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=WPC 2024= Field of Sand

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1/21/2024 11:14:38   
  Chewy905

Chromatic ArchKnight of RP


 The world between worlds is motionless and silent. It waits in stillness for those who seek it, and for those who find themselves there by mere chance. Here it stays, ‘pon the edge of new lives, or final deaths. It remains untouched by the passage of time, the motion of life, or the noise of thoughts. The only hands that mold it are those of the Powers themselves.

One hand has built the city high and mighty, and the other once more demands that the towers would fall.



The Chequered City has never been so subdued. The skyline is ruled by bright marble towers alone, the lowest obsidian hovel barely able to peek above the walls. Where once the roads twisted and turned there are now naught but straight sidewalks and streets, meeting at neat intersections. A brave soul may be able to take a staircase to the top of a tall tower and, from a balcony, paint a clear picture of the City streets. And upon those streets stand the faceless denizens, moving about in a pantomime of a perfect, Orderly life.

Chaos rages beyond the walls. The black garden has done its best to remain wild, to remain free. Vines and thorns twist and contort in an ever-changing labyrinth, yet are never able to close off the entrance nor the exit. Dark tunnels dip deep within the earth, inviting a dive to an unknown destination. Yet each of these, too, has a way out. And any who enter these caves shall still find themselves upon the pristine checkered tiles of the City streets, no matter how lost they believe themselves to be.

Without the walls, Chaos. Within, Order. And still both City and Garden provide for the coming war. Automatons serve drink, vines bear fruit, and anywhere one may find rest. The rest one must have before War.

None can stay upon these perfect streets or this wild maze. This is not a haven nor a limbo; it is merely a passage. A place to stop, to prepare, and to journey through the gates, the doors, or whatever means is necessary to pass on to the next step.

For Pawns belong in one place alone.

The Battlefield.


Amidst everything, a gunshot rings out like lightning. A fierce bullet pierces the black, shattering the edges of infinity and heralding the birth of light and color. That color floods into the void, surrounding the Pawns in a vibrant array, granting glimpses of countless lives; each unique, each their own.

A second gunshot echoes, and the color flees. Gray replaces it, seeping in from the edges. It creeps forth, encompassing all like an ocean until there is nothing else. Simply the lack of beauty, of life.

And then, a new world, an entire realm birthed from the last shout of a man that journeyed to change his own soul.

The gray ocean bursts, encompassing the Pawns in not water, but sand. An endless desert of colorless grains stretches from horizon to horizon. The world shudders, and from above a massive crystal descends to the earth. It plants itself neatly in the sand, a pyramid of glass steps that climb to a peak from which the endless sands pour forth. The sand-covered stairs seem to glitter in this sunless place, inviting the Pawns to climb, to brave the gentle current and claim control of their fates.

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 desert shakes, the behind the Pawns flowing down and away into deadly pits as the earth calls out with a mighty voice.

“Welcome to the Field of Sand. No Good can guide you further, no Evil can sweep you away. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in emptiness.”

Post #: 1
1/24/2024 23:06:37   
Necro-Knight
Member

It was a dark night, or as dark as the flickering neon holo-signs would let it be. Rain fell in sheets and was illuminated by the onslaught of advertisements, news broadcasts and the latest music video to hit top ratings. All this visual input did was make the shadows darker, hungrier. Like living predators poking out of their dens to eye possible prey, each dark alley shadows laid beneath the neon signs with talon-like shapes. To some, this would be discomforting, perhaps even terrifying. To Ryuk D’vorak, they were comforting. A welcome ally during operations.

Harsh solar radiation through a patchwork atmosphere made daytime missions difficult, even with his high-tech exo-armor adding an additional layer of protection. Combined with sensitive eyes he’d not been able to protect fully due to a lack of funds for tech upgrades, Ryuk was relegated to night time ops, which suited him just fine. Disivia City was a different beast at night. Assailants and victims alike prowled colorful streets and sought the latest rush, clubs became powder kegs waiting to ignite and every type of contraband was smuggled in the most creative of ways.

One of these types of smuggled goods was Ryuk’s speciality; bio-technical contraband. Organs, implants and other modified biological parts that could be hidden away within the human body. While not being the most profitable form of crime in Disivia, Ryuk had noticed that it was rapidly becoming one of the most active as conditions within the city worsened. Medicine was becoming more expensive with every week and people, more desperate to escape their ailments. Desperation that often led them to becoming part of the following day’s news broadcast as a statistic for some politician to forge a platform from.

Ryuk flicked pearlescent eyes up to the radiation monitor in the top-left of his mask’s crimson visor, raindrops running down the exterior surface in clean lines. Still sitting at comfortable levels. He never doubted his VAMPRE suit’s ability to monitor and manage the natural radiation being produced from his bones, but suddenly realizing he was at risk of poisoning mid-operation was something he’d rather avoid. With a quick flick of his eyes, Ryuk peered down at the streets below as the twin-antennas on his helmet pulsed an inquisitive echo out and over the existing communication frequencies.

“Nothing,” he said, voice low and relaxed. Getting nervous this early into a shift was a good way to irradiate himself with no activity to show for it.

“Just because you’re not getting anything doesn’t mean something isn’t there, just means they’re not running on the frequencies we know. At the speed crime is evolving in Disivia, yesterday’s codes are already ancient,” a voice replied over Ryuk’s own private communication network. His Operator, a woman now in her mid-thirties going by the name of Serena, monitored and tracked the young agent’s operations every night and had done so for nearly the past five years. Where Ryuk was hands-on with retrieving the designated contraband and apprehending ( or eliminating ) the criminals responsible for its trafficking, Serena was his eye in the sky. He’d yet to witness a security system she couldn’t crack or a virus she couldn’t counter, but it was like she said. Crime was evolving, not just becoming more frequent. The Operators were having to evolve faster and were sacrificing much to make it happen, Ryuk knew. As she appeared in the top-right corner of his visor’s display, he noted how the four screens Serena was working with only highlighted the dark circles under her eyes.

“Is that why you’re working yourself into an early grave?” He said, eyes moving back to the streets below his perch on a dark skyscraper. Office building, illegal to advertise on its primarily glass walls, so it was a usual observation point for law enforcement.

“Ey, these bio-harvesters aren’t sleeping either and they’re getting better at hiding their tracks, creating false organs for us to chase. We waste even one night of operation hunting down a dupe carrier? The real thing is half-way to the moons by then. We gotta stay one step-ahead somehow, so I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“We get anything on the latest perps? Last transfer surgery I busted had some form of private military on duty.”

“Job getting too dangerous for ya, kiddo?”

Ryuk snorted, corner of his mouth raising. Sass was as abundant in Serena’s veins as blood and was likely even more vital to her health.

“No, just worried this will escalate. We work in the shadows, like a laser-scalpel excising a tumor, but typical law enforcement doesn’t have our resources or special talents. If the gangs start bringing in actual military units for protection…”

The pouring rain and near constant drone of advertisements was the only sound between them for a long moment, before Ryuk finished his Operator’s thought, a frown furrowing his brows.

“...then Disivia City is going to turn into a warzone. Do we have anything in the handbook for urban warfare?”

“We’re special ops, Ryuk, not assault ops. If things blow up, we’re-!”

Serena suddenly disappeared from Ryuk’s heads-up display, though her voice still barked over his communications network, the sound of her old-fashioned mechanical keyboard fighting the rain for dominance in his ears.

“We’ve got a signal, three blocks down from you. Citizen’s vitals are all wrong and they’ve got muscle with them. Looks like the same private military you dealt with previously, so stay sharp.”

“Always am.”

--------------------------------------------------------

Serena’s description left a lot to be desired, Ryuk thought. The target didn’t so much have muscle as they did a full military convoy. Wild vital signs flared from within a high-class pedestrian vehicle, while a pair of armored trucks formed a barrier from the front and rear. Oddly, Ryuk was unable to detect the vitals of the operators of said military vehicle.

“Nothing at all?” Serena asked, taking a brief moment to appear on his HUD, emerald eyes locked in a genuine look of confusion.

“None. The trucks could be remotely controlled, that isn’t impossible, but that’s some heavy hardware to leave in control of a navigation AI.”

“Even then, I’d be able to identify the software. Most of the military corps use similar code… if you’re getting neither vital signs or software signals, this is something new. Move in, we need more info, yesterday.”

“Copy,” he said, already moving from his observation point on the street corner. The convoy was currently stopped at an intersection and as the bright crimson street-lights holding them in place cast the sheets of rain in a scarlet color, the agent made his move. Hidden by the scarlet of the light above, the powerful radiation bolt that arced from the nearby corner was all but invisible until the point of impact.

Lifting his extended arm a few inches as the energy poured from his palm, Ryuk directed the almost-wild energy downward into the street, sending asphalt flying in chunks. Moments later, the intersection exploded into light as the condensed particles found a powerline buried beneath the street, sending an eruption of sparks and blue electricity leaping through the air.

The convoy skidded to a stop, as expected, and Ryuk was already moving towards the civilian vehicle, his presence hidden in the new shadows created by the hungry energy biting and flailing at anything within reach. Within a few paces of the car, he broke into a heavy run and lifted his right arm, swinging his upper torso, suit hydraulics whirring with the motion as he buried his fist into the driver-side window, gripped the frame and ripped his arm outward.

Removed from the car with the swift motion, the door went flying onto the nearby sidewalk as Ryuk turned back to the interior. He froze, head tilting involuntarily at what he saw. Or rather, what he didn’t. No occupants looked back at him or tried to retaliate from his assault, only empty leather seats and the steady ding of the car alerting him that a door was open.

“Serena, am I missing someth-”

“Ryuk, on your six!”

The warning merely gave him time to brace as a massive hand gripped the helmet of his suit and drove him face-first into the doorframe, leaving a massive dent from the impact. The shock dazed him more than any actual pain and as his vision cleared, he found himself on the rain-soaked street, staring up at something that made him believe the strike to the head had done permanent damage. Massive beings, albeit not organic ones, stood around him dressed in military gear. The black of the leather and pouches contrasted heavily with their marble-like white bodies and featureless faces.

“Serena, what am I looking at? Some… new kind of drone?”

Even when out-of-sorts, his Operator’s voice was a comfort, a constant that he could always rely on being present. Now, he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain settling into the pit of his stomach as static was his only answer. Unknown assailants, lost communications with his Operator and a missing piece of contraband. This Op was rapidly heating up and Ryuk did not want to be here if it ended up boiling over.

Instead of trying to get to his feet, he simply twisted in place and swung an armored leg out towards the ankle of one of the faceless beings surrounding him. While not mech-grade, his VAMPRE armor did enhance the agent’s strength beyond that of a normal soldier, enough to rip car door’s free or bend metal when needed. Upon impact, his target barely even registered the blow.

Instead, it reached down and clasped its massive hand around his helmet again, lifting him up to eye level… or what eye level would be on this entity. Not missing the opportunity, Ryuk struck again, swinging a blow at the anomaly’s face. Its head was snapped to the side with the force of the attack, but no mark was left upon its pristine surface and it slowly turned itself back to him.

“Okay… that one usually works. I think I’m going to need a Plan D by now…”

Before he could try to wriggle free from the thing’s iron grip, its face suddenly split down the middle, as if on hinges, and a blinding light erupted from within. Sensors in his helmet screamed in unison with their owner who fought to tear his helmet from the increasing brilliance. Squeezed shut, it wasn’t enough to shield his eyes from the light that seemed to not just shine towards him, but consume him, engulfing him until his senses were no longer able to distinguish anything beyond its radiance.

--------------------------------------------------------

He was lost like this for what felt like an eternity, screaming and trapped in a world of endless light. Somewhere amid the blinding assault, he’d expected a sudden and swift impact and the sweet embrace of darkness. Instead, he felt himself land face-first on a surface that gave way to his weight as the light faded. Taking a moment to catch his breath as his HUD recovered from the overload, Ryuk slowly sat up and tilted his head again. Sand. He was wrist deep in a gray sand that seemed to twinkle back up at him despite the low light.

Noticing more sand was being added to the dunes around him, the bewildered agent slowly peered up at the layered pyramid blotting out the obvious light from behind it, more of the granular material casually running down its step-like design. A sudden fear set in at the prospect of him having been actually unconscious for an extended period of time to be taken to this… exotic location and his eyes flicked up to his now-restored vitals display. All normal, as if he’d just started an Op for the night, though every known communication frequency was currently beyond serviceable range.

“Great… I’m flying blind and alone.”

Standing, Ryuk shook the grains from his fingers and did his best to adjust his footing as he swiveled his head around. More sand, as far as his still-sensitive eyes could see. Ryuk began to wonder if he’d been dropped in a nearby desert when a booming voice that seemed to come from the land itself boomed forth and chasms soon opened up around the nearest perimeter of the pyramid, like gaping maws.

“Welcome to the Field of Sand. No Good can guide you further, no Evil can sweep you away. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in emptiness.”

He was about to have an internal debate on what Good and Evil meant in this place when he was caught up on another word of the announcement. Yourselves. Plural. There were others here and if this was a test of worth, they would likely be adversaries. He would need to be completely alone against an unknown number of opponents and likely need to come out victorious to leave this place. That was his hope, anyway, as he turned and made his way towards the Pyramid’s edge, hydraulics assisting him in moving up each step. Higher ground would only assist him, especially if others were yet to arrive.

This sudden objective of obtaining higher ground left the bio-contraband agent unaware of the neat, tidy symbol already fading from above where he’d been standing, eyes focused upwards towards the pyramid's peak.
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 2
1/25/2024 9:41:13   
Geddesmck
Member
 

 “Ms Adore, explain to me, if you can, why you decided to punch Ms Belfont and Master Klein.”

Professor Yarrow was an older human man with his neatly trimmed white beard contrasting against his richly textured dark skin. Celerity looked up from the floor into his eyes which seemed to sparkle with intelligence and curiosity, an activity and vibrancy that she found absent when looking at her own reflection. It was not his eyes themselves she focussed on. Instead it was the deep lines that sat at their corners born from smiles, mirth and a generous spirt.

“Yes Professor,” her voice was calm and full of conviction, “I wanted to hurt them, for they had hurt me.”

Yarrow’s eyes narrowed and his brow tightened, a look she recognised from when he was puzzling over some complicated concept. He studied her for a moment. “You have no injuries. And everyone who witnessed the altercation says you were the only one to use any violence.”

“Correct Professor. But they, along with many of the other students, have hurt me nonetheless. They say cruel things. They exclude me. They laugh at my shortcomings.”

“Such things are not the same,” Yarrow turned from the young half-orc girl and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. He gestured with the paper his voice rising with exasperation, “young Belfont has lost a tooth Celerity! You cannot resort to violence! You must restrain yourself, you do not know your own strength.”

Celerity said nothing for a moment. Professor Yarrow was a not a short man and he had not yet reached an age where the years had begun to bow him, but at ten years of age Celerity was mere inches shorter than him. “I do Professor. I am much stronger than any of the other children. Should I not use that to my advantage? I have little else.”

Yarrow sighed and placed the paper down on the desk. He turned away from the girl and walked towards the large window from which late afternoon sun spilled into the room. He pulled a small pocket watch from his trousers and began to fiddle absent-mindedly with it. “You are struggling Cel,” the use of the nickname was accompanied with a softening of his voice, but sadness flavoured the tone. “I admitted you to this school as a favour to your father, but you have showed little talent and you do not fit in amongst the other children.” Yarrow turned. He offered her a smile of sympathy. “There would be no shame in quitting. I can recommend many other schools that may be more suitable and allow you to take advantage of the talents you have.”

“Thank you, Professor. But I shall do no such thing.”



Celerity turned the old pocket watch in her bandaged hand without thought. Intricate designs etched into the silver had been polished down to a blurred impression from decades of handling. The mechanism had not worked in many years, not since she had found it on the floor of Professor Yarrow’s office with its shattered face amongst the chaos of that scene. It served now only as a memento and as a remedy for her compulsion to keep her hands busy. A compulsion made worse in large crowds, noisy spaces or unfamiliar situations.

The ball was crowded, noisy and it had been many years since Celerity had attended one. She would have been happy to have made an appearance and then quietly slipped away, but unfortunately she was the talk of the Empire and anyone who was anyone had come specifically to see her. She smiled and nodded and exchanged pleasantries with nobles and merchants and diplomats and priests and more. The comments began to wash over her in a tide of platitudes and solicitations.

“I for one always suspected Archmage Alana wasn’t quite on the up-on-up.”

“What a beautiful dress darling! You must spread the secret of the designer you use. They have such a… bold style.”

“Who’d have thought the Archmage was such a villain, eh? Really did take us all by surprise.”

“I told Reggie when the put the wanted posters up, I said ‘Reggie, that girl is being set up!’ Didn’t I Reggie? Yes exactly.”

“You’re speaking to Algernon de la Rougemont yes? To tell the exclusive story. How marvellous, but of course the Torbin Chronicle is always ready to make an offer if you’re interested.”

“I represent a brand I’m sure you’ve heard of Miss Adore, would you perhaps consider a deal to endorse our product? I’m sure it will be beneficial to us all.”

“A long way from brawls outside the classroom isn’t Cel?”

Celerity blinked, the use of her old nickname jolting her back into full awareness. She frowned as her mind filed through her memories and tried to place the face before her. The woman who had spoken smiled widely and gently stuck out her tongue to touch one of her teeth. Celerity burst into a wide grin.

“My goodness! Sharina Belfont!” she caught herself, “I suppose Countess Belfont now?” The short handsome woman waved away the title and Celerity’s smile twisted into a smirk, “And from what I recall it wasn’t much of a brawl, you and Lukas put up very little fight.”

The countess laughed brightly and gestured for Celerity to take her gloved hand. “Awfully sorry, but I must beg your leave to steal my old friend for just a few short minutes,” Sharina announced to the small crowd that waited impatiently for their turn for an audience with the woman of the hour. In a lower voice she spoke to Celerity, “Let’s get some air yes?”

The two women walked hand in hand through the crowded room. Celerity Adore had long since come to terms with not fitting the imperial standards of feminine beauty. She was too tall, too broad, too blunt and inelegant. Yet in the presence of her childhood bully-turned-friend, she unconsciously compared herself unfavourably. Sharina was short and slender. She moved with grace, like water flowing through the crowds. Each of her hairs was in the perfect place, her dress was the latest fashion and complimented her perfectly. Celerity focused on their touching hands. Sharina’s slender digits protected by fine silk gloves contrasting Celerity’s large fist wrapped in heavy bandages to hide the cuts and bruises that marked them after her recent battle with the Archmage.

They passed through a doorway into a sheltered garden. All at once the noise diminished from a constant cacophony to a muted murmur and cool night air revitalised Celerity. She placed the pocket watch she had been toying with for most of the night back into the small bag she wore. Sharina watched the motion. “Is that his?” Celerity nodded. “You play with it the same way he did,” Celerity could hear the smile in Sharina’s voice. “Its terrible what happened,” the countess had turned away as she spoke, looking into the night sky and the crack in her voice spoke more truth to Celerity than the words. She squeezed her hand she still felt.

“It was. It is why I did what I did.”

Sharina turned back and her eyes glistened with held back tears. That vibrancy and intelligence Celerity remembered from Yarrow’s gaze, which had been absent the last time she saw him, was there in Sharina’s eyes. She let go of Celerity’s hand and carefully wiped burgeoning tears away, somehow not smudging her makeup. With a forced grin she turned and began to walk into the garden, twisting slightly to speak to her old friend as she did. “I’m sure you find talking about that such a bore already. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks but its all anyone is talking about!” Celerity laughed in confirmation. “Alright, then let’s talk about something else,” Sharina hummed as she searched for a subject. “How about… What’s next for Celerity Adore, fashion icon, imperial scholar and slayer of the mad mage Alana?” Her face was bright with mirth at the gently teasing.

Celerity followed behind closely. Enchanted lanterns lent a soft glow to the gardens and the unnatural light and harsh shadows twisted the flowers into unrecognisable forms. There was a different kind of beauty to the blooms in this setting, a unique, deeper quality that required active participation to appreciate. She loved seeing things from a different perspective like this.

“I shall burn this Empire down.”



“Welcome to the Field of Sand. No Good can guide you further, no Evil can sweep you away. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in emptiness.”

Pawns?, Celerity raised an eyebrow at the choice of words. Prove myself? And how am I to do that? Battle? Hardly a test of worthiness. A hasty assumption, there was little proof that she was expected to fight. The thought stuck in Celerity’s mind like a stubborn pebble in a shoe. A working theory at least.

Before the great crystal had descended and formed into the might structure before her, Celerity had become aware that she was not alone. Five beings, herself included, and judging by the symbols above each of their forms, they were sorted into two categories? Teams? Unequal if so, and Celerity found herself uncomfortable to be on the team with the numbers advantage. Too early to come to a conclusion, but she held the thought.

Assuming that her first instinct was correct, that meant the short, white-clad man and black-armoured creature appeared to be her allies, while her foes consisted of a long-haired girl clothed in robes and smoke, and a fox-like creature in baggy blue clothing. She would have to reposition to get a better view of any of them now.

A battle, her mind returned to the thought, it would make sense. I created these robes, staff and parasol in preparation for attacks from Alana and her minions. To have them now sends me a signal.

The gold thread embroidered on her emerald green dress glinted in the light and her dark, curled hair spilled artfully across her bare shoulders and upper back. A parasol hung cradled in her elbow and a staff of dark wood was held in her hand. It may not have been the traditional battle-garb many were used to, but Celerity considered herself well-armed and armoured. If not for battle, why were these accoutrements of violence the ones she found herself with in this unfamiliar place?

The environs themselves demanded attention. The young half-orc mage had travelled to many odd places in her short life, but this square of every flowing sand surrounded by nothingness summoned no ready comparison to her previous experience. A demi-plane perhaps? Related to the strange city she had found herself in previously? It was a sound conjecture. She glanced behind her to the edge and watched the flow of sand as if fell into an abyss. A thrill of discomfort bit at the edges of Celerity’s composure as she took several steps forward.

The pyramid of crystal was impossible to ignore as it dominated the space. Sand flowed over its form constantly, but its clouded glass exterior could be seen beneath, especially when it caught the light and spat it back out distorted. There had to be some significance to the structure. In her limited experience they served as tombs, monuments or temples. So which was this? Or was it perhaps something else?

She squinted slightly. The bright light cast by the odd grey sun was relentless and the way it made the sands glitter and refracted through the crystalline structure of the pyramid was becoming increasingly distracting. With a practised, fluid motion Celerity opened her parasol and held it such to block as much light as possible. She held her staff in the other hand. Pale scars on the knuckles of both hands stood stark against her grey-green skin as she tightened her grip.

Discovery through action. Let her blood pump and her brain race. She would begin to move. She would explore. She would understand.

First, examine the pyramid closer, while keeping an eye on potential threats.

The components of a spell assembled in her mind and came together with a satisfying release of energy. Semi-transparent, a plane of force 3 feet long by 3 feet wide sprang into reality 2 feet to her left and 3 feet from the floor. With a minor expenditure of focus, she moved it with her as she walked towards and, frustratingly inelegantly, scaled the first step of the crystal pyramid before her.
AQ DF  Post #: 3
1/25/2024 22:01:48   
Dragonknight315
Member

<Home...>

A loud crack echoed as lightning split the dark skies. It pierced through the clouds and illuminated the starless night. It’s brilliance burned for but a moment as rain swallowed the light, and all was darkness again.

As though the wind howled and the freezing rain soaked her robes, she pressed on, her bare feet trudging through the muddied road one step at a time. A most inauspicious day; it was if the land itself cried out in sorrow. No mortal would dare travel in such a state. Yet the maiden felt nothing but resolve.

<Home...>

It had been over a decade since Ayane last walked the path, but her soul remembered and her body understood. It was her one wish: she had to make it home.

Hours. For hours she followed the path until at last the mud turned to stone to wood, to paper and glass. She could barely make out flickers of stone lanterns in the distance. As the maiden stood at the edge of her village, a black tear trickled down her pale cheek. In mere moments, it would finally be over. Ayane could finally rest. As the girl stepped through the threshold, she could feel a weight fall off her shoulders. Her body grew light as her soul connected to the town. For the first time in what she could recall, she felt alive. Like an actual person and not a tool. Here, she was no savior. She was just a girl.

Guided by lantern light, Ayane’s steps turned to bounds. She ran and ran passing by the dimly lit houses until at last she froze. Her heart, once frozen over, now pulsed like a drum and spurred her forward.

<I’m so glad to be alive.>

The maiden let out a gasp as she came upon her family’s home– or at least, what remained of it. As the adrenaline faded, so did the color of her childhood. She could see the bright frames and paper were now infested with rot and mold.

Brushing aside some cobwebs, she stepped through the broken entrance. It was unmistakable. This is what she was searching for, what tugged on her soul. But she couldn’t believe it. Where was Mother? Father? What of her younger brothers? Where were they?

... Was this it?

The maiden fell to the floor, her body unable to bear the weight. The moment stretched into an eternity as she remained there alone, sobbing as her heart overflowed with grief. The tears simply refused to stop.

Eventually, a voice broke through the girl’s despair.

“... Ayane? Kami above, Ayane, is that you?!”

As the maiden opened her eyes, a light shined through a hole in the ceiling. It was morning, she realized, and the storm had passed.

... Could it be?

A glimmer of hope. Ayane pulled herself off of the floor and turned her head towards the voice. But it was not her father, nor her brothers, nor his... but someone else. One of the villagers. The maiden remained silent as she felt her heart shuttered.

<A child.>

The girl recognized the man. Tanned skin, graying hair– a simple farmer. He had visited the shrine a few years ago. His burden was an ordinary one.

<You wanted a child.>

“... Hey, come here!” The man beckoned behind him, and several others stepped into the disheveled house. One of them was a woman clutching a miracle in her hands.

The man reached down to offer a hand. His face turned pale as he took in the black stains on her skin.

“What happened to you?”

Ayane stared at the man’s flesh. She tried to speak, but her voice was dead, her throat still sore from the night before. The man continued:

“It’s okay, Ayane. You’re safe now...”

Slowly, the girl lifted her arm. As it caught the light, she could see the bloodstained piece of rope hanging around her wrist. Just as she was about to take the man’s hand, she could hear his voice.

“– We’ll take you back to the shrine.”

<No!>

The maiden pulled her arm back and shuffled away. The very thought was poison to her soul. She couldn’t allow it.

“Ayane?! What’s wrong?!”

The maiden felt the truth crack her skull. This was not her home. Not any more. The village, her family, even the very spirits– everyone had abandoned her.

<... All you care about is yourselves! Your lives, your happiness! You push everything onto me... But what about my life? What about my burdens?!>

As the crowd pushed in, a voice bellowed from Ayane’s throat, but it was not her words. It was his.

“STAY AWAY.”

Suddenly, the house began to shake. From every corner, the shadows seemed to move, the darkness encroaching upon the light. One of the villagers screamed.

“By the Kami!”

The voice... how sweet it sounded.

At that moment, Ayane felt it as something washed over her. Suddenly, she knew what had to be done. One of the villagers turned to run, but as they did, a claw leapt out from the shadows. It tore into their ankle, their red blood staining the floor below.

“They can’t save you... just as they couldn’t save me.”

As the body was dragged into the shadows, Ayane felt better. Felt stronger. Felt right. The world seemed to fall away as she tore apart every last one of them.

<Scream.>

As the wraith raked her talons against the young man’s flesh, she took it all in. His screams, his fears, his everything. Ephemera savored every last morsel. So full of youth, the young adult, yet that made it all the richer.

Ephemera looked to the shattered lantern at his side. How he clung so desperately to the light. And yet, it was worthless, a false hope that only made his suffering worse.

Her mind wandered back to the first night, to her first burden. The rain came to wash away the blood and tears, but even after two centuries of existence, nothing could stay the wraith’s hand. The fire burned in her chest, suffusing her entire being.

As the wraith pulled herself from the now eviscerated corpse, she could feel the innocent voice trembling within.

<This is not what I wanted!> she could hear her old remnant crying. Deep within, a chorus of thousands echoed in return.

<But this is what you deserve.>

She deserved their blood. She needed it. Their blood, their children’s blood, their children’s children’s– Ephemera would not stop until at last every last mercy Ayane had ever given was returned to her.

<Cleanse the burdens.> The voices grew louder and louder. She could feel the ink shifting in her corpse flesh in celebration. Another mercy reclaimed; another step towards the end.

<A city...>

The wraith stirred in her gossamer chrysalis. Though her ghost flesh was untiring, it was unstable, just the rest of her existence. It was here in her haunt, her old village, that she could weave herself anew. Deep inside, she could feel it. The fear, the hatred, the torrent of despair digesting her form until their essence was her essence. Like a dream, she could see their thoughts play out before her eyes.

On this particular night, one thought, one dream pervaded her sleep. A young man stood before her. Tattered clothes, broken lantern in hand. Her latest kill. Such a thing was not unusual for her. As Ephemera drank of the remnant, the dream became clearer.

A city. A garden. Visions of a far away place had plagued the soul ever since he was a child. A genuine nightmare. Every night, he wandered the black and white plane. The wraith felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into the vision until–

–the web snapped.

As Ephemera fell from her chrysalis, she felt her corpse flesh shutter as the dormant memories shifted across her skin. Patterns of pale and black soldiers marched across her shoulder as Ephemera took in her surroundings.

<The city–> the wraith realized. <From the dream...>

Indeed, it was unmistakable. As Ephemera looked around, her haunt was gone, replaced with the sight of towering marble of alternating hues. In all of her collected experience, she had seen nothing like it.

But one voice had.

<They are waiting for you. For us.>

Suddenly, the wraith could feel the compulsion overtake her body. As she turned around, an exit– or rather, an entrance, awaited her. A large metal gate opened to the surrounding wilderness, beckoning her forward.

<... So be it.>

A map.

As the wraith looked down at corpse flesh, could not help but be surprised. A feeling she hadn’t known in ages. Whatever domain she had found herself in, it was not unlike her haunt. With every turn in the dark maze, reality seemed to shift. But as it did, so did the ink on her skin, twisted and turning.

Something was guiding her. But what? And what exactly did it want?

<It wants you.>

Eventually, the vines and thorns gave way to stone as she found herself at the entrance of a massive tunnel. Its walls were smooth, uniform, as if spawned from the earth itself.

<Deeper.>

The wraith stepped into the tunnel, her body seeming to move on its own. As she descended down, the dim light behind her grew dimmer and dimmer with each step until it faded entirely.

She walked in silence for some time. To Ephemera, it was almost comforting. Even the voices held their peace. But then, a sound echoed throughout the tunnel.

Thunder.

And light.

The wraith pulled a claw to her eyes as a blinding flash ripped through the dark fog. A wave of searing wind and glass swept against her skin, so hot even her corpse flesh could sense it.

As the bright sun bore down upon the wraith, the ink boiled in her veins and writhed on her skin. To be so exposed was anathema to her existence. Still, the wraith held her ground, her shadows defiantly clinging to her form.

Ephemera could feel the sand slipping between her bare feet. It was as if she was by the shore. But as Ephemera gathered herself and looked to her surroundings, there was not an ouch of water in sight. A dry, empty wasteland.

<... A new field ripe for harvest.>

Much to the wraith’s delight, it was not in fact completely empty. Though the hot, reflective sands obscured her spectral sight, her gaze was drawn towards the bodies in the distance.

<Our prey.> the voices echoed.

The wraith licked her lips as the shadows twisted around her form, but before she could act on her desires, the domain shifted again. Ephemera watched in awe as a massive structure of crystal fell from the heavens and sank into the sand. A monument to itself, an altar for worship. And they, Ephemera understood, were the sacrifices.

“Welcome to the Field of Sand. No Good can guide you further, no Evil can sweep you away. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in emptiness.”

As the wraith took her first step upon the pyramid, Ephemera watched as a drop of ink fell from her lips onto the surface, its pristine surface now stained black.

<Beautiful.>

She took a deep breath as she looked across to the shadow in the distance. To her prey.

<Come. Lay your burdens upon me.>
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 4
1/25/2024 22:37:56   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 Vale walks the border.

She turns her hooded face back and forth as she watches the beauty of Order and Chaos. To her left runs a town: its buildings boxy, its lands carefully tilled, its border protected by a slotted wooden fence. To her right stretches vast plains: long-lived trees reaching freely upwards and gnarled bushes spreading their tendrils wide. A pair of wolf cubs tumble through a clearing; their mother, not far away, hunts a rabbit as it disappears into the bushes. Vale smiles beneath the simple wooden mask that covers her face. She has always felt called by the freedom of the wilds; but that is not why she is here.

Her family has always called it Kon, though she has learned its formal translation to be Chaos. Vale, especially, feels the ebb and flow of the two Powers. Sou, with its need for rules and regiment; Kon, with its desire for freedom and turmoil. They oppose each other always; so, Vale walks along the border.

For she knows Kon is losing.

Vale’s dark, furred ears flick forwards atop her head towards the sound of voices. Her fox-like pupils narrow under her mask as she identifies the source: two people walking along the inside of the fence, facing Vale’s general direction. A human and an elf. Her eyes fall upon the weapons sheathed in their belts. Knights of some sort: a patrol. She is conscious of her own blade at her side, and the shadow cast by her hooded cloak. They were right to find her suspicious. But she hasn’t broken any of their rules-- the fence is their border, and her footsteps fall outside it. She does not stop, and they quicken their pace towards her. The human calls out, his voice harsh and commanding. “Hey, what are you doing over there?”

Vale does not respond. There is no need to; they will not hurt her before they know her business. She smirks slightly, her lips hidden by her mask; she will know their business well before they know hers. For as the patrol comes into focus, so do their Lives. Songs, Vale likes to call them. The constant thrum of their minds; the tumbling chaos that marked them as conscious and alive.

The human’s worry creeps into Vale’s stomach, a roiling tumor that bites and tears as she grips her skin and holds back a whimper. Her ears flick towards the echoes of a harsh cough. A sickness-- in himself or another, Vale cannot tell. Poor child. Whoever it is, it sounds as if they have not much longer.

Vale turns her focus towards the elf, a taller build with pale gray hair. They have a lover in mind: affection wrenches at Vale’s heart, and she runs her tongue across her lips to taste the echo of a kiss. It is a familiar sensation-- many oft had a partner at the front of their mind-- but its intensity has never ceased to stun the vulpe. How could she not enjoy a good love story?

“Hey! Don’t make me ask again. You’ve got no business here,” the sick-struck one barks. Vale feels no ill will towards his harshness-- he can’t help it. But it is inconvenient. Vale reaches her focus towards him once more, and worry again twists her stomach. He feels so intensely… It brings a slight smile to Vale’s face. This is always exhilarating. Insecurities sprout into her mind as worry for a loved one that is not her own consumes her. Bright orange blooms in her eyes as she plucks a thought, a weed, from her mind and plants it delicately into the sick-struck.

"They’re going to die.”

The human’s chest rises carefully, a measured breath pushed out to fight down his concern. Vale bites her lip as she smirks. She had guessed right; the sickened person wasn’t the human himself. “I’m merely a traveling performer,” she speaks aloud, to satisfy the pair’s sense of duty. “I will not bother you; I will continue forwards past your city and will not cross.” Her lips have barely closed before she whispers towards the human once more.

"They’re going to die, and you won’t be there.”

The human opens his mouth, as if to protest her flimsy answer, then abruptly shuts it again. His eyes are no longer on her, glazed over as if he’s enthralled by a vision. Vale feels the knot in her-- his-- stomach wrench uncontrollably. The elf looks at him, concerned. Vale does not stop.

"You need to leave.”

“I-- alright, fine,” the human stammers, rubbing a hand tensely against his hip, and Vale feels her throat contract as he forces down bile. “Cmon, Jemir. She’s not a threat. We need to leave.”

The human turns abruptly back towards the city, ignoring the confused protest from his partner. Jemir glances at Vale, tilting their head slightly downward as if to see underneath her hood. She mirrors them and tilts hers down in turn, as if to nod in thanks. They grunt. “Just stay on your side of the fence.”

Sure thing, lover boy.

Vale watches them leave, a contented smile across her face. New Songs are always so beautiful; she wishes she could dance to them forever. Each person holds something ever so slightly different from the last, each a breath of fresh air to Vale’s ever-beating heart. Vale lets out a sigh. A pity she must leave them so soon, their songs forever lost to her as their fates, briefly entwined, parted forever more. Vale knew so many, she bemuses as she walks. She glimpsed their strongest emotions, yet never knowing what became of them.

Soon, the town’s walls start to lose their color, and the grass beneath her feet grows solid and cold. Wooden fences link with stone and Vale’s steps become tentative as the clear border she walks is bleached with white. She stops-- smelling, tasting, searching-- and finds nothing. Order consumes this city. A shiver runs down Vale’s spine, and she pulls her cloak’s hood further down her forehead. Loneliness aches in her chest as she realizes she is the only beating, chaotic heart in a city devoid of sound-- devoid of life. Vale reaches her hand down to a crack in the sidewalk, where a mass of dark, tangled vines strangle for purchase on the unforgiving rock. She presses a finger to one of its thorns, and nods as a sharp prick shoots up her finger. Chaos fights on against Order’s oppressive grip… so Vale continues on. She knows she is where she must be. The stone floor runs cold against her bare feet as Vale continues to trace the border as best she can, flitting through bleach-white walls to find the last whispers of chequered pathways.

Blood paints Kon’s thorns, and Vale’s breath catches as she brushes her foot against the last visible whisper of Chaos.

A piercing boom shoots through her senses.

At once, her world is filled with color, with whispers, with Song, with Life. She reaches out her consciousness alongside her hands, but each moves too slowly against the endless current, and the Lives around her flit past before she can catch them. A bright pink star echoes with laughter as it shoots by; a dull scarlet orb fills her nose with sulfur. Vale bathes in the fullness of smells and sounds and tastes and she has never felt more alive.

A second crash, and the Lives flee from her company. Vale’s world turns as silent as Order’s city, and she crumples. A stuttering breath seeps into her lungs and her mind reels, processing the Lives she has tasted and the emptiness they have left behind.

Sand floods around her, and she glances up from under her hood, desperate for something to latch onto. The Powers oblige her hunger: there are now four. Four other beings stand before her, spread out on this new desert expanse. Four Lives to learn; four Songs to sate her thirst.

A glimpse is all she is granted before a pyramid of glass obscures her vision. Sand flows from its steps, and Vale watches it with eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. It calls to her, somehow, though not the call of a Life-Song. As its base slams into the sand beneath it, Vale hears the earth tremble.

“Welcome to the Field of Sand. No Good can guide you further, no Evil can sweep you away. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in emptiness.”

So this is their battle. The ebb and flow of Sou and Kon, Order and Chaos. It began here. And it will begin again, with Vale in battle against four others. Vale reaches to her side for the blade forged for her hands alone. Her short, soft tail flicks back and forth beneath her cloak as her eyes glow with hungry anticipation.

Let’s see what makes your souls sing.

Post #: 5
1/25/2024 23:02:48   
markthematey
Member

SLAM

The large wooden doors of the King Valentine’s Basilica rumble. The church hall went silent as heads turned to see the commotion. At the center podium, a clergyman frowned as he stopped his speech. He wears simple robes with the expectation of a blade attached to his hip.

SLAM

A second hit echoed over the churchgoers, confusion struck the mass as the bishop motioned for the guards to approach. The stalked towards the door cautiously, unsure of what could be on the other side.

SLAM

The twin doors fling open, and behind it, a figure stands in salute. In its right hand held a long rapier held at its chest pointed towards the distant ceiling.

Both guards began to draw their swords and make simple demands, all of which fell on deaf ears. Now more clearly seen, the figure was most certainly male, if not a little plain-looking. His clothing is all etched with silver with lines and markings that move down his blade arm. This was Ladd, a duelist of little fame who appeared to lack all sense of manners.

“HO HOOO”, Ladd shouted as it broke into sprint, a wicked grin as he dashed directly at the guards. They braced for whatever attack he could be but he twisted and ducked right past them and darted down the isles. The crowds in the church pews watched aghast at the scene.

Stopping only a few paces before the bishop, Ladd grinned, “Apologies for the disturbance, my fine sir, but when I heard a sword saint such as yourself would be passing through town, I couldn’t not come and visit.” Ladd's heart began to pound, the thrill of being in a master's presence excited him.

The sword saint didn’t seem assumed, without speaking he graciously stepped around the podium and began to draw his sword. Fire was in his eyes and a sneer grew on his face.

Ladd grinned, pleased with the sword saint's response, “Wonderful! May our duel be extravagant, a story told for years to come!” Ladd’s left hand slipped into his pouch, grabbed a glove, and prepared for his formal challenge. Raising the glove across his chest, tensed his arm to throw and shouted,

“En-”



“-garde, Good Si~”

The jovial bellow rang throughout the empty checkered streets. The mouth that spoke it still cracked into a smile but the eyes that gleamed above it twitched. The stars that they once held flickered into confusion.

“Good Sir?” He spoke once more and blinked several times to confirm what he saw. More aptly, what he didn’t see. Only moments ago, Ladd stood in a grand cathedral, challenging a foe he dreamed of facing. The dim light of the torches had gently washed over Ladd's form. A small glint had reflected off the tip of his blade as he spoke his challenge.

Now, he found himself somewhere else. Endless roads of an elegant city, perfectly cut into squares of white and black. Each building was crafted without fault and not even time could blemish the path. Even Ladd’s footprints left no mark as he moved from his dueling stance.

A long sigh escapes from his mouth, the disappointment of losing the chance to duel such a revered foe weighing heavily on him. The glove he had prepared to throw laid limply in his hand as he sheathed his rapier.

That disappointment is soon washed away by a new feeling brewing within his chest. A new excitement that he has trouble containing. Questions like, “Where am I?” and “Who brought me here?” crowded his mind but a presence answered his question not with words but a feeling.

This feeling is one he has felt many times before. A feeling that he dedicated his entire life chasing after, a feeling he felt near moments ago that got washed away. A presence spoke to him but with no words.

The presence promised him a duel but just any duel. It promised a Grand Duel with the greatest foes he could ever wish to fight. It also spoke of a reward for winning but Ladd didn’t care for that.

A smile blossomed on his face, he still had many questions but they could wait. “Where in which can I find these foes?!” Ladd calls into the empty streets. Once again, the response came in a feeling. All he had to do was walk down the street.

He couldn’t contain himself anymore, nearly skipping Ladd began down the chequered road in front of him. “A Grand Duel,” he muttered to himself, tasting the words as he said them. Ladd didn’t know what that could mean but the thought of it filled his chest with excitement.

This could be exactly what Ladd was searching for, a challenge to cement him as the greatest duelist in the land. In all lands. A sword saint was nothing compared to the promise of this presence.

He takes one last step and when he looks up once more he is no longer the city he was just moments ago



Though slightly annoyed with the constant near-instant transporting, Ladd gazed upon the new sight before him. It was… nothing. He stood in a black void, devoid of anything of substance outside of himself and figures too far for him to see clearly in the darkness.

CRACK

A gunshot tore through the air around Ladd and a miasma of color followed its trail. It spread like a river flowing to every corner of the void filling it with life.

Ladd’s face lit up as he stared at the infinite expression of color in front of him. He’s heard of rumors of similar sights being hidden in the great tundra north of his homeland but he’s never seen it. Even now he doubts that those lights are close to the wonder of these.

CRACK

A second shot can be heard and the color fades as quickly as it came. A dull gray blankets and mutes the color that was once there. The glory that was once there was gone.

As a feeling of loathing for what was just lost set into Ladd the sky began to crack. The endless gray spilled out on him and the figures around him. An endless sea of sand surrounded him.

Now Ladd had the chance of seeing the people around him but he only got the chance to see the two closest to him.

To his left stood a person wearing a variety of muted blues. They were interesting to Ladd as they seemed to hide most of the prominent features behind a large cape and hood. Even upon peering into the hood the face hidden within was utterly plain to Ladd. Ladd’s glance followed them to their hand which rested on a sword. a Blade that promised Ladd a challenge that he could not refuse.

To his right a lady who was far too pale, wearing a shrine maiden attire. Her figure is obscured by a smoke that slightly covers her form. At this angle, Ladd couldn’t discern any prominent features. Furthermore, no weapons clearly on her person either, curious for someone about to compete in a Grand Duel.

Above both people was a symbol that curved into itself in an endless spiral, Curious Ladd pondered. He noticed above himself a white 5-spoked circle with perfectly straight lines. Theirs was most certainly different than his own.

A light smile flashed on Ladd's face, These are the Grand duelists promised to me. Both are so… different! Unique! Exquisite! Now come to me, may our duel commence! Ladd's hand slipped under his cloak and grabbed a pair of gloves. Cannot duel without the proper manners, he confirmed to himself.

As he situated himself, a mighty voice called,

“Welcome to the Field of Sand. No Good can guide you further, no Evil can sweep you away. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in emptiness.”

Post #: 6
1/28/2024 17:57:51   
Necro-Knight
Member

A flash of color against the gray landscape around him drew Ryuk’s attention to his right. What appeared to be a humanoid of some variety was visible just around the corner of the pyramid. At this distance, the irradiated agent was unable to make out fine details, but the sheer lack of combat gear was obvious. As he climbed the next step, he realized what the attire reminded him of, at a glance. Tech-Monks in Disivia were renowned for both their fighting ability and near magical prowess with any form of cyberware you could hand them. Whether it was through a lifetime of meditation or undercover illegal activity, he’d never been able to fully figure out.

What was obvious, in the here and now, was that anyone strolling through a combat zone in such loose attire was confident enough to not need anything else. A grade-A threat, in his mind, but one that clearly had other plans than immediately hunting him down. Raising a hand to block the relentless sun whenever it peaked over the pyramid, Ryuk adjusted his movement. The agent was still heading upward, each step calculated and precise in armor that wasn’t precisely built for tender movements, but now he was drifting ever closer towards the corner at his right.

Another flash of movement drew his eyes as the blood-radiation monitor on his HUD ticked up a few percentages. He hadn’t even realized his heart had been beating so heavily since his arrival and his internal radiation had risen in-kind. Normally, he’d follow his own somewhat-amateur meditation techniques to keep himself at a safe level, but now? He only calmed his breathing and let his body take the natural response to incoming combat.

Sometimes your body knows a situation better than you do… best to listen.

Nearing the final “step” near the pristine cap of the pyramid, Ryuk finally halted his ascension and instead knelt down, removing as much of his silhouette against the sun as possible. His eyes were already losing the dull ache they’d had during the climb, the harsh light was now to his back. The baggy-clothed individual was there, reaching for something the agent couldn’t make out and another being stood a few yards away.

He reminded Ryuk of the Corporate “suits” he and Serena often dealt with in the city center, fine clothes and unblemished perfection. Even a cape to tie the ridiculous get-up together. Ryuk would’ve rolled his eyes if he hadn’t been so intently focused on the situation at-hand.

What is it with these people and not wearing proper equipment? Did they get kidnapped from… wherever they’re from as well?

The threat of whatever strung-out being or beings that were running this show went up a few tiers in Ryuk’s mind, but it was a thought he filed away for later. Obviously, to get out of this little game, he had to play it.

For now, he remained still and watched.
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 7
1/29/2024 5:25:49   
Geddesmck
Member
 

 “I have been instructed to apologise for punching you.”

Celerity said nothing more. Lukas Klein looked at her expectantly, a smug grin kept barely under check. Sharina Belfont was next to the young heir to the Klein fortune, sharing his expectant look, but with no sign of the smugness. She kept her mouth shut tight and shied away from eye contact with Celerity.

Professor Yarrow stood behind Celerity and in a rare display of exasperation he grunted and gently pushed her forward. The young half-orc grimaced. Speaking these words was as unpleasant as forcing herself to stomach the bland meals the academy served. “Very well. I am sorry for punching you.”

Sharina nodded, but kept her eyes averted. Lukas let his smile break out in full, then looked up at the professor, “That doesn’t seem very sincere to me Professor.”

Before Yarrow could say anything Celerity continued. “In truth Lukas I am not particularly sorry for punching you. However I am willing to make this gesture to end the matter and I do regret causing Sharina injury” the grin on Lukas’s face faltered and he opened his mouth to protest to the Professor, but Celerity continued, “Now if you two would be so kind as to apologise to me we can get on with our studies.”

Lukas began to babble indignantly; demanding a proper apology, claiming Celerity did not belong at the academy, he insisted he had done nothing wrong, making threats about speaking to his father, all in barely coherent jumble. Sharina looked up and finally made eye contact with Celerity, shock at the demand breaking through her discomfort. Celerity simply stood still and resolved. Yarrow for his part put his head in his hands and seriously considered if education was really the career path he should have dedicated himself to.



Countess Sharina Belfont stood illuminated by the enchanted lights of the Brass Palace’s gardens. The unnatural light cast deep shadows across her face and exaggerated the expression of shock plastered across it. “That is not a wise jest to make in this of all places Cel.”

“It is no jest,” Celerity continued to walk and gestured for Sharina to walk beside her. “Archmage Alana held great power in the Empire. She did her best to keep it indirect, but when I tried to expose her, my evidence was ignored or lost. Instead fabricated crimes we laid at my feet. Peacekeepers in each town were on high alert for me. The newspapers spread images of my face and disgusting lies about me. Even the grand council made a public announcement to call me an enemy of the state. She had influence in all the most important places.” Celerity gestured back into towards the Brass Palace where the ball continued uninterrupted by her absence for now. Heat entered her normally measured voice. “I spoke to Prince Otto von Blanburg in there and he lauded me for bringing Alana’s crimes to light,” she spat out a bitter laugh, “That man knew full well the extent of her crimes already. His own private guards fought me not six months ago in the sewers below Torbin!”

In the low light Celerity couldn’t see the colour draining from the countesses’ cheeks. “But the Archmage is dead now. She can’t do any more harm.”

“She wasn’t the worst. This empire is built on lies, exploitation and corruption,” with a wry smile Celerity gestured to herself, “I am their hero today because it makes a good story. But once I start to cause problems, and I will, once again I shall be just the daughter of a savage. Once again the ungrateful illegitimate child who does not know how lucky she is. The ugly brute in a gaudy dresses who wants everyone else to suffer like she does.”

Sharina knew, without understanding how, that every word Celerity spoke was true. And she knew that each word was said with unshakable resolution. “Cel… I know its not perfect, but without the empire what is there?”

Celerity fixed her with a steady look. Even in the paltry light of the gardens at night her eyes shone. Not with the curiosity or intelligence that had once been seen in Yarrow’s eyes, or the same spark Sharina’s still demonstrated. Instead with a steady, unmoving and inevitable conviction.

“Chaos.”



The ever-flowing sand running across the smooth surface of the pyramid tugged at Celerity’s balance incessantly. She considered adjusting the friction beneath her feet, but the expenditure of focus and need to undo it should quick movement be necessary made it a poor choice of her limited resources.

She had ascended halfway up the structure, turned a corner and now traversed along the sun-soaked side. Her new vantage granted a better view of some of the others who she had briefly spotted before the pyramid had hidden them from sight. The ‘girl’ she has previously noticed was making her survival instincts flare with alarm and she was mindful to keep her barrier oriented to stay ready on an intercept path between them.

A flurry of movement and sound.

The creature that Celerity had named girl bounded off, blessedly away from Celerity’s own position. The way it moved marked it as unhuman, reminding the mage of some of the twisted creatures that Alana had employed in her vicious hunt.

That creature would have to be dealt with, battle or no.

But it seemed it would be someone else’s problem for now. The group were beginning to converge towards one side of the pyramid. She had continued to move further along the side of it, away from her initial position. The sand flowed denser at higher steps. It was manageable to her with some concentration at this halfway point, but the tactical implication of the unusual footing was filtering through her mind.

To Celerity’s right and several feet above her, near the very peak of the pyramid, she noticed movement. A dark shadow crouched in apparent observation. The armoured figure? They were the only one she could not otherwise see.

“Hello there. My name is Celerity Adore,” she called loud enough for her voice to carry to any who care listen, but directed it towards the black-clad figure, “I know not why we are here. Do you intend to visit violence upon me? For know that if you do it shall be meted out with equal vigour.”

She kept the barrier oriented towards the creature-who-was-not-quite-a-girl, but otherwise swung her body and attention towards the top of the pyramid. Her parasol held steady in one hand to shade from the light, her staff in the other planted casually on the step above her.

A spell formed in her mind and she felt the familiar mental click of completion as it began to take effect, flowing out through the base of her staff. Less sand began to flow around her feet as it accumulated on the step above her. The friction of that step, for the five feet centred before her, was increased dramatically. If one were to step upon it, they would find their foot stuck as if a powerful adhesive held them fast. The sand betrayed the presence of the sorcery, as it was also getting trapped against the altered surface. She would have to hope that if someone did approach her from that direction the telltale sand would escape their notice and they would trap themselves vulnerable before her.

She took a deep breath and felt the joy of peril electrify her nerves. It had been months since she had faced such a mysterious situation and found herself in such potential danger. It said something concerning that she had missed this.

She grinned. By the truth, I love this!
AQ DF  Post #: 8
1/29/2024 21:04:57   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 Vale turned to her right, where the closest Life-Song stood. He was a young man clad entirely in snow-white formal wear. He would’ve blended in perfectly against Sou’s bleached walls. The circle that fades above him confirms her hunch; a white circle, its spokes perfectly straight. He is too far for her to feel his Song, yet Vale suspects anyone with such a sense of grandioseness as to clad himself like a swan must have a vivid soul. And perhaps enough of an ego for Vale to get them talking. Vale licks her lips and steps towards him, catches his gaze with her own. He takes a few strides up the pyramid before brandishing his arms wide. “Competitors, Challengers, Grand Champions! I beseech thee, listen to thy words and I shan’t make but a simple request. I challenge ye to a grand duel! For I, Ladd Nisent hath come with victory in thy eyes and my soul blazing for battle. I am assured you shall not disappoint, ENGARDE!" With a flourish, he thrusts a glove from each of his sides. The glove directed towards Vale flies smoothly, and Vale catches it easily in her right hand.

“I accept.” Vale strides towards him, the sands’ warm caress a welcome contrast to the City’s stone. “I am Vale, Protector of Life.” She gives him a self-chosen title, though not an untrue one. It matters not what words she uses; the point is that she has a title, so he will want to provide his own. And titles are personal. Titles hold Life.

Her foot meets the first step of the pyramid, and his Song flickers into view, marking that he lives. Vale pushes her body forward, another step as she leans into him, and his lips open to respond.

“Oh Lady of Life--” His anticipation thrums through Vale’s body, electric. Her lips part; her breath stills. “--protector of its grace--” Vale rises to her tiptoes; her eyes dart between flashes of steel in battles past. Her-- his-- heartbeat quickens. “--my steel awaits.” His Song stills, and Vale’s excitement dulls to a quiet thrum. A simple one. Vale’s heart falls slightly: the swan is too focused on a love for battle to give Vale much more to work with.

Her lithe fingers brush aside the silk scarf tail that flows beside her waist. Beneath it is a pouch too small to fit a hand in, and she silently unlatches it and plucks a small sphere from within. It’s barely the size of a pea, and Vale rolls it in her fingers for a moment. It isn’t dangerous-- merely a distraction. Vale had learned that lesson quite early: Life is much easier to manipulate when its focus is elsewhere.

With a smooth flick, Vale strikes the pea with her fingernail and flings it to her left up the pyramid. She tilts her head from it, and her hood shields her eyes as the firework bursts into a silent explosion of light. A momentary, cold thrill flushes through Vale from the swan as he shields his face from the light. Ah, so your concentration can break. Vale reaches beneath her cape and grips the hilt of a dagger.

“Stay away, kith.” A discordant, echoing voice pierces Vale’s concentration; her ears flatten and her grin turns into a tense growl. “His flesh is mine.”

Vale’s pupils narrow to slits as a second figure dashes from above Ladd. At a glance, she is human, but her taut skin and ink-black veins elicit echoes of demons in Vale’s mind. Her dark, piercing sclerae stare through Vale’s wooden mask, and a shiver runs down her spine. Vale could hear the being’s song, inharmonic and tumultuous. She could press further, see what the creature really felt, but… something about this being seemed very wrong.

“You dare lay claim on a Life?” Vale snaps, teeth bared. No being, not even a demon, has any right to claim the swan as its own; to withhold a life Vale already knows better than it ever would. Vale’s grip tightens on her dagger’s hilt. It gleams in the sunlight, sending colorful reflections across the inside of Vale’s cloak. The tip of her tail flicks rapidly back and forth as her eyes lock onto the swan. With a flick of her wrist, Vale sends her dagger flying.

Not if I get to him first, fiend.

Post #: 9
1/29/2024 21:17:12   
Dragonknight315
Member

<Higher.>

Eager to meet her prey, the wraith willed herself forward. She took one step up the pyramid, and her body let out an audible crack. Her bones shifted in and out of place, her unearthly flesh contorting to better suit her needs.

Another step forward, and Ephemera leaned in–

<Hunt.>

–and leapt forward. Like a wild animal, the wraith made her way across the pyramid on all fours. With each bound, she felt her cold talons scrape against the sand-covered crystal. Unyielding, the stone would not succumb to her sharp embrace. It was infuriating; she could feel the craving sweep through her core, the cacophony of impulses refined to a single point. Oh how she wanted to feel the warmth of another on her skin– to feel their flesh give way to blood and screams.

With her mind brimming with ill intent, the wraith focused her gaze. Ink trailed behind the dark maiden like a bloodstain and marked her path. As she neared the corner, Ephemera could see her quarry emerge from the curtain of sunlight as they made their presence known.

“Competitors, challengers, champions!... I challenge ye to a grand duel!”

Dressed in ornate and exotic robes, the young man gave a flourish as he called out to the other competitors. As his eyes locked with the wraith’s, he showed not an ounce of hesitation.

“... ENGARDE!”

A blur moved in Ephemera’s sight. Instincts took over, and the wraith raised one claw. The air hissed as with one swipe she tore the glove to ribbons. While the gesture was foreign to the wraith, its intent was certain. This so-called duelist carried a death wish. She would be all too happy to oblige.

But before she could respond, another voice spoke out, one whose words brimmed with enchanted flame.

“I accept.”

The wraith lurched forward and tilted her head over to look over the sand-swept steps. Though covered by cloak and mask, their kind was known to the maiden.

<Kith. Fox-kin.>

“I am Vale,” the kitsune spoke, anointing herself with a name as her tail flickered from underneath her cloak. “Protector of life.”

“You can see it?”

Ayane shuttered as she felt the weight of her father’s eyes upon her. Too young to comprehend her father’s concern, the child couldn’t understand why he looked at her with such an intense stare. Unable to handle the strain, she tried to turn her gaze, but her father grabbed her face and looked her in the eye.

“Ayane. This is serious. Do you or do you not see it? Don’t lie to me.”

“... I do.”

The girl gave her answer, and this time she did not flinch. The father, letting out a long sigh, released his daughter and rubbed his face. While he accepted her answer, it brought him no peace.

Ayane’s eyes fell past her father, through the house’s entrance and outside to the moon-cast road. In the dead of night, she saw it.

The father chose his next words carefully. “Ayane... I want you to tell me exactly what you see.”

“... A blue light. It’s like fire, but there's no smoke and it’s hovering in the air.”

The child spoke plainly as if it were a matter of fact. But as the father sat down next to his daughter, he saw nothing.

“And have you seen anything else strange?” The father watched as the girl tilted her head. He corrected himself. “Anything you haven’t told us.”

Ayane looked down at her lap as the child mulled it over.

“Out in the woods... When I’m playing with the others? I can hear someone calling me.”

The father tried his best to hide his grim expression, but the child could see the horror on his face.

“Ayane...” The girl flinched as her father pulled her close and whispered to her. “I... Your mother and I need to talk. I can’t explain it, but... There’s something special.”

“Special?” The girl perked her head at the words.

“Yes, Ayane. You're special. You can see things your mom and I can’t. Tomorrow we’ll go to the shrine and talk about it. But...”

The girl held her breath as her father composed himself.

“Please. Whatever you do, don’t listen to those voices. And never follow those lights. Okay?”

The wraith let out a low growl, the voices stirring as dormant memories pushed to the surface.

<Lies. You are no protector, child of trickery.>

The wraith squeezed her claws against the corner of the crystal, the sand cutting into her palm. Though the kith seemed unaware of the wraith’s presence, she was already dead in Ephemera’s heart.

<I will reap the truth from your tender flesh, and I will savor every moment.>

Before she could indulge in the delicacy, however, there was the matter of the duelist. Though Ephemera was all but certain in some mischief from this “Vale,” there was less known about the one called Ladd. He stood only a short distance from her with steel in hand and a kindling in his eyes. He was simply a human, Ephemera believed, but there was infinite potential in humanity.

<Infinite, neverending cruelty.>

As the wraith shifted her stance, ready to pounce towards the duelist, the kitsune intervened. In an instant, the world turned white as the air ignited with a flash that swept off the crystal pyramid.

The wraith howled as Ephemera reeled from the sudden burst of light. Her feet shuffled on the sand as she struggled to keep her balance. She fell back one step, barely managing to save herself from tumbling down. She leaned over the edge, and her soulless eyes met the gaze of the trickster. The wraith could feel the kitsune grinning through her mask.

“Stay away, kith.” Ephemera bellowed, her voice echoing with the weight of the shattered chorus. Her hair began to shutter as the shadows deepened around her form.

“His flesh is mine.”

“You would dare claim a life?!” the kitsune exclaimed as she summoned her strength, unwilling to back down. It was then that the wraith caught a flicker of light. Her eyes traced the colorful glint and fell upon the steel in the kitsune's hands.

<So be it.>

As the wraith bared her ink-stained maw, her hair came alive. The ropes of pure darkness lifted from her shoulders and coiled around her back– a measure of protection should the duelist make good on his threats.

<My death. My burden.>

Ephemera raised her scarred hands and lunged down the pyramid towards the trickster.

<I will strangle you with it.>
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 10
1/29/2024 22:43:24   
markthematey
Member

As much as he wished to lunge abound for one of his fellow competitors, Ladd knew that would be unbecoming of him. A battle without form is naught but a brawl, he thinks as he clears his throat.

“Ahem..” He spoke softly to himself, maintaining a regal pose but reconsidered. There were two people to challenge at once, right now he could only see one to his left, the blue-capped individual. If the person to the right came this Ladd would need to issue another challenge, which would have wasted precious time talking when he had already begun one duel. This conundrum plagued Ladd’s mind. If they both came his way how would he duel both of them without requiring the other to wait?

Quickly, he stepped up the pyramid and the answer came to him just as he reached the corner. He would simply challenge them both and duel them two-on-one. This would certainly not be the first time he had to duel multiple people at once. He could recount many times when the local guard simply couldn’t contain themselves watching one of his spectacular duels and joined in themselves. They would do this without properly challenging him first but he couldn’t expect everyone to know the manners in dueling.

Sweeping his blade along the step, he announced

“Competitors, Challengers, Grand Champions! I beseech thee, listen to thy words and I shan’t make but a simple request.” Ladd’s eyes swept both sides of the structure, both foes were approaching his way. Good that I grabbed two then he grinned to himself.

He felt the gloves he had hidden beneath his cape, testing their weight he moved them so he held each between different fingers. The heavy silk-like thread rested between his thin glove. He knew these gloves well, he had thrown them countless times in the past. With these gloves came the rumble of his chest. This passion is what he strives for. He took a moment to relish the feeling he got right before a battle. He could almost hear his heart in his ears as he continued.


“I challenge ye to a grand duel! For I, Ladd Nisent hath come with victory in thy eyes and my soul blazing for battle. I am assured you shall not disappoint, ENGARDE!” In a quick motion, his hand flicks from beneath his cloak and a glove is sent flying towards the person to the left. With a second motion a second sails towards the person on the right.

Ladd’s passion had always been a strong and a weak point of his. In moments like these, it overwhelmed him. His entire being tingled, and his muscles begged to let them free. A younger Ladd would have already lunged but not now, he awaited a response as it was proper.

The first glove was caught by an elegant hand, with words that quickly followed. “I accept.” The woman's soft voice whisked over Ladd as she moved up the pyramid “I am Vale, Protector of Life.”

Relief washed over his mind and a smile broke over his face, turning he addressed Vale directly.

“Oh Lady of Life, protector of its grace,” Ladd’s voice spoke exaggeratedly, as a bard would sing a song. He steps his right foot forward and sinks his knees slightly into a balanced stance. Now his words are monotone, honed, precise,

“My steel awaits.”

His body went still, the feeling of excitement wasn’t gone but focused on a single point. His mind and body met together with one single goal, pierce their target, and not let victory slip. His eyes traced each movement of Vale’s form. Nothing too small to ignore.

He saw her finger tap something and then flick up the pyramid. Ladd couldn’t trace what had left but an explosion of light bloomed in front of the second person he had just challenged.

His concentration broke, nearly embarrassed he had forgotten that there was a second competitor already. This wasn’t a duel nor was it a two-on-one battle as he expected. A SKRIMISH! Ladd nearly cheered to himself. My master would never let me enter skirmishes or anything beyond single-man combat. Oh, how I yearned to join a Melee. Oh Great Presence above, you have given me what I could only have wished for as a child, a true Melee to compete in!

His thoughts tried to run away from the battle in front of him but his brain quickly quieted his elation once more. It molded it back into a fine point, his mind becoming a blade as it aligned with his body. This time his focus split between the two fighters.

“Stay away, kith. His flesh is mine.” the being roared to his right. Ladd took this as another acceptance to his challenge and he would gladly duel her but it would be disrespectful to the other who more graciously accepted his duel. He would need to simply fight them both at the same time.

“You dare lay claim on a Life?” Vale responded. The question perturbed Ladd. What was a duel but to lay claim to another? He had~ no, Ladd shut the thought from his mind. He studied both of them as he noticed the glint of steel fly from the fox-tailed person to his left. His hyper focused mind fixated on the dagger.

His sword moved very slightly but the timing was perfect, Quarte was the only thought the flashed into his head. It commanded his arm to move slightly in front of his left breast, and the body of the blade collided with the dagger, sending it sprawling down the pyramid.

Ladd narrowed his eyes and a slight grin broke onto his face, he softly said a prayer to himself as he had many times before

“May you be the ones to fulfill my simplest of requests.”
Post #: 11
1/31/2024 23:18:28   
Necro-Knight
Member

Besides an exchange of words, nothing was happening below him. Ryuk watched like a futuristic gargoyle atop the pyramid’s higher ledge, still as the glass beneath him. Internally, his heart gradually thumped harder and harder against his chest as the anticipation grew. A single moment, a nano-second. The opportunity of attack could come and go that quickly and if he missed it, he’d need to start completely from scratch. That would cost time, time he did not have.

As pearlescent eyes flicked from one contender to another, an unfamiliar voice rang out and was amplified by his helmet’s audio system, sharpening the quality and giving him a quick arrow flash of its direction. Ryuk didn’t remove his gaze from the two below him, but he listened intently.

“Hello there. My name is Celerity Adore,” the voice was female, matching the name and clearly directed towards him, not just background noise. Had they not been sealed within his armor, Ryuk’s palms would’ve developed a layer of sweat. He hadn’t accounted for a contender to be behind him as well.

“I know not why we are here. Do you intend to visit violence upon me? For know that if you do it shall be meted out with equal vigour.”

Violence upon her? He’d barely known she existed until a few seconds ago and was still in the process of executing one plan, let alone a second. Judging by her clear lack of springing at him when she had the element of surprise, Ryuk opted to ignore the woman. A gamble, perhaps, but he needed focus to accomplish his first goal. Systematic execution, that was how the agent operated.

Returning his full focus to the pair below without answering Celerity, Ryuk noticed that the being in loose garments was suddenly moving, a lupine tail visible from beneath the folds. That rose a brow beneath his crimson HUD, before an explosion of light and color forced him to turn away. Shielding his sensitive eyes with his left hand, he kept at least one eye open to try and observe what followed the very obvious distraction.

Before he could refocus, movement tore his gaze away and towards his left. Sudden, liquid and…inhuman. Another feminine contender, but her appearance sent a shiver down his spine even with a layer of cold steel plated to it. He’d drug corpses out of the Disivia City river before, his suit providing perfect protection for diving into toxic waters. The figure reminded him much of that, the dead color of her skin, blackened veins, the emptiness of her visage and the wild hair like tendrils… yet she moved, spoke.

“His flesh is mine," the living corpse said, in what sounded to Ryuk like a typical response from a living dead that had crawled out of last week's cyber-flick.

Did the competition raise even the dead to participate? Would he be cursed to such a fate were he to fail and die at someone’s hand? Was such a thing even possible or had he lost his mind in this exotic place? An exclamation point suddenly flared in his vision, an angry blue against the red of his visor. His radiation levels had spiked as he’d begun to hyperventilate at the living horror not too far away, prompting his suit to respond in alarm.

Acknowledging and dismissing the notice with a flick of his eyes, the agent fought to get himself under control with practiced measures of breath and cast his gaze downward again. Surely the others had to be just as stricken by such a sight? A flash of metal from the tailed figure was like a signal beacon amidst the chaos of his mind, followed by the caped man deflecting it with a precise movement of his own blade.

Weapons. Combat.

The bio-chemical keg that was this arena was about to explode and he needed to move, to strike, before he was engulfed in it.

Unsure if he could even kill something already dead and deeming the man in the suit as a workable distraction, Ryuk focused fully upon the tailed figure. Another woman, if he’d heard right, but also clearly not human.

Hopefully, she can still die like one.

Ryuk straightened and stepped back from his perch, using his boots to brush gathered sand from his path as he did so. He’d only been watching for a short while, but it felt good to move, to be taking action. A moment passed as muscle beneath obsidian hydraulics tensed and metal servos responded in kind, propelling the agent forward in a run. As he met the edge of the pyramid’s step, Ryuk kicked off, launching himself up and over the gathering forming below him.

Right fingers forming into a fist that tilted forward a few degrees at the wrist. With the ring of unsheathing metal, a segmented blade extended from Ryuk’s right gauntlet, locking into place to form a wickedly sharp straight-sword with a crimson line running up its face. Should the weapon taste blood, the special nano-composite tubing built within would deposit the clean blood directly into his body, providing Ryuk with a direct way to fight off his disease without using his own stores.

For now though, he was focused purely on inflicting damage as he descended towards the tailed woman, right arm raised. In a usual urban setting, he would’ve aimed to impale her to the floor and prevent an immediate escape or counter. Here, he doubted even his mechanized strength could make his blade find any real purchase in the sands below. Instead, he brought his blade towards the figure’s shoulder in a downward swipe from overhead. If he was lucky, he’d cleave right through on his way to the ground and remove her from the fight entirely. Succeeding in this single act of violence would also be a signal to every other contender around him; he was a threat, he was to be feared. Being so terribly outnumbered, such a statement would go a long way.

His lips curled over his teeth as he fell and time seemed to slow.

You took this leap of faith, Ryuk, now do as you were trained. Execute.
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 12
2/1/2024 5:01:39   
Geddesmck
Member
 

 The figure in dark armour leapt to join the battle taking place amongst the other figures. Celerity stood apart, unchallenged or accosted. As of yet, she was unsure what purpose she had been brought here for. Her assumption that it was to prove worthiness through battle had clearly been the same conclusion the others had come to.

But for what purpose?

She released her hold on the spells she had already cast. There seemed to be no immediate danger to her, unless she intended to place herself in it. As much as the thrill of mortal danger sang its siren song, the rational part of her brain slowly made itself known.

And if I fight and perish, all my plans and ambitions cease. For what? A prize? There is no indication of such. She watched the ever complicating melee beneath her and with a shake of her head began to walk back to where she had arrived.

“I will be no pawn. Take me back whence I came, this game is not for me.”
AQ DF  Post #: 13
2/2/2024 20:42:07   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 Vale wraps their fingers around the hilt of their twinned sword. Its smooth amaranth wood fits snugly within their grip, sanded meticulously so the two opposing sides fit snugly as a whole. A gift from a friend-- long ago, as all friends are.

The fiend closes in on her, its long, mangled hair poised and pointed like grotesque tentacles. It is humanoid; its Song must be as Vale is familiar with, the tumbling Chaos Vale loves and fights to protect. Vale draws her blade with her left hand and points it downwards, arcing it in front of her. Fox’s dark metal clashes with midnight black claws as lavender gaze clashes with reflective gray. The fiend’s mangled hair rises to supplement her opponent’s strength, and Vale leans her body forwards, pushing with all of her weight. But Vale is calm-- if conflicted. The monstrosity’s Song is dissonant, and Vale hesitates to reach within it. But it would help her learn of its nature, its weaknesses. And despite her misgivings… Vale has to know. She gives a final shove and forces the fiend’s claws aside as her eyes alight and she turns her Life-Sight towards the mysterious being.

Its Song wails.

Grief explodes in Vale’s chest, stronger than a thousand Songs, pounding thousands of fists against her ribs. She staggers back, but the Song holds memories, so many memories, all overlaying at once like thousands of dissonant, screeching solos. Fingers clench as metal-- lightning-- fire-- clambers across her skin like a swarm, slicing-- sparking-- burning until she is naught but bone. Vale tries to scream, but ozone-- sulfur-- iron-- bursts through Vale’s nostrils. It swells through her face, forcing its way through her throat, over her tongue, out of her lips. Eyes widen as debris-- figures-- corpses surround her. A hand touches her own, pressing something small and cold into her palm, then fades, and she is cold, so cold, ears fold as screams-- screams-- screams-- STOP!

Vale rips their focus away from the creature and brushes a hand against their collarbone, stunned. Their left hand grips their sword fiercely, shaking, blood dripping from their palm. She blinks once, twice, throat seized tight, mind aching.

Its Song is… incredible. Agony-- beautiful, heart wrenching agony. Just a taste of the girl’s mind managed to rip Vale from the battle, from time, from her very sense of self. She takes a breath, newfound admiration filling her chest.

She ignores the dread that creeps up her throat; and the twinge of guilt for turning from the agony of a girl who cannot do the same.

Vale senses the third being as the shadows are still fading from her eyes. An unfamiliar Song, another opponent from above. Vale slides down a step as the stranger leaps through the air--

Pain rips through her as a sharp blade cleaves down upon her shoulder. Distance and the leather bindings keep her in one piece, but Vale bares her fangs as the sword traces a lightning-sharp cut below her collarbone. Her chest heaves, a feeling almost like her strength is fleeing through the wound; it fades as soon as the weapon leaves her skin, leaving scarlet stains across her stone-blue bindings.

Vale snarls and slams her focus forwards. Her-- his-- stomach clenches, lips tremble in fear. She takes no time to appreciate the sensation. Brows curl in confusion as Vale-- her opponent-- searches for a memory and does not find it. He’s scared of something he does not know. Vale’s eyes flick instantly to the agonized girl, and her heart twinges. She grips her sword in both hands, resting it on her left thigh, then slashes upwards. Eyes alight with orange, and Vale adds a whisper of her own into her new opponent’s Song.

"She’s right behind you.”

Post #: 14
2/2/2024 22:32:00   
markthematey
Member

Ladd’s prayer finished, he looked back to the steps below him. As he deflected the first blade just a moment ago, Vale and the other who was yet to name themselves got into an exchange of blades.

Though slightly disappointed that he was being left out, it mattered not. He had challenged them both officially, if they forgot he was there already he had no qualms about making an unannounced attack.

In the corner of Ladd’s eye, he noticed another figure behind him. It stalked the battle below but Ladd was confident its gaze wasn’t bearing down on him. He hadn’t officially challenged them yet so they had no reason to attack him of course. Ladd itched to grab another glove from his pocket and proclaim another duel but out of respect for his two current opponents, he held himself back. A foe he would fight later most certainly.

Reassured, Ladd deepened his stance, waiting for his moment. Shifting most of his weight to his back foot, the energy spots in his shoes almost seemed to tingle as he prepared. The endless routines of his young days informed his stance. This familiarity was comforting, easing his mind back to a honed state of combat.

His pupils pinned onto his targets and traced each move of their body, searching for an opening that would guarantee a decisive blow. Of the near countless duels Ladd had found himself in only but a select handful lasted beyond the first strike.

As shameful as it is to admit, Ladd had to spend years fighting much less skilled opponents before the others gave him a chance. Or so he thought because many of the elite fighters still denied his duel requests. Eventually fed up with this, Ladd took it upon himself to challenge them and ensure blades were crossed.

He had not to wait long as the moment came shortly after. The corpse-like being bared its claws and slashed down at Vale. The same claw that had sliced his glove into shreds earlier. Ladd felt his essence laced around and within each horrid claw. With a mental gesture, his body’s energy stretched out invisibly and instantly, connecting to the piece on the claw. The energy violently pulled back to Ladd, yanking the being's arm away.

Ladd began his lunge downwards. As easily as he breathed, he pushed off the sole of his feet shunting the energy placed there away from him. His lunge accelerated well past the normal human speed as he extended his arm forward. The tip of his blade aimed for the back of its heart, if it had one. His body, soul, and mind all focused on the blade’s end, guiding it to its destination. At that moment, nothing else mattered outside the sword and where it must go.

“NO” a monstrous voice roared. The creature's hair shot back at him attempting to intercept but Ladd’s strike couldn’t be stopped so easily. Ladd instinctually weaved the blade around the strands and steel met flesh. Momentum and the weight of his body carried the rest of the attack, the rapier slid between two of its ribs.

Effortlessly, it continued through the body, like a pin to a cushion it didn’t stop until the hilt slammed into its back. Black ink leaked from the wound flowing down the handguard and stained his glove.

The cool ink soaked the tips of Ladd’s fingers. It brought a moment of catharsis and his mind relaxed, releasing it from the battle-honed sense it was just in.

Ladd exhaled, another duel had concluded in a single attack. A shame for sure but he was lucky that this time he had a second already prepari~ The creature's hair still moved. It wrapped around his arm locking it and the blade in place.

The viscous mane attempted to ravage his arm and shoulder, only the leather under giving him protection from it. Ladd struggled to free himself but it held him like iron shackles. A sickening snap pierced Ladd’s ears as it turned its head to face him, a sickening grimace met Ladd. It was clearly feminine but covered in a rich black ink. Her eye’s savored Ladd immediate panic as a lock of hair raked his face.

He had felt the bit of steel before but an attack to the face was disrespectful to the other combatant. Ire melded with the pain and knew he was at a disadvantage. In a desperate attempt to make space between them, Ladd raised his foot to the wrathful creature’s back.

He pushed with all his might to relinquish the sword from the sinew. The resistance was at first like a brick wall but it suddenly gave way, as if it let him go purposefully; A second disrespect to Ladd's pride.

Using the momentum, he landed on the step above He raked the ground below, infusing the tip of his blade with his energy. The sand that flowed endlessly under took hold of it and continued down the pyramid. He held his blade there, infusing the sand as it passed him.

With his left hand Ladd, wiped the blood flowing over his left eye. His glove stained red, ruining the perfect white it had been before. The rough hair had left three gashes on his face, he was lucky he didn’t lose an eye but that didn’t seem to bother him now. The pain was fresh but a different feeling grew within his breast.

Ladd was interested, a person who could survive such an attack truly made for an intriguing opponent. One of the select few fights that lasted more than a single stroke of his blade. A sly smile broke onto his face.

Words of praise rested on his lips but as he attempted to speak them….

Silence
Post #: 15
2/2/2024 22:57:00   
Dragonknight315
Member

The wraith growled as she rushed down the pyramid towards the masked kith. Her bare feet found purchase on the step just before the kitsune, but she had no intention of stopping. Towering over her prey, Ephemera carried her momentum forward and lashed out with her sin-stained claw. She was mere inches from tearing into the trickster’s plain wooden mask. But just as the wraith expected, the kitsune had something up her sleeve.

In one moment, the fox reached for something beneath her cloak. In the very next, she unsheathed her hidden weapon. With all her strength, the kitsune sent her blade out to meet the wraith. The steel shuddered as Ephemera bore down with her talons.

Against all expectations, the kitsune prevailed.

Though the weight of the world fought against her, Vale held her ground, much to the wraith’s surprise. Ephemera gritted her teeth as she tried to seize back the advantage. The mass of writhing hair obeyed its master, and the strands swept down to brace the wraith’s pale arm. But it was too late to change the outcome. With her own hands, the kitsune deflected the wraith’s claws in a decisive show of strength.

Ephemera scowled at the kitsune as she shuffled on the stone, desperately trying to regain her lost balance and momentum. Now face to face with the kitsune, the wraith’s gaze pierced through the mask that protected her, to her shimmering purple eyes.

<So you have strength without–>

She could see it– her reflection in the woman’s eyes. In that vibrant purple, she could see a drop of grey. As the wraith locked eyes into her prey, the kitsune seemed enthralled as she stared into her soulless existence, into the tormented stone mirror.

<–but do you have the strength within?>

In an instant, there was a cascade of emotions. Reflections gave way to reflections until finally something snapped in the kitsune. Trembling turned to terror as Vale tore herself from the wraith’s gaze. Her momentary “strength” had turned to weakness as blood dripped from the self-inflicted wound in her palm.

<Thought so.>

The wraith licked her lips as she basked in her quarry’s stunned expression. A cacophony of so many emotions. So intense, so primal, so utterly perfect. But it was only the beginning, Ephemera knew, a sample of what was to come. She was ready to savor every last drop of suffering she could wring from the kith’s flesh. And so with ill intent, the wraith gathered herself and once again held up her claw to strike.

“Where were we?”

As the whisper left the wraith’s stained lips, however, she hesitated. A blur of motion swept across the corner of her eye. Ephemera turned her head to look back, and there they were. Two figures, both from above. One was much higher, an unknown figure clad in leather and metal for skin. They soared through the air like a bird of prey and ready to pounce. Behind them, the duelist. The man sailed down the pyramid with reckless abandon, grinning as he held his sword in hand. Both strangers of fate, their paths nonetheless converged upon the wraith and her destiny.

<I will not let you ruin this moment!>

Darkness swept across the wraith’s form as her dark strands moved to her will. A second set of monstrous claws formed at the end of her long locks, shadows dripping from their edge. The distorted shadows rushed behind the wraith to guard their master as Ephemera drove her unearthly hand down to pierce the kitsune’s chest. But once more fate denied the wraith her rightful moment. The ink sloshed in her dead veins as her hands were shunted back by an invisible force.

“No!” the monster roared, her inhuman voice cracking like shattered glass. Dragged by the momentum, Ephemera was forced back– away from her prey. She howled and thrashed in her invisible binds. The moment was brief, but it was all the duelist needed. Her hair-turned-talons tried to intercede, but Ladd was far too swift. At the apex of his maneuver, Ladd pushed through and drove his rapier into the wraith’s back.

Ayane took a deep breath as she tenderly brushed her hand across her back. The child let out a whimper as her fingers traced the bruises over her clothes. Her nerves ignited with a burning red pain, but Ayane couldn’t help it.

It was as her teacher said. She lacked “discipline.”

Ayane didn’t understand what she had done wrong, but her body understood as the fear was instilled deep in her soul. She wouldn’t have dared to act this way in front of the others. But the headmistress was gone now, and Ayane was left alone with her thoughts.

Her mind wandered to her comfort, to her family. Three moons ago, the three of them had arrived at the shrine as honored guests. Words were exchanged, words that she also did not understand. About spirits and souls and how Ayane was apparently a “reincarnation” of someone important.

Ayane looked around her sparsely decorated quarters. At first her parents stayed with her at the shrine. But after one month, they had to return to the village. They had promised to visit soon. But as the days passed, she wondered how long “soon” was? Was it days? Weeks? Months? She took care to count every moment. With each passing day, she felt the boundaries of the shrine grow tighter and tighter. One by one her personal possessions were stripped away until there was nothing truly hers other than her tears.

Today, the sun rose on the youth’s birthday, and nothing happened. No laughter. No games. No mother or father. Ayane couldn’t take it any more. She didn’t care how special she was; she simply wanted to go home.

It hadn’t dawned on Ayane’s mind how far home away was. Not until she tried her luck. There was no way she would have ever made the miles long journey, especially with such vigilant eyes.

Lost in thought, Ayane flinched as the sound of voices outside her room pulled her back to her captivity. As the door opened and the headmistress entered, the maiden-in-training threw her head to the ground in a deep bow.

“Ayane.”

“Yes, headmistress...?” Ayane kept her eyes to the ground as her voice trailed off.

“Come with me.”

With a silent sigh Ayane lifted her head and resigned herself to her fate. “...Yes, headmistress.”

The wraith’s anger turned to fury as the metal pierced through her form and emerged out the other side. Ink sputtered from the open wound as Ephemera felt her presence shrinking. A fierce blow, one that Ephemera could not ignore, but the wraith had survived worse.

As Ephemera felt the force fading from her unearthly flesh, her mind turned to vengeance. One of her dark strands fell upon the duelist’s sword arm. The malefic hair coiled like rope around his arm before the talons reached for his collarbone. It easily pierced through the cloth, the sharp digits scraping the leather underneath.

<Not enough.>

A bestial hunger swept through the wraith. Though the leather would only delay the inevitable for a short moment, Ephemera was impatient. She needed it. She needed to make him suffer. She needed to taste his fear. Now.

The wraith twisted her head to the side with an audible snap, far further than any living mortal should. The other dark strand soon followed. Ephemera wanted to see him suffer as the wraith raked it across his face.

The man seized in pain. He threw his foot forward, attempting to kick himself and his rapier free from the wraith’s grip. His struggle made it all the sweeter. The damage was already done; his fate was sealed, and so the wraith let him go.

<Show me it. Your wonderful burdens.>

Stumbling back, Ladd refused to let go of his pride. Even after the desperate struggle he leaned down and attempted to wash the blood from his blade with the flowing sand.

<My blood. His blood.>

As Ladd wiped the gore from his eyes, the wraith could see the moment of eventual realization as red blood turned to black. There was no fear, but the moment gave him pause.

Ink. It flowed from within.

Ephemera let out a silent laugh as she felt her power swell from within. The air around her turned lifeless, uncannily still. Even here, the land answered to her authority, and she demanded silence. She watched as the duelist attempted to speak, to indulge in his usual theatrics. But as he tried, Ladd's words were stolen from him, and a new voice was claimed for the wraith's tormented chorus.

<... Quiet. It’s so quiet.>
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 16
2/4/2024 21:28:31   
Necro-Knight
Member

A system of scarlet readings across his HUD informed Ryuk that the pure, or what passed as pure from this kind of creature, blood was being deposited into his own veins. It wasn’t enough to push him back into safer levels of radiation, but every drop helped. The cut had been clean, nearly surgical, if not sadly short-lived. The woman had been quick on her movement and he hadn’t cut as deeply as he’d have liked, but limited damage was better than a total miss.

That reassurance was buried somewhere beneath newfound fear and adrenaline now mixing with the woman’s blood in his veins. He’d wounded one competitor, but the dead thing was still there, unharmed and fully prepared to make him like her. Dead, rotted, wrong.

The crimson victory still dripping from his blade cooled nearly as quickly as the chill writhing down the agent’s spine and even as he wished to continue his attack, his body was locked in place where he'd landed.

"She’s right behind you,” the voice was his own, so stark and clear, slamming into the forefront of his mind.

She was, and the tailed woman was already wounded. Already dripping her precious lifeblood away. The dead thing had no life to bleed, had no heart to stop, so he would need to opt for obliteration instead. Another blue warning triangle flared over his HUD as his heart rate spiked again, only for his entire view to be scrambled when the tailed figure’s blade caught him beneath the chin and sent him back a step.

The force of the blow was more jarring than painful, a small wave of sparks flying from the point where her blade had caught one of his helmet’s fangs, and amidst the stinging ring in his skull, there was a familiarity. He’d been struck during missions on the regular, whether by bullets or makeshift blunt tools, but he’d always survived. Always made it home. This was no different, regardless of his targets, and there was no place for fear on the job.

Swallowing the all-too-rational fear with a gritting of his teeth, Ryuk shook the impact away and retracted his straight-blade back into his gauntlet, placing his hand on his left wrist as he turned and brought his left palm up to face the dead creature. As he did, he spoke for the first time since arriving in this madhouse, voice heavily modulated by the filters in his mask as he glanced at the tailed woman, only now noticing she wore a makeshift mask.

“You and I both know that whatever that thing is, it’s more dangerous than either of us, so step aside while I do this, ma’am,” he said, adding special emphasis to the final word in an attempt to force the momentary truce.

He had no way of knowing if the woman would listen or simply continue her assault on him, but keeping her at bay with words was easier than fighting two battles at once. Hopefully the wound he had just inflicted would make her hesitant to antagonize him again so soon.

Spreading the fingers of his left gauntlet, Ryuk watched as the energy tracking across his HUD redirected the excess radioactive particles he’d been generating since the battle had started and began condensing it at the single point of his palm. After a moment or two, he noticed the suit-garbed man had also tried to engage the dead entity in combat with a swift stab and seemed to only come away with a stained blade for his trouble. A result that only confirmed Ryuk’s choice of action.

Blades are useless, as are likely bullets. Best result is total destruction, as expected.

Scarlet power flared brightly along the inner workings beneath obsidian plates and red light flared in his palm as Ryuk’s armor focused a significant portion of energy. Only a nano-second of hesitation was had following the green “Weapon Charged” signal appearing across his vision before the agent braced and released the power from the device in his suit’s hand towards the entity.

He’d expected the usual sky-splitting crackle to follow, but instead, silence swallowed Ryuk like he’d been dropped into a vat of run-off sludge. Even as the violent bolt of crimson energy arced through the air towards the creature, Ryuk flicked his eyes to his energy systems. All green, nothing was suddenly failing? No warning signs lept to make themselves known, yet the only thing audible to the agent were his suit’s external radiation clickers vibrating back through the plating in response to his attack.

It was not natural then, this sudden silence. Something or someone had cut off a sense and was trying to weaken them in the process. The only combatant that this would really risk providing an advantage to was the tailed woman to his right and he’d survived a blow from her once already. The rest were in view and hopefully, one was only moments away from a well-deserved incineration.

I don’t know what hole you came from, you monster, but I’m sending you back.
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 17
2/6/2024 20:02:25   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 Sun glints in Vale’s eyes as it reflects off of her arcing sword. Metal screeches against metal as the blade skids up her opponent’s obsidian armor. His helmet bears a wolf-like face, and Vale’s blade catches on one fang and kisses her opponent’s chin. Vale’s tail stills, breathing slows, as familiarity rushes through Vale through her metallic opponent. Ears flick back and forth towards chaotic bangs and the clash of metal. But the sounds do not scare her; they are comforting, familiar though Vale does not recognize them. Her opponent is a soldier. Vale always enjoys that part; the vast array of stimuli she’s experienced that she does not know, that elicit emotions others may never expect. Every being is different. Every one is chaotic. And Vale adores them for it.

His sword folds and crinkles oddly back into his large metal hand. Vale tilts her head, ears ruffling in her confusion. Her opponent’s voice is distorted and foreign as he addresses her. “You and I both know that whatever that thing is, it’s more dangerous than either of us, so step aside while I do this, ma’am.” Vale’s lips curl in satisfaction under her wooden mask. He’s like putty in her hands, her whispers latching on and molding him exactly how Vale wants. She knows him better than he knows himself now; his Song bears her touch.

His armor is oddly silent though Vale can see the heavy metal clanking against itself. Their opponent raises his hand towards the dissonant girl. Scarlet sparks in his palm, clearly magical. Vale should warn her-- thrust their focus towards the girl and whisper a warning, something, to turn her around. They open their mouth to speak, but only silence follows. Vale feels a dark twinge in their stomach. If they dive into the girl’s Song again… Vale is acutely aware of their heartbeat, fast in their chest; acutely aware of how trapped it is by their ribs. Their tail stands rigid, ruffling the back of their cloak. Are they…

Vale shakes their head. It’s just the logical choice; if the girl’s Song sweeps them away again, they would be unable to fight. That’s all it is. The feeling in their chest… leftover from the soldier. So as crimson lightning arcs towards the strange girl, Vale does nothing to help. Vale watches.

Just like you always do, a voice whispers in the back of her mind.

As the beam slams into the girl, Vale turns her focus aside, back towards the soldier. Her muscles relax as his practiced calm washes over her once more, drowning out the last of her discomfort. The metal that covers him must fold somewhere: Vale’s eyes flick towards a point around her opponent’s hip that seems weaker than the rest. Fire alights from under her mask, and Vale slips herself once more into the soldier’s Song. A fanged grin dances across her face as his strands thrum against her fingers and she urges him to stillness.

"Keep watching; you must ensure it hurts her.”

Vale reaches down and lines her sword up against the soldier’s hip. She imagines her blade’s appearance different, shorter by a breath-- should the soldier turn, Vale hopes he may think she’ll miss. Vale sends the metal arcing towards the gap in her opponent’s armor. As it swings, magic thrums down the blade, and the image in Vale’s head flickers to life. Fractions of sunlight flicker through the blade’s tip as if it isn’t there, made of the same clear glass as the pyramid beneath.
Post #: 18
2/6/2024 22:28:49   
Dragonknight315
Member

<It’s so quiet.>

The wraith placed a claw against her cheek, her satisfaction on full display as she watched her prey struggle in the stillness. There was no banter, no speeches, no roaring crowd to cheer him on– everything Ladd had known, had relied on, was torn away. In the silence he found no purpose, only pure, distilled terror.

<What am I without my blade? What am I if I cannot fight?>

The lifeless voice echoed in Ephemera’s consciousness. Lines of ink rippled across her skin like blades, clashing, spinning– their motions silent as the grave. Though the moment would forever remain in Ephemera’s dead heart, she knew that it would soon be over for the so-called duelist.

<Find peace in oblivion.>

As Ephemera stepped forward, her hair and claws primed to strike, it seemed that Ladd had other plans. In spite of his inner turmoil, the duelist firmly clutched his blade in his hand.

The fight was not over yet.

With a flick of his wrist, Ladd twirled the steel in front of him. The sand, suffused with his essence, answered. Like a dancer, the particles leapt off the ground, choking the pyramid steps in a cloud of dust.

Ephemera lunged forward, her dark coils thrashing wide through the obscuring haze. Her claws, however, found no purchase.

<You cannot escape.>

As the wraith continued her assault, Ephemera suddenly stopped as something struck her. The sand ignited around her in a brief but violent flash. She hissed as the warmth singed her clothes; her dark coils shuddered and shrunk as bits of hair turned to smoke and ash. But most of all, the wraith felt a searing hole in her soul as an invisible fire burned on her wounded back. As her dead flesh cried out in a chorus of agony, Ephemera doubled over.

It was then that she felt the slightest prick on her knee.

Looking down, Ephemera saw the duelist perched on the pyramid step, the tip of his rapier brushing against her form. With a silent prayer, Ladd tapped his palm against the rapier. Like a cannonball, it punched through her leg with an unstoppable force.

She screamed. Ephemera let out an agonizing scream that could not be heard as her whole body froze in pain. Ladd ripped the blade out of her ink-bloodied leg. In the same motion, the duelist spun with grace as he whirled around and slammed the pommel against her head–

–against the flower in her hair.

Metal clashed against metal, and Ephemera fell back, falling down a few steps before slamming into the ground. A puddle of black flowed down with the sand, the inky mass congealing beneath her around the displaced hairpin.

She was losing. She was fading. She was forgetting.

<We– I– won't>

The wraith felt a reverberation in her tormented soul as Ladd stepped over her with blade in hand, poised to deliver the final blow.

<I won’t let you...!>

“Ah, there you are!”

Ayane’s heart skipped a beat as the familiar voice fell upon her ears. Just an instant before, the world was dark, silent, formless. But as the shrine maiden lifted her puffy grey eyes, she could feel the soft breeze brush against her hair, the roar of the waterfall behind her. The rising sun had long since departed, the waxing moon now taking its rightful place in the night sky.

Surrounded by nature, the shrine maiden felt at peace, and yet Ayane could not help but want something more.

Perched on top of her rock, Ayane spied the young man a few feet away.

<Mokou...>

His presence here was definitely a surprise, but it certainly was not an unwelcome one. Cast in soft moonlight, she could make out his features– his short brown hair, his shirt red like autumn maple, the large sack strung across his back. But most of all, the shrine maiden took note of his warm, genuine smile. A luxury in the shrine maiden's line of work.

“I’m shocked to find you out here. Don’t the priestesses stay within the temple grounds?” he remarked

Ayane let out a deep breath as her eyes settled on her sudden company. A traveler from a nearby village. Though the land graciously provided its bounty to the shrine, there were some things only mankind could provide. Rope, ink, paper, bandages– only a few of the many necessary supplies for the shrine’s continued operation. It was only a few months after her own induction did Ayane first meet Mokou. Though he had taken no vows, he and his family were highly valued by the shrine. When his father passed, Mokou did not hesitate to take up his father’s responsibilities. And so, every moon, he would make the trek to the secluded shrine. And each moon for the past decade, the shrine maiden looked forward to his arrival.

“As the headmistress’s successor, it is my duty to protect these lands, even those outside the shrine.” A rush of red swept across Ayane’s cheeks as her face crept into a guilty smile. “As such, I am afforded... some privileges.”

“Communing with the spirits, eh?” Mokou paced towards the maiden and took his place next to her. He could not help but let out an equally amused grin as he dropped his burden to the ground. “Makes for a good excuse to get away from everyone.”

“Well, if you put it that way.” The shrine maiden pulled her sleeve to her cheek as a giggle escaped her lips. “I could ask you the same thing, Mokou. What are you doing here at this hour? Shouldn’t you be on your way home to the village?”

“As a matter of fact...” The traveler’s face turned red like his shirt. Ayane could see the glimmer in his eyes as he mustered his courage. “I wanted to see you.”

“Oh?” Ayane’s face froze in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes. You see–” Mokou suddenly turned and rummaged through his sack before pulling out something. Ayane’s eyes grew wide as she spied a silk bag clasp between his hands. He held it like a precious child.

“I want to give this to you.”

“An... offering?” Her voice trailed off as Ayane took the bag into her own hands.

“No.” Mokou shook his head. “A gift. Open it.”

The shrine maiden stared at the thing in her hands for some time before finally opening it. Her fingers traced against the soft, silken walls until she felt something cold. Something metal. Slowly, carefully, Ayane clutched the it between her fingers until it slipped out the piece from the bag.

"... A flower?"

The hairpiece shimmered like a star as it caught the moonlight. Beads of orange fire dangled from its center on a loose chain. Ayane let out a gasp, much to Mokou’s delight.

“You like it?” The traveler leaned in, eager to hear the shrine maiden’s response.

“I... I do. I do! I really like it, but...”

“But?” Mokou tilted his head, and Ayane could feel him staring into her soul. Old scars came alive, and the girl retreated behind her years of discipline.

“I can’t accept this. Shrine maidens are not permitted to keep earthly possessions like this.”

“Really now? Even for someone with ‘affordances’ like you?”

“Yes... Especially for me.”

Ayane held the hairpiece in her lap; it felt heavy in her hands. She tried to turn her head away from Mokou, unable to bear his gaze any longer. But as she did, the traveler placed a hand on her shoulder. The maiden trembled in place from the sudden touch, her instincts telling her to run, to flee. But after the initial fright, it felt so comfortable.

When Ayane turned to look at Mokou, there were tears in her eyes.

“Ayane...” The man took a heavy breath as he brushed his hand against her face. She leaned in to his palm, his warmth like fire upon her skin.

“... For years you’ve shouldered this burden. People across the lands have come to you for aid. And while this is a miraculous power... I can’t help but notice how it has weighed upon you.”

<Miraculous...>

Ayane felt her whole body ache as Mokou spoke. Though the beatings stopped, the scars never healed. With each ritual, with each cleansing, the shrine maiden felt her soul grow heavier. It was a necessary price, she told herself. The people could not survive without her sacrifice. And yet, their thanks only left her more hollow. As if another piece of her was robbed from Ayane.

“I just... I felt like you needed this, Ayane.”

As she looked down at the hairpiece, something swelled within her heart.

“Mokou... I always wanted to ask you something.” The shrine maiden’s voice was steady, measured, yet Mokou could sense the silent trembling in her heart.

“Yes, Ayane?”

“You’ve visited the shrine for over a decade. But not once have you taken part in a cleansing.”

Mokou did not hesitate, his voice plain and honest. “Never.”

“Even when your father died... It must have been hard for you."

"... Yes, but–"

"But what?!" Ayane's interrupted, her voice cracking under the strain. There had to be something she could do for him.

"Is there nothing weighing on your heart?"

The traveler leaned in and spoke with a whisper. “... do you really want to hear it? My request?”

“Yes!” The girl perked her head at the man’s response, and the two locked eyes. Ayane's expression grew soft; she was practically begging him.

“Please... Tell me.”

A fire swelled behind Mokou's eyes. “I want you to be happy.”

“... Ah.”

That was it.

Without another word, something overcame the girl and she leaned in with a kiss. Ayane wrapped her arms around Mokou, and he responded in kind. Years of repressed emotions rose from Ayane's heart. Feelings she had long locked away under the guise of necessity. And yet, for just a moment, she felt so alive. So right. As if the world tilted a few degrees and then everything finally made sense. For all the power her position brought the shrine maiden, nothing could compare to this.

<So this is what's it's like... to be wanted without needing a reason why.>

As the two pulled away, Ayane held the hairpiece to her chest.

“... Can you help me with this?”

“Absolutely.”

Ayane let out a content sigh as Mokou placed the trinket in her hair, the sensation so alien to her yet so comforting. With his work completed, Ayane brought her hand up and traced the flower and the beads.

“How does it look?”

“You look beautiful, Ayane.”

The two sat in silence for a moment as they processed all that had happened. It was Mokou who spoke up.

“Well, I unfortunately must be on my way.”

As the traveler sighed and reached for his equipment, Ayane stood up, her cheeks still brimming with warmth. “I’ll keep you company until we get to the shrine... But if it's okay, maybe you could spend the night there. I'm sure they would have no objections.”

<ENOUGH.>

Hundreds of souls fell to silence as one voice rose above the chorus.

<Don’t. You. Dare–>

A lash of hair flowed around the duelist’s leg, the shadows twisting and tightening before suddenly pulling it out from under him. As Ladd crashed against the crystal steps, Ephemera– Ayane– rose with the gore-covered hairpin in hand.

A breeze flowed across the battlefield as the shrine maiden bid the sound to return. Though she found comfort in the silence, Ayane would not let her words fall upon deaf ears.

“I won’t let you!–”

Ebony tears stained the wraith’s face as a second wind took over her. One by one, she reached out to grasp the duelist’s limbs. As the second strand coiled around his other leg, the wraith dragged Ladd’s body towards her. Though he kicked and bucked against her grasp, Ayane refused to let go. She looked him in the eye as she returned the hairpin to its rightful place.

“He gave that to me.”

The wraith heaved as she drove her claws through the duelist’s shoulders and raised him above her head. Ayane stumbled for a moment, her leg buckling under the weight, but through sheer force of will she held her ground.

"... It's all that I have left of him."

The duelist writhed in her grasp, desperate to break free as all four of her claws squeezed into his flesh. The wraith felt a hand slam against her cheek, but it did little but further infuriate the shrine maiden. She bit down with her teeth on the man’s fingers. Red mixed with black as the blood seeped through his gloves before Ayane spat his hand out.

The girl trembled as she pulled the duelist’s frame taut. Ayane cried out to the pyramids, to the very beings that ruled this domain as the wraith cast the duelist down towards the kith and the soldier..

“AND YOU WILL NOT TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME!”
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 19
2/7/2024 20:42:24   
markthematey
Member

The air floated still. Those words never escaped Ladd’s lips nor reached his ears. Each minute motion he made, from how his cape bellowed in the wind to the sound of sand washing against his heels went silent.

Even his heartbeat that would roar each pulse throughout his body fell on deaf ears. Each beat that commanded his movements, each beat that would scale with his enthusiasm, each beat could no longer be heard. Ladd felt an encroaching feeling overtake him.

hollow

Ladd looked at his hand, the blood it wiped away earlier was an ink that stained his ivory glove black. Beyond his hand stood his competitor who was also bleeding the same ebony he was. Yes the enemy, he needed to focus on them. He couldn’t fight back the stillness of the world around him.

empty

What was the purpose of wielding a blade without the passion of one's heart behind it? Ladd’s hand felt heavy. It was as if something alien weighed down his arm and the cool leather grip felt rough in his fingers. What he held was no longer an instrument for an art form he loved but a useless tool for the brutal murder of another.

The sickening eyes of the haunted maiden lapped up his inner turmoil and prepared to strike. She saw no glory in this duel, Ladd knew. She must have taken his heart away and if she wanted senseless murder to be the conclusion of this battle, he would not disappoint.

She lunged forward, gnarled claws extended but he would not give in so easily. Whisking the blade through the soundless sand, it erupted forth into a haze.

worthless[

Preparing to strike once more he hesitated. His body felt disjointed, it no longer moved in grace without the sound of his soul guiding it forward. Without the certainty of success, he faltered. Instead, he dove to the side entirely dodging the pounce.

As the dust settled, the corporeal geist seemed to recoil as if she was hit by something afar. He couldn’t hear any grunt of pain but the look on her face was enough. Regret bit into Ladd as he almost felt relieved he was given a moment to regroup himself. His body, mind, and heart felt separated but he could still move. He could still fight.

He pooled his essence into his hand, luckily it came to him naturally but its flow felt jagged.

His opponent still was recovering when Ladd approached once more. Now within lunging distance, he pointed his blade first towards her heart. As he extended forward, he quickly redirected the point downwards. The awkward movement made the attack weak and the point barely pierced her thigh.

Ladd’s palm pushed into the hilt of his blade and his essence flowed into it. Closing his grip tightly he shunted the spot on the hilt away from him causing the rapier to propel forward. Like a bullet, it went cleanly through her leg.

Ladd aggressively performed a remise, bringing his back foot up to his extended leg. Pushing off his back foot once more, he wrenched the blade forward so that the hilt was now facing her. As if he was drawing his sword, he tore it from its sheath of flesh and sinew striking the corpse-like maiden with its pummel in the head. Using the moment, he began a twirl to retreat backward but it was unneeded.

The horrific maiden’s mouth was ajar in a silent scream as she fell back.

Ladd stepped forward, he exhaled but the tightness in his chest didn’t leave. He pointed his sword at her neck. “This duel is over, admit defeat” he mouthed the words but they still didn’t carry through the wind.

futile

Ladd wished he felt triumphant but just like his words, the rhythm of his heart still was silent. No thrill, no exhilaration, he felt nothing.

His eyes looked down upon his defeated foe but instead of a look of resignment, he saw a raging fury that glared back. Ladd hated when foes refused to back down but he couldn’t announce his victory either.

pointless

Ladd needed to finish this as quickly as possible for he still had a withstanding duel waiting to be completed. Maybe that will remind his heart how to move. He was worse for wear now but a battle rarely found the participants in their best condition.

No words meant no proclamation of victory or no admittal of defeat. What would he do? Could a duel be finished in any other way? Could he just walk away only himself knowing that he won? No no no, that wouldn’t do…

pationless

This was no duel, this had no passion. A passionless death is what he would give her.

These thoughts swirled for a moment too long in Ladd’s head as he felt a vine tighten around his leg. Before he could react, he was staring at the sky as he hit the ground hard.
The air forced itself out of his lungs as sand poured into his eyes and mouth. He heard the sand washing over him, aggressively trying to reach the bottom of the pyramid. Despite his shock, his eyes widened slightly. He could hear his heart beating.

A guttural moan came from the creature above him, “I won’t let you!”

Ladd didn’t understand what she was going on about but he couldn’t help but smile. It was the sound of his pants rustling as he tried to escape the viny entrapment both legs were stuck in. It was the rough coughs that he couldn’t stop as he sucked in sand-infused air. But most of all it was the roaring of his heart begging for combat. All of these sounds filled his mind and soul.

“He gave that to me…” the geist continued. She seemed to be holding something in her hands but Ladd couldn’t determine what it was.

Ladd was almost willing to ignore the fact she defaced the duel by conducting such an attack after a request to surrender was given. It seemed foolish to ask it now that he could talk, even less so as fresh pain ripped through his shoulder as he was hoisted up from the ground. Large claws tore into them, the pain sharpened Ladd’s mind and connected it with his body and soul once more.

Effortlessly, energy pooled into his hand as he flailed it outwards. It connected with her face to little avail but the energy set into a small spot on her cheek. Before he could activate it, the maiden’s maw came down on his left hand. His bones snapped, causing Ladd to cry out in pain. Even in his battle-mind state, the pain broke through it, making him falter.

The being lifted Ladd further up, and with massive effort, she catapulted him forward. The wind bellowed past him and he was sent spiraling down the pyramid.

Post #: 20
2/8/2024 22:53:39   
Necro-Knight
Member

The dead creature curled over in pain as his released energy found its mark and for a split moment, Ryuk felt victory well in his chest and pull at the corner of his mouth. The monster, while resilient, was far from invincible. One simply needed to apply the right techniques. Even in this maddened realm where the dead walked and tailed women fought with swords, he appreciated that a significant application of force still provided results.

It would be a short while before his armor could attack with another radiation bolt in such a way, so he would need to devise a way to keep the creature occupied while it did.

His planning on this matter was violently interrupted as a burning pain erupted from his left hip and warning signals blared in his ears from within his helmet. Glowing scarlet blood coated the blade as it found purchase and had the visible signs across his HUD not been alerting him to the obvious breach in his armor, he’d have wondered how he could hear noise contained within his helmet, but not without. As every other combatant was accounted for ahead of him, he hissed in both pain and frustration at the tailed-woman’s sheer lack of honoring even the slightest moment of cooperation.

Even as he decided to turn to his right out of reflex and move his damaged hip away from the wretched woman, more movement caught his trained eye. The suited man had tried another attack on the dead thing and was not getting away as easily as the first time. The creature lifted him upside down with ease before burying him head-first into the sand. Waiting a moment, she lifted him up again, but not before he struck at its face,

As Ryuk figured, the blow did nothing besides provide the undead with an easy target. It closed monstrous jaws around the suited man’s hand and could Ryuk hear anything outside of his own ears, he assumed the air would’ve been filled with screams and the sound of breaking bones.

It made him pause with a concern for his mental wellbeing. Even as the corpse lifted the wounded man up and proceeded to launch him in Ryuk’s direction, he realized almost missed the sounds of breaking bones and wounded souls now that they were gone. This had been his life, his fulfilling purpose, for years now. Combat meant he was working, working meant he was making his city a better place, even that meant people had to get hurt. In the end, he was a soldier, an agent of the dark streets of Disivia. In the eyes of criminals, he was the thing that hunted them in dark alleys and from rooftops. Society’s morals sharpened into a lethal tool. If that made him broken, then so be it.

I will not die here to some animal crossbreed, a corporate stooge and a corpse.

Continuing the sharp spinning motion now of moving his body from left to right, Ryuk raised his arms and buried his fists into the white suit of the man as he was propelled towards the agent. As his motion turned him back towards the masked woman, he released the man, adding his own hydraulic force to the man’s unfortunate trajectory. If this woman wanted to play dirty, wanted to turn this into pure street warfare, that suited him. He’d tried to be civil, but clearly he was dealing with the same kind of scum as he always had.

Taking a few stumbling steps back, Ryuk reached down and pressed the still-smoking gauntlet of his left hand into the shattered plating of his armor. Hot metal met cleanly-cut flesh and he hissed again as the makeshift remedy hopefully cauterized the worst of the wound. His suit was unable to tell him how severe the wound was beyond the fact that it existed, but it didn't feel life-threatening, which was good. The corpse-thing was still present to his right flank and was likely still angry over the attack only moments ago. If she decided to strike at his back, he'd do his best to dismember her, as she deserved.

Come at me, then. You’ll find me a bit harder to chew than the corpo fool, monster…
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 21
2/9/2024 21:59:23   
Dragonknight315
Member

<Mokou...>

Ayane collapsed against the pyramid steps. Her chest ached as she tried to breathe. But instead of air, a cold emptiness filled the wraith’s lungs. The pain swept through her form, webs of small, agonizing pinpricks that pierced every inch of her dead flesh.

Ayane rolled herself over, convulsing as she seized her chest only to feel something cut against her flesh. The girl looked down to her hands, to her sin-stained claws and her torn robes, and she remembered.

<It’s all you have.>

Ayane shuttered as she felt the burdens writhing below her consciousness. A darkness crept from the corner of her eyes, parts of her vision blotted out until Ayane could see nothing but what they wanted her to see. She clutched her hairpiece, cold ink bleeding from her hands as she desperately tried to shut the voices out.

<Down there.>

Her gaze wrestled from her, Ayane spied the other combatants at the bottom of the pyramid. She couldn’t make out the finer details, grief and exhaustion clouding her mind....

Oh how Ayane wanted to simply rest.

<They did this to you.>

The wraith felt the ink thrashing in her veins. Ashen skulls bubbled up to her skin, a tapestry of death woven throughout the centuries. Their gaze was upon them: the trickster, the soldier, the duelist.

<They tried to kill you.>

“... That’s right.”

Ayane could not deny it– deny them. As their inky words bled into her thoughts, the boundary between them grew indistinguishable.

<Show yourself some mercy, Ayane, and finish them. Only then can you rest.>

“Only then...”

Vengeance clouded the girl’s heart, and the wraith slowly pulled herself to her feet.

“Only then–”

As Ayane’s voice sunk below the surface of her mind, a light scattered across the darkness, and the veil was lifted from her eyes for but a moment.

<... Fireworks?>

It was unmistakable. The sudden pop and the flash of light. Earlier, Ephemera had trembled from the experience. But Ayane?

Ayane hadn’t seen fireworks since she left the village.

<Ayane! Listen!>

As the voices attempted to encroach upon her soul, another voice reached out like a hand to save her from the deep. From all the possible places, it came from the kith.

“Stay strong, child of Chaos! Your pain, your turmoil, it gives you life! Fight for it!”

“You. Did. What?!”

The room trembled with silent thunder as Ayane raised her voice. Deep in the most sacred sanctum of the temple, she stood in the center of the room. To the side were the other shrine maidens. While they were the closest thing Ayane had to peers, she was nonetheless much older than them. The four priestesses sat with legs crossed on the ground, and though they remained absolutely silent, Ayane could see the fear and awe in their eyes. They were not her concern, however.

As Ayane stared at the headmistress, the elder seemed unphased. It was as if Ayane was arguing with a statue. Long white hair, wrinkled skin– age had closed off the woman’s heart. Ayane could see the numerous ashen marks that dotted her form, all signs of her experience and her sacrifices. Most maidens “expired” in their third decade, yet the headmistress stood firm on the steps to the altar.

“Watch your tone, Ayane.” The elder spoke, her words measured and without emotion. “Successor or not, I am still your superior, and I will not tolerate such disrespect.”

“Why?” Ayane shouted again as she talked past the elder. “Why did you send Mokou away?”

“You know exactly why.” The elder stared down at Ayane from on high.

Ayane gritted her teeth as she replied. “He was our most loyal of assistants!”

“Unimportant. He is easily replaced.”

“I beg to disagree.”

“Really?” The word was like venom in the headmistress’s lips. The elderly out a sigh and shook her head. “Have you no shame, Ayane? First you break your sacred vows. Then you shirk your responsibilities. And now for some time, you have stood in open defiance of the shrine. And it’s all because of him.”

Ayane bit her lip as her blood began to boil.

“He’s a liability. A threat. To you and everyone who lives in these lands...” She closed her eyes, and for a moment Ayane could sense the faintest hint of emotion on the elder’s face.

“You have shown much promise, Ayane. You have the potential to lead this shrine for generations to come. And so I will offer this chance only once. Forget him, Ayane, and return to the right path or suffer the consequences.”

<Forget him?>

Ayane went silent as the color drained from her face. Forget him? Forget Mokou? The only joy she had known in so many years?

<Never.>

Without another moment of hesitation, she gave her reply.

“... And if I refuse?”

The headmistress opened her grey, soulless eyes. “Refuse? Is that a threat, Ayane?”

“You’re the one making threats, Headmistress.”

“Please.” The elder scoffed at the girl’s remark. “You can’t refuse.”

“Except you’re wrong.” Ayane’s voice was clear. Determined. “I’m finished with you.”

Ayane felt a burden lift from her shoulders as the girl turned to leave. She took a step forward towards the exit. Towards her future with her love. This step was hers and hers alone, and no one would deny her.

If only it were that simple. After a moment of silence, the elder’s voice broke across the room.

“MAIDENS! APPREHEND HER!”

Ayane looked back over her shoulder to see the headmistress, but as she did one of the other maidens ran into her. Barely an adult, Ayane held her ground, but it bought the others time. One by one, they tackled her to the ground and pinned her in place.

“No! Let me go!”

Ayane kicked and screamed as she tried to wrestle herself free. She looked into the eyes of her peers turned assailants.

“Don’t you understand! This is what she’ll do to you!”

Her words could not reach the maidens however. Fear provoked discipline, and they would not ignore the words of their master.

“I gave you a chance, Ayane.”

The girl froze in horror as the elder came into view. She towered over Ayane’s body, a large coil of ceremonial rope in her hands.

“You should have listened...”

“... Fight for it.”

Ayane mouthed the words as took a step down the pyramid. Her whole body shook as she tried to hold her balance in the current of sand. With each step, she felt the voices close in.

<... Fight it.>

With each step, she felt her dead heart beating in her chest, pushing back back against them, seizing another moment for herself. But with each pulse, it grew weaker and weaker.

A battlefield without; a battlefield within– The wraith did not know what would come first, her surrender or her second death. The dark memories inside tried to wrestle control of her corpse. With one final push, she felt the weight of all the burdens falling upon her shoulders.

“... I just want to rest.”

Ayane made it halfway down the pyramid towards the others before she closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate.

<Please. If anyone’s listening...>
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 22
2/10/2024 22:46:04   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 Vale watches in satisfaction as her blade slices cleanly through her opponent’s hip, blood splaying across its dark metal. Flecks kiss her fingers with a sting. One more hit-- maybe two, before he’d be disabled enough for her to move on. Vale lets her blade’s momentum guide her arm and eyes, swinging upward to hover for a moment above her shoulder. Lavender eyes flick towards movement from further away and meet the panicked eyes of the grandiose, white-clad human. He flies quickly towards her, careening through the air. Vale blinks and steps aside from his trajectory, hoping he’ll hit her opponent.

Breath flees from Vale’s chest as the duelist’s body slams into hers. Her back hits the ground and they tumble over each other, spinning down the pyramid steps. She hadn’t been-- how-- her opponent must have thrown him! Vale feels the back of her head hit a corner, and a panicked growl escapes her lips. Sand flies up her nose, across her tongue. She flails her limbs, trying to stop her momentum, and her feet finally find purchase on a step a breath away from the pyramid’s base. She scrambles to stand, her world still spinning around her. Her cloak catches under her feet, and she rips it away, letting it fall to the pyramid’s base. Its secrecy was not worth it getting in her way. The duelist leaps to his feet beside her. He is significantly disheveled, his hat gone, his once-white suit covered in a sticky mess of sweat, sand, and blood. His shoulders bear deep gashes, similar to Vale’s, and one eye is forced shut by a mess of dark liquid. Poor soul. We’ll make this quick. She wouldn’t need much to incapacitate him; he was clearly close to that point already.

Eyes flare as they push their magic into the blade; the shadow cast from the pyramid flickers and bends around it, obscuring its tip. Vale swings the sword horizontal, guiding it with their stronger arm towards their target’s legs. His ankle catches on the tip of their blade as he leaps into the air. Satisfaction tickles at Vale’s lips, but as he leaves their vision, they catch sight of the tortured girl. She sits towards the top of the pyramid, hunched over, clawing at her own chest. This time, when Vale’s stomach clenches-- when their throat closes, and their eyes dart away from the girl-- they know it is their own Song, their own fear. The girl’s sinister visage oozes a malevolence that matches the strength of her Life-Song. But she is as complex and beautiful as any other, a beautiful ode to the Chaos of Life. The Chaos that Order is killing.

Vale may have spent her life watching the Lives of others flit by. But she would not watch this Life die.

Vale reaches into their pouch, pain shooting through their chest as the movement tears their open wound. Fingers wrap around two firework bulbs-- Vale neither knows nor cares whether they are light or sound-- and sharp nails scratch across them until they spark. Vale’s eyes do not leave the girl as they thrust the fireworks in front of them. The girl’s Life-Song swells around Vale, urgent, desperate; and Vale’s fingers let go of their sparking seeds as they thrust their mind towards

Ayane.

Vale’s ears flick wildly around her as voices say her name a thousand different ways. An old father, tired, warning. Ayane. A young lover, tender, secretive. Ayane. A harsh woman, loud, vile. AYANE. They surround her, pulling at her clothes, her mind, her claws, yanking her focus into a thousand tiny pieces. Her lungs seize; she must be crumbling, for there is no one person who can hold this much, she must--

Vale’s fangs dig into her lip. She must focus; This Song is not her own. Vale opens her mouth, reaching towards the girl who is crumbling. "Ayane!” This time, Vale tells no half-truths, makes no subtle tugs on her puppet strings. This time, Vale does not whisper. Vale screams.

"Stay strong, child of Chaos! Your pain, your turmoil, it gives you life! Fight for it!"

I am not here to watch Chaos fade— I am here to fight for it.

The magic’s fire flees from Vale’s eyes as piercing pain rips through her left shoulder blade. The duelist’s body crashes into her from above, driving his rapier deep into her shoulder. Vale’s body slams once, twice into the glass as he rips the blade from her skin. Sand floods her mouth, stifling her shriek. She reaches up to yank at the man’s clothes, but he lurches upwards and backs slowly away from her.

“Stand once more Vale, Protector of Life. Claim thy namesake and defend it.” His words echo his earlier grandiose stance, but as Vale watches him, she sees only a boy. Agony dulls her vision as Vale forces herself to rise and scramble for her blade, lost a few steps further down. Her muscles spasm as she forces her grip closed around it. Their Songs align; and though Vale focuses on his, she knows the exhaustion that burns her muscles is shared by them both.

“You fight against your very ability to live, human.” A baffling paradox-- he is all the more chaotic for it. Vale lets out a quiet chuckle that transitions into a pained whimper. A fire flares in her chest, and Vale is not sure whether it is hers or his.

“To fight is to live, fine lady.” The boy echoes her laugh, a last bit of warmth mustered up despite his pain. “Now, let us feel alive if not just a moment longer.”

She smiles. He is so simple; so precious. She brings both hands onto the grip of her sword and flicks the small latch hidden in its pommel. It clicks quietly, for only Vale to hear, and she feels the slight shift as one blade splits into two. One for his arm; one for his thigh. He should not dodge both. She nods, tail flicking as she readies herself. “To Life, then.” To its breathtaking Chaos.

Vale takes a shuddering breath, stills her tail, and charges.
Post #: 23
2/10/2024 22:46:24   
markthematey
Member

Soaring down the side of the pyramid, Ladd descended upon the other two competitors despite his chagrin at the situation. Each beat of his heart reinvigorated him, but the pain in his shoulders numbed the vigor.

As his fall almost reached an end, his back collided with something as hard as a rock. Ladd heard a crack reverberating through his body and static reverberated up his spine, giving way to fresh pain. He barely noticed as he was redirected in a new direction with even less control than before.

A few more seconds of sprawling flight before something broke his fall and he tumbled away. Ladd couldn’t count the steps he hit before catching himself. Ladd’s spine felt crooked and ached with each movement. How he wished he could lay there and let the sand wash over him. If he could simply become one with the vast desert, a soulless nothing that met all with an apathetic glare of heat.

Unfortunately, Ladd yearned for the thrill of combat. Ultimately unsatisfied with having neither of his duels finished. His body protested, but his heart and soul commanded otherwise. He forced himself from the ground, noticing that somewhere along his fall his hat whisked away and the wound over his eye began to bleed again.

Not bothering to wipe away the ink-blood fusion that half-blinded him, he locked eyes with his unfortunate cushion. Vale, as she announced herself earlier, was the unfortunate recipient of the projectile known as “Ladd.” At the very least, he ended up just in the right spot to finish one of his challenges.

Vale’s cape fell to the side, revealing a pair of fox-like ears that sprouted from the top of her head. They swiveled back aggressively and Ladd’s thoughts immediately responded in kind. He had no time for pleasantries, despite how much he wanted to. Once again, each extraneous thought vanished as Ladd reached a laser-point focus. His one good eye trained onto the competitor in front of him. It noticed how her body twisted, revealing an attack aimed at Ladd’s legs.

Pooling his energy into his feet, Ladd prepared against an upcoming strike. Vale swung her blade towards him. He attempted to hop back and forced the energy in one of his feet away while jumping. The extra energy from underneath propelled him upwards, the blade looking as if it was barely going to miss.

To Ladd’s surprise, the bite of pain cleaved into his ankle as her sword met its mark. Ladd’s eyes had betrayed him, to his surprise.

This time in a controlled flight, Ladd kicked up his back foot. Focusing his mind to the energy in his foot he forced it towards him. As he did so, he kicked off of it the spot changing his trajectory sharply. A crack of fireworks exploded behind him as gravity took control and he plummeted downwards.

He aimed the sword toward its unsuspecting target. The sword brimmed with energy as Ladd pushed some of his fleeting remains through it.

Ladd landed nearly on top of the warrior, his sword skewering through flesh. The entire wound was coated with his essence as the tip pierced deeper through her shoulder.

As the sword slowed to a stop, Ladd focused his mind on the essence that filled the wound and compelled it away. As he did so, he ripped the blade back, freeing it from her shoulder. Vale fell back harshly, howling in pain.

Ladd quickly pranced back a few paces. His foe on the ground, Ladd considered proclaiming his victory but stopped himself. This isn’t an ending that would satisfy him, not in the slightest. Ladd expected more from her.

“Stand once more Vale, Protector of Life. Claim thy namesake and defend it.” His voice maintained steady but his body lacked the same confidence.

He limped slightly on his ankle and attempted to begin a proper duelist bow. His body protested from the aching pain and blood loss. From the starting position, he flicked his blade from upright off to the side. It was the very least courtesy he could offer her as he felt the end of this battle coming. A twinkle of regret sparked in his chest.

He had felt this type of premonition moments before the end of a long battle. For him, it was more of an intuition than anything else. After they both finish their blade's next stroke, one would no longer stand.

“You fight against your very ability to live, human.” Vale lightly chuckled, quickly stunted by a groan of pain. She understood the irony in her words, but that was lost to Ladd.

The statement almost made him laugh, himself. Fight against his ability to? No no, these were the moments Ladd lived for. The time when his mind, soul, and heart all moved in harmony, a single goal commanding them together. For Ladd, there was only one moment where he truly lived.

“To fight is to live, fine lady.” Ladd chuckled, his heart and soul joined in agreement, “Now, let us feel alive if not just a moment longer.”

Ladd had always been the last one standing; today he was certain it would be no different. Ladd watched as Vale split her sword into two separate blades, another twist that Ladd wished he could experience further; but he knew that wouldn’t come to be.

A moment of serenity passed between the two. The desert wind and the brushing of sand were the only things that could be heard.

“To Life, then.” Despite the fact Vale had been wearing a mask, Ladd would have sworn he saw a smile on her lips. The words comforted Ladd's crying wounds and ignited his already blazing chest. Stealing this moment of brevity, he forced himself forward.

A single strike is all he would need. A strike through her chest and he would be crowned victor. Once again, his heart felt a pang of regret. To think his time with such an opponent would end so swiftly. Nonetheless, battle called; and Ladd had never denied its siren’s wail.

So he stood, rapier in hand, heart blazing for the thrill of dueling.

Post #: 24
2/11/2024 0:00:27   
  Chewy905

Chromatic ArchKnight of RP


 A gunshot shattered the roar of battle and the silence of the landscape. A bullet traced its wake, fired from a lost man’s rifle and piercing straight through the pyramid like a bolt of lightning. From its path burst a shockwave, violent as death, decimating the glass pyramid from top to bottom. No sound accompanied the shards fall; they simply tumbled to the sandy ground in peace as the sinkholes closed up and the desert was left a barren, featureless waste.

And then, nothing. Where there was once a soul’s monument now 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 parting shot of the gunman’s soul.

The Powers had chosen. The War had begun.

And the Sands stood still.

Post #: 25
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