((So... COH... Mortal Kombat style...))
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Light flashed, and a man in a hood and cowl appeared. He stood, and looked at his surroundings. A cave?
Burning Brawler raised his hand high and it lit with fire. He heard water up ahead. "Where the hell am I?" The only reply he received was his own echo.
The hero ventured forward, not sure what else to do. Something told him if he just moved on, he would be alright. As he went on, the sound of water became louder.
He turned, and suddenly there was light. The exit, concealed by a large waterfall. Seeing his chance at freedom, the hero rushed forward and leapt into the sunlight.
Burning looked at the land below him, a dark valley with fierce mountains on all sides. The valley was dotted with ant-like shapes.
Using the enhanced vision his magic-made eyes granted, he was soon able to make out the shapes.
Undead, hundreds.
---------------------
Gunfire rang through the forest. A man yelled in anger as a sword cut his shoulder. The Bruiser grabbed the Grave Knight's arm and tore it clean off, using it to beat the undead warrior down.
Mover and Shaker hid behind the trees, directing three others who were hiding in their branches. The two enforcers quickly leapt into view and unloaded their ammo, mowing down the zombies and their warrior leaders.
The Uniter stood boldly in front of them all, his personal force field mocking them as they hacked and bashed at it uselessly, merely making themselves easy targets for the hail of bullets and fire around them.
The villain stared up into the sky at a hazy object in the distance. Whatever was in there was his goal.
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
((I have been approved! <3))
There was darkness. Pure and invading, silent and suffocating, cold and devoid.
And she was drowning in it.
Why? Her single thought pierced the abyss around her, sending ripples of discontent forward, awakening the beast that had watched her slumber.
Cold, numbing cold assaulted her, and she screamed soundlessly, her voice caught in her non-existent throat, the pain and agony unable to escape.
This was her prison, her damnation, her curse.
There is no hope. No hope for one such as you. The cold voice answered mockingly, and she screamed again, this time her voice filled with anger as well as pain.
She knew of nothing, only the darkness. Only the darkness that had surrounded her all her life. Always alone, always abandoned, never loved, cared or needed. Tormented.
Dimly, she could sense herself reaching out; only to grasp nothing as her hand closed around darkness. She let out a choked sob, feeling the tears of ice roll down her face.
I didn't ask for this! Her mind cried out, I never wanted this...
The darkness answered her once more, the coldness in its voice as substantial as the void she resided in.
Too bad. And then it laughed, mirthlessly.
Haunting Amora awoke bathed in a cold sweat, her hand held above her, grasping the darkness that taunted her dreams. Still breathing harshly from the nightmare, she slowly lowerd her hand, and continued to stare into the night sky. The stars overhead twinkled weakly, and a sudden cloud enveloped the moon, casting Amora into a shadow. Shivering, she sat up, wiping her brow as she did.
The fire had died down as she slept, its embers barely emitting any light. Brushing her hand against it, she watched as it died off completely, a think trail of smoke drifting lazily between her fingers. Reaching down, she grasped a piece of charred wood, still warm from the fire. Breaking that piece into smaller ones, she watched as dark streaks were marred onto her hands. Shrugging, she wiped them on her face, expressionless as she did.
"Each night I wake," she said softly, "I become less and less human, but also so much more. Isn't that right?"
She suddenly turned her head up into the sky and laughed, the sudden burst of noise sending a flock of nesting crows high into the night sky, their cacophonic caws joining in with her laughter. Amora suddenly stopped, head tilted to the side as she watched ripples approaching her in the lake where she had slept.
As she watched, Amora could make out the approaching object as a man in a boat. Faint but steadily growing louder splashes of water from the strokes of the oars reached her ears. Curious, she watched as the figure steadily rowed, until he was a dozen feet from shore, where the boat suddenly came to a rest. The surface of the lake stilled, as well as the boat and its occupant.
Amora could see the figure perched in the boat, his dark robes obscuring most of his features. She could clearly see the scar that dominated half his face, marked easily as a burn, half his smile turned into a wicked grimace. A beady eye stared at her calmly, silver hair barely covering the other.
He remained silent.
And so did Amora.
Thw two continued to stare at each other, until the man finally gave in under her unblinking stare.
"Mistress Amora," he whispered, his voice distorted slightly from where he spoke, "My master knows of your plan to seek the Tower. He bades you abandon your attempt, for he fears that it will... worsen... your condition."
Amora continued to stare at him with her unblinking stare.
"Please... He bades you not." He shifted restlessly, his tongue smacking his lips nervously, "If you will not turn back, Lady, he will revoke his Protection upon you. Please..."
She stared at the man in a thoughtful manner, eyes half closed in her decision. Amora did not have to think about her judgement; she already knew what she had to do. Standing up slowly, she watched as the man's hands slowly crept behind his back, and she knew for a fact that he had weapons concealed. Smiling, she shrugged.
"I no longer need your master's protection." Taking a deep breath, she grinned, bearing sharp, almost fang like teeth at him, "The night has embraced me, and I will not turn away its call."
At those words, Amora's eyes lit up softly, enveloped in a pale blue glow that screamed of cold. Faint wisps of the similar cold dripped off of her, and followed towards the lake. Upon contact, ice formed, and continued to press onto the water. Horrified, the man in the boat hastily rowed back, eyes staring at her in horror.
"Flee, human. Amelia de Zhere no longer exists."
The aura continued to flow off of her until the man had completely vanished from her view, back across the lake. Shrugging, she let the energies flow back upon her, their numbing embrace giving her warmth. Yawning, she laid back down, her hands laced behind her head, her eyes staring once more into the night sky, unblinking.
"Tomorrow," she murmured to herself, "Is another day..."
((Edit: This is my character, Haunting Amora, whom I sadly deleted a while ago because I didn't like her powersets, and actually forgot to remake her. Oh well.
Anyways, Amora is supposed to be a little... unstable. A past event caused her to eventually lose her sanity, and the lure of the fortress in the middle of this domain has focused the remainder of her sanity to head towards it, either as her last resort for a cure, or perhaps a chance to seek ultimate power that she now craves for... time will tell!
))
Burning flew over the valley, whispering a spell of invisibilty. There was no way he wanted to fight everything down there. The spire in the distance, that was where he needed to be.
Suddenly, the hero felt his flight being slowed, as if someone were trying to interfere! He frantically fought to regain control. An arrow suddenly whizzed by his head. The sudden shock startled him into a fall.
The ground came rushing fast. Burning repeated the spell over and over again. It seemed all was lost.
And then a net shot out and caught him.
Burning rolled to the side and fell the last foot to ground. He laughed nervously as he came back to his senses. His laugh was soon broken however by hundreds of moans.
He looked up and noticed there was a very large crowd of zombies staring at him.
"[censored]..."
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
Experiment jumped backward, landing in a crouched position to break his fall from the roof.
Still hurt like hell though.
The Vhazilok minion that had attempted to vomit acid at him jumped down afterward.
Experiment himself almost puked at the science-zombie's legs broke inward, exploding out of the upper part of the Cadaver's head and shoulders.
After a few seconds of deep breathing, his PDA beeped successfully. He dusted his hands off, and grinned. "Finally! Beat twenty of those damned things... No more zombies for the rest of the week! Woo--"
A slight flash of light later, and he was barely able to stab a spine into a cliff wall. He glanced downward, and spotted an anthill.
Oh, no, nevermind, that was an ACTUAL hill.
Hey, then what are those hundred-or-so ants?
A lingering moan reached him from his hanging point, and his grin left his face. "...Hoo."
He slammed his other spine into the wall, detached his right, and looked down again.
there seemed to be a colour difference somewhere in the mob of moaners... Probably a dead guy. Although, the hood DID look familiar.
Hell, LOT'S of people wore hoods, it could be anyone...
...But 2.0's curiosity was peaked.
He pulled a rock from the side with his free hand, covered in mud, and threw it downward. It was not aimed very well, but that was why he continued picking them out.
"Hey, guy! You alive?" he called downward, throwing rocks at random hoping to either hit the spot of unique colour, or hit one of the zombies.
Colour spot, twenty bonus points. Zombies, one. C'mon, there are, like, enough to fill a mall in Willamete!
Burning spun quickly, removing the heat from the ground around him. The resulting patch of ice kept the zombies from getting in close, but they still had their acid vomit.
"I hate zombies sooooo much," the hero muttered as he raised his arms to the sky. He began speaking the words of a spell when he was interrupted by a rock slamming into the back of his head. "Ow! Damnit, what the-"
"Hey, guy! You alive?"
Burning began to open his mouth, but suddenly felt a surge of anger. Anger that wasn't his own.
Without thinking, the hero sent a blazing beam streaking towards the rock thrower before focusing back on the zombies, incinerating a few who had tried to slide across with a well-placed fireball.
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
Amora heard a small 'thud.' If she bothered to glance up, she would notice any animals around were bolting in panic. There was another thud, this time louder and causing the ground to tremble.
An Atrocity, one of the largest creatures in the strange world, was lumbering towards her. Similar to Adamastor, though nearly double his size, the undead monster was a walking terror.
Its jaw dropped, and an acidic fog spewed out, flying towards her and leaving a trail of blackened dirt in its wake. It was doubtful Amora could take this creature alone.
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
2.0 raised an eyebrow, pretty much recognizing the fireball instantly.
"Hey, Burning! What'cha doing he--"
The fireball struck the spine in the wall, causing it to disintegrate almost instantly. He gasped, hitting a large rock on the way down, bringing the armoured hero to his senses.
He spun, firing a spike into the wall, and grappling himself to it with an organic tendril. He gripped the wall, and looked down. He remembered Burning Brawler... Definately met him at Essie's birthday party, with the whole 24 hours to live deal...
...Didn't he know the fire/ice user from earlier, though?
...His memory was completely foggy... But an emotion of revenge seemed to push itself up from everything else. Burning and Essex were still associated here... Burning had apparently hurt the little pink android before...
Yeah, that's right! Thanks to an informant, 2.0 had found out that Burning Brawler had attacked Essex! That made perfect sense to the hero, especially since the birthday had now been completely wiped from his mind.
Then, that same reason was wiped, and simply had Revenge put back in place. Experiment 2.0 had to get vengeance on Burning Brawler.
Simple enough.
The hero pushed his feet into the wall, and detached his spine as he pushed. He leaped backward, jet-boots activated. He flew downward, spines outward in a spear-head attack. Once he assumed he had a good enough speed to not go sideways, he deactivated his left boot, sending him into a deadly spin.
Especially hurtful for Burning, should the twisting, poison-tipped spines hit him.
OOC: MOOORTAAAL KOOOOOMBAAAAAT!
BIC: "[censored]! Defendalass, cover the reactor! Those drones are hitting it hard!"
"I'm on it! Just get this big guy off me!"
"Guys! The reactor isn't looking too good! Push these damn aliens back!"
"I'm trying, I'm trying! But they just- urk!"
"RODGER! YOU [censored] BASTARDS! I'LL- gah!"
********************************************
"Resistance: Nullified," remarked a black armored Chief Soldier as he stabbed his warblade through the unmoving chest of a brawny, tights-wearing human.
The human reactor is almost destroyed, Warmaster, said the Chief Soldier's adjunct, a former Lost who still hadn't completely adjusted to thinking like a Rikti. His usefullness outweighed his problems with thought structure, however. Shall we place the explosives and retreat?
Affirmitive: Soldier Dal. Deply: Charges: Further defensive measures. Once deployed: Order retreat, replied Warmaster Chertak as he cleaned the blood of the metahuman off on the human's own tights.
Warmaster! came a panicked mental cry from outside. Attack: Freedom Phalanx: Statesman!
The warning came not a moment too soon as the big man himself came crashing through the door leading into the reactor, not even bothering to obtain one of the radiation shields from the machine in the hallway.
Little did Paragon City know that every now and then the Rikti, Sky Raiders, or Freakshow actually DID manage to win control of the Terra Volta reactor. This was generally kept a secret from the public as mass hysteria would result. Instead, when a group of heroes appeared to be failing, a message was sent out to the major supergroups for aid. Which ever hero was around generally suited up and went to the rescue, sometimes able to save the small group of heroes that had failed to prevent the take over.
This just happened to be the Rikti's unlucky day. Chertak's as well, for Statesman recognized the Warmaster for what he was and went for him first. Chertak brought his sword up to parry, his last image that of Statesman's face, twisted into a snarl behind his mask with his right fist pulled back to punch the living daylights out of the invading alien.
************************************************
Chertak came too to the sight of brown dirt and the sound of moaning. The Warmaster realized that he was crouching with one knee on the ground and his head hanging low, staring at the ground. He just noticed his hand as well, which also seemed to be pressing against the ground as though keeping him from falling over.
Mentally gathering control of himself, Chertak stood up in a smooth motion. His black armor reflected the pale light from the overcast sky above him as he looked in front of him.
"Classification: Undead: Zombies," Chertak said outloud. "Difficulty rating: Harmless."
As the mindless undead humans shuffled toward him, Chertak ignored them and looked past the horde at a massive spire stabbing out from what appeared to be a run-down human city. Lightning crackled around it, giving it a menacing air, but for some reason Chertak knew he was supposed to go there.
Looking around him, the Rikti saw that he was in a shallow valley just coming out of a huge mountain range. Directly ahead of him between his current position and the city was a swamp. It appeared to be only a kilometer in width, but even that much would make traveling through it as annoying as hell.
By this time, the first zombie had reached Chertak and made a clumsy slash with its gnarled hands. The Warmaster easily stepped to one side of the blow and slammed a punch into the zombie's head, hitting it so hard as to cause it to explode, peppering the other zombies with bits of blood and brain. As the corpse hit the ground, Chertak flexed his other hand, causing matching spikes to pop out of his knuckles and become charged with electricity.
The Rikti then waded in, trusting in his innate superiority and advanced armor to see him through safely as he punched a path through the horde.
OOC: Toy Dispenser coming in later in another post.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
Agent Crimson ran as fast as he could for the exit, dashing down the hallway at top speed. He had to get his files to the Longbow database.
And that...THING...was too powerful to fight.
He turned the corner...And nearly had his head impaled as a flash of silver which turned out to be a Katana barely missed him.
A figure, decked head to toe in nothing but rags stood.
Crimson didn't even try to fight, he just turned and ran again. Trying to find a differant route to the exit.
He heard the calm measured steps of the rag man following him. He glanced back to see the raggedy monster turn around the corner...
Then simply vanish into thin air.
Crimson continued to run, spiraling down corridors, taking stairwells...Then he found the exit! He was home free!
He made the dash down the hallway...
*slit*
He fell to the ground. He instantly tried to get back up, but only felt non-reponse from his feet, followed by an intense burst of pain. Looking back at his feet, he saw that his hamstrings had been severed, his blood pooling on the carpeting of the office.
The rag man, who had appeared from nowhere, calmly raised his sword to strike down Crimson...
Then simply vanished again.
Crimson blinked, waiting for the inevitable death blow.
It never came.
-----
Deep in the desert, a man stood.
A man dressed entirely in rags, head to toe, obscuring all of his features.
He was the Lord of that which was Worthless.
The Lord of Rags.
The sightless figure turned to a towering structure far off. He had no sight with which to see it, but felt a strange...pull.
The Lord of Rags strolled across the desert sands, heading for the tower.
*thud*
Amora opened her eyes instantly, the cloud of sleep in which she had been resting immediately receding. She continued to lie down, arms neatly grasped across her stomach, dark hair flowing out perfectly behind her head. Dark eyes stared into the slowly dawning sky, stars still visible, moon peeking over a low hanging cloud, as if observing the woman down below.
Sitting up suddenly, she ran her fingers through her hair, to loosen sand that had been caught in it the night before. Brushing her hair casually back, she watched expressionlessly as several deer ran across the lake, in their pursuit, a large grey wolf. Birds fluttered frantically overhead as well.
She calmly stretched, and kicked the campfire she had burnt yesterday night.
"Blarhghhh..."
Turning her head sharply to the left, Amora raised her eyebrows slightly as a large, rotting creature ambled towards her, its jaw dropping as bright green fog slipped out. Flowing towards her, she could see the acidic fog obliterating everything in its path... And her, if she chose not to move.
She did, however, leaping nimbly to one side, landing on a giant rock nearby. Staring at the large monster with another expressionless face, she snorted.
"What a nice way to start off today, huh?" She murmured, then laughed.
The Atrocity seemed to be satsified when it saw that the spot where Amora had been standing was now charred and dead, but when it heard her laughter, its glowing green eyes fixed upon her again, and it let out another hideous growl. Raising both its fists high into the air, it charged at her.
Amora leapt away once more, this time landing near the lake. Lifting both her hands into the air as well, a dark miasmic energy formed around, partially shrounding her from view. The dark energy flowed around her, both serving as a shield and offensive mechanism. She smiled lazily, no trace of human emotion evident within her.
"Cmon, big fella," she purred, "You know you want me." With those words, Amora took off into the air suddenly, as dark feathered wings sprung from the darkness she had summoned, allowing her to fly a little distance onto the lake. The Atrocity, full of fury now, followed her.
As it wadded into the lake, Amora allowed the dark energy to flow across the water. On first contact, ice began to form, and then slowly spread... The large monster was unaware of the ice encasing it until it could no longer move. Its arms reached out at her over and over, its eyes full of hatred as it realized what she had done. Amora giggled to herself, and flew out of its reach, taunting it.
She almost screamed as a glob of acidic-saliva hit her, barely managing to dodge it. Feeling its sting on her left wing, she hissed, and flew a bit farther out of its reach.
Well, she thought, I won't be able to destroy it... And I'm not exactly able to harm it, either... Amora shrugged, turned around, and flew away from the screaming Atrocity.
Her feet touched down on the earth once more, several hundred feet away from the monster. Its screams, now faint, continued to wail through the air. Shaking off the energy, her body once more took on a humanoid form, clothed in metallic black armour scored with burnt runes and sigils. Sighing, she brushed the leaves off, glancing up into her surrounding of trees as she did so.
"It'll probably get itself free in a while. I better head off, now." Turning once more in the direction of the Tower, Amora could make out the top of the fortress above the trees. Setting her eyes on the dark spirals, she started walking.
((I'm going to be posting how Amora came to this Pocket Dimension... Some other time!))
The last thing Dustin Simms remembered was falling asleep in his apartment. When he awoke in a lush forest, he knew something was amiss.
Standing, he examined himself. He had his jeans, his T-shirt... Hell, even his jacket and sunglasses. His war mace lay nearby on a patch of moss. As he grasped it, a withered hand shot out of the earth and grasped his wrist.
"Oh no you DON'T!" Dustin growled as he wrenched free and repeatedly slammed his weapon's head against the offending appendage.
The thing kept coming, but King Slater didn't stop until it did. A small mess of putrid flesh and bone lay on the ground when he finished, smashed into oblivion. Dustin sighed to himself and pulled his shades from the left breast pocket of hsi jacket. Donning them and slinging his mace on his shoulder, he got a better look at his surroundings.
He got a feeling, a pang in the front of his... mind? There was a buzzing sensation... It got worse when he turned a certain way, lessened in another.
Curious, Dustin slung the mace to his belt and climbed a nearby tree.
"What the Hell is going on?" he grunted as he climbed.
Finally, he broke to an opening in the foliage and could get an excellent view of what was in the direction away from the pain. A tower. It was the most prominent oddity and it was smack in the middle of hsi vision. He found himself overcome with a desire to make his way for it.
Shaking his head to clear it, he made his way back down the tree. It was strange, but now that he had a destination in mind, he could take better stock of his surroundings. He didn't even realise that the tree he'd climbed was one of the largest... White pine? One-two-three-four-five... Yep, it was the largest white pine he'd ever seen. It was like a sequoia...
Stranger still, this region of forest seemed to have all sorts of weird trees. He could recognize some black walnut, maple, oak... But then there were exotic trees that he'd never seen before...
"This looks like something out of a horror movie..."
Just as the words left his mouth and he was on the lowest branch of the tree, he saw the ground start to move. Swallowing a curse, he armed his mace and leapt down.
Wherever something broke through, he smashed it on his desperate run. He had no idea where he was going or why, he just knew his head didn't hurt, so he must be going the right way.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
((Just to clarify, zombies and Grave Knights without real names you can control as you wish. But anything from the Lich rank up I'll reply with myself.))
Burning heard the sound of rockets firing up. He turned to see a spinning spiky poison top of doom heading straight for him and did what came natural.
Duck.
This of course sent Experiment flying into the mass of zombies, likely spearing some of them and making an undead ball. A clawing, acid spitting, smelly ball.
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
(( Did that also count for the monster I fought? =P))
While the Lord of Rags may be blind, perhaps he could hear the sound of the sand rustled around him, but not from the wind.
The rustling became louder, and the sound around him began to spin, forming a cyclone pit that threatened to suck him in.
----------
As Dustin ran, several zombies turned their heads and moaned at him, giving chase a little bit faster than your garden variety undead.
As he reached a clearing, two Grave Knights stood in his path. They wielded two swords which were both drawn and ready to spear him.
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
The Lord of Rags was blind, deaf, mute, and unfeeling. He had no sensorary forms of actually detecting the world around him. He operated entirely by unknown methods. How he perceived the world about him was entirely unknown.
He apparently didn't perceive the sand pit. He continued walking forward, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being pulled backwards and downwards.
He then vanished beneath the sands.
A few moments passed, in which nothing moved but the swirling sands.
Then, a few dozen yards AHEAD of the swirling pit, the ground literally exploded. Hundreds, THOUSANDS of tiny black objects burst forth from the sands.
They were torn and tattered bits of cloth. Rags.
These all scattered about in the air, twirling to and fro...
Then suddenly, the small storm of rags imploded into one single point.
The Lord of Rags stood, not the worse for wear, and continued to walk towards the tower as if nothing had happened.
The pit continued its twirling, but it was now up to something new...
It began to move.
Just before it reached the Lord of Rags, a large creature that could only be described as a Sand Worm sprung up from the pits center.
It reared back, then rose, descending over Rags to engulf him.
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
((Is the sand worm something I can control, or does it qualify as "Lich level or higher?"))
((Yes to Sef and Diov. 
))
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
Dustin could almost hear the Kill Bill Vol. 1 soundtrack playing in his head...
Gripping the mace with both hands and bringing it to his right shoulder like a baseball bat, he tensed. His being understood the call, and stone armor started to grow from the earth and wrap its way around his body.
The unusual undead knights(?) shambled forward, and King Slater wound up taking a strike to the left shoulder from one of their ancient blades. Fortunately, the weapon skittered along the rock armor, and Dustin retaliated with a hard swing to the zombie's midsection, smashing a gaping hole into its torso, but otherwise doing little else.
The other zombie knight carved into his back. Dustin felt it that time, but his armor did a terrific job to minimize the damage. Releasing with his left hand, the stone tanker delivered an arcing attack that blew through the rest of the other knight's torso, splitting it "in half" and smashing into the other, knocking it backwards.
Taking a few steps back, Dustin noticed the other undead rapidly approaching. One projectile vomited at him, but the puke came up short.
"Dammit, what the Hell got me into this!?"
Smashing the mace into the head of the still moving "half" of the first zombie knight, Dustin turned to the approaching horde. Three for now, but there were more beyond. He had to do this right...
As the three approached almost as a wall, Slater lashed at their knees. He was rewarded by snapping and crunching, and the corpses collapsed like playing card houses. He didn't smash into their heads, however. He left them in the path, to further stumble the rest of the oncoming horde. It would buy him little time, but it just might be enough...
He turned back to run, but the other undead knight was on its feet again and it stabbed into his stomach. Dustin's skin was hard as stone, but it wasn't enough to hold back the oncoming assault. He felt the rusty blade slide in, and he could feel a kind of choking sensation.
Angry, Dustin scrashed ((Thank you Lewis Carroll for making words like this; (Scrash=slam+crash) this is an attack that's clumsy, yet devastating if it connects)) the weapon through the zombie's head. It collapsed and dragged the weapon back out of the lost hero's torso.
Dustin staggered through the clearing, coughing and wheezing. Collapsing to the ground, he gritted his teeth.
"Grr... NO! I can't die here! Not like this!"
The earth answered his cry with a sudden upsurge. The ground seemed to explode, and the warrior was surrounded by a tornado of dirt and stones. Green light emanated from it and suddenly, Dustin's wounds started to close up. In fact, he was feeling better than before. Invigorated, he briefly considered going back and killing the undead headed his way.
A ravening, moaning horde of nearly fifty zombies was making its way through the forest toward him. The nearest group was the largest, numbering around fifteen strong, and jsut barreling over the minor barrier he had left in their way.
"[censored] that!" he shouted and started sprinting in the opposite direction, vomit splattering and hissing behind him.
Once again, he was on his way to the tower, but he feared he had fewer options at his disposal...
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
"OH SWEET JEBUS!" the spinning, spikey hero yelled at the top of his voice, pulling himself upward. However, still only one jet was active.
He began twirling in the air, zombies dropping from their places on the spines, and hitting a few of their brethren. He finally activated his boot-jets again, and ripping his arms in different directions, thereby ripping the last remaining zombie in half. He glared down at Burning again, ready to attack, only to find his spines broken in half.
He growled, releasing the spine-stumps. Sharp points took their place, and he frowned. "I hate zombies... So stiff... Always breaking these things..."
Before Experiment could begin a rant on what sucks about zombies, a fireball was whizzing towards his head. "You're not going any further!" shouted Burning.
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
((Okay, seeing how this is BL's Revenge revived, I suppose I'm pretty much obligated to join. 
Not that I'm not doing this of my own free will, of course, and...SLUDGE, gimme back that script...!))
--------------------
Fire burned.
All across the city, fire burned.
The urban center lay devastated, kilometer-high towers standing as nothing but black, lightless monoliths amid a backdrop of rising orange cinders, super-heated air distorting their forms in slowly ascending waves. Some still stood level, but others leaned precariously over the desolate land.
Thick black smoke choked the air and scarred the sky, the fire belching more and more of it into the atmosphere by the second, consuming all in its wake.
Few and far between, from bridges spanning the chasms between the dark towers, some collapsed, others still intact, echoed the tell-tale reports of energy weaponry.
Craters littered what resembled streets below. A scene of merciless warfare presented itself.
Near a large gorge that ended in the wreckage of the front half of a starfighter, there lay something that resembled a child's doll.
An eye torn from the smiling face, it wasn't of a human, but had clearly been cherished with the love of a child before.
Hot wind washed across the fabric, the patch of cinders the draft carried setting the toy alight. Fire slowly took its toll, and the smile burned away.
But it wasn't over yet...
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At the top of a tower stood eye to eye what appeared to be a man and a monster.
The man stood tall and slim, covered from head to toe in close-fit powered armor. The gray material carried a deep-blue assassin pattern, though it had been charred in several places. A large-barreled weapon rested in his hands, its target obvious.
The monster crouched low, its massive head just above the roof. Roughly the size of an F-14, it distantly resembled a dragon of legend. Its frame was thin, and arms, legs, neck and tail all following the scheme of long and slender. Two pupil-less orange eyes in the Pterodactyl-like skull fixed intently upon the man, a pair of great wings of orange energy rising above the pitch-black body.
"No further." stated the man coldly, eyes narrowing behind his helmet's visor, "I'm taking you down."
A soundless voice echoed back in his head.
Not now, not ever. You may have me cornered, but I'll always have something you'll never have.
"And what would be?" sneered the man.
A crack echoed through the air as a massive vortex of light flared into being at the edge of the roof - a portal.
"An escape gate?" the man's weapon clicked as he raised it to eye level, "I'm not giving you the chance."
Wrong! A friend!
--------------------
A heavy black boot stepped from the light gate.
A long, dark, rifle-like weapon took aim.
The man's eyes grew wide under the visor, his voice a whisper.
"Acid..."
The man turned too late. A sound of thunder tore through the air, and a bright-yellow detonation blew him over like a leaf in the wind.
Wielding the long weapon was a clawed hand covered in leathery, green hide, five fingers firmly grasping the hilt in side-turned pistol fashion at the end of an outstretched arm.
The arm belonged to a vaguely humanoid creature with two of the same, two legs and a long, flexible tail. The head resembled that of a velociraptor.
Clad in a night-black jacket and pants of the same hue, a white T-shirt visible under the open coat, the creature fired once more without a word as the man attempted to get up again.
"No buts." Acid declared, not taking his eyes off the man, "Get in that gate now. Yes. If necessary, that's an order."
I'm not leaving you here with him!
"I'll be right behind you." Acid fired again, "I promise."
Finally, the monster moved, lumbering towards the gateway.
"No!" roared the man.
A plasma grenade tore the roof apart, flinging the monster into the portal and Acid off the tower.
He took of running, rushing after his monster.
Ahead, the air suddenly exploded as a body came out of teleportation, violently pushing the air out of the way. Acid was in the man's way once more.
A sword of fire rammed into Acid's weapon with unbridled ferocity. The reptilian's eyes grew wide as the man rammed him out of the way and o the ground.
The fire sword vanished again as the portal took the monster. Gritting his teeth, the man leaped after it, come what may.
As Acid rose, the portal suddenly disappeared.
A detail broke through - it had no longer been white...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Peregrine Island. A small island off the coast of Paragon City where the corporation known as Portal Corp kept it's main research facilities, as well as the giant extra-dimensional portals that made them famous. Patrolled extensively by both high level heroes and some of the city's most feared villain groups, Peregrine Island was a place where things happened, things that could make or break the world.
What was occuring now, a running battle through the streets between a group of 'Destined Ones' and heroes, was not one of these major events. Rather, it was small and rather petty-minded, enacted for little more than wish of a quick buck.
The plan had been simple. Get Arachnos assistance, hire some mercenaries, and raid Peregrine Island's bank. Running into heroes was an assurance, but the mastermind behind the scheme was positive that a small group of experienced and powerful people could get in and get out with maximum reward and minimum fuss.
That was his first mistake.
Almost immidiately after the Arachnos flier dropped the group of villains off, it took flight and fled the scene. Hurled insults and bolts of energy did little to halt its retreat. Swift interrogation along the way to the bank revealed that one of the group's members was disliked by Arachnos, something she had kept secret when she had been hired. Regardless, the mastermind pressed on with the plan, figuring that they could always fight they're way out to a boat.
That was his second mistake.
The bank was knocked over within minutes, the vault nearly completely emptied by an extra-dimensional pocket device the mastermind had brought along for this reason. The group even took down Sister Psyche in a relatively quick fashion, surprising the psychic hero with pre-prepared mind shields. Flush with success, the mastermind altered his plans somewhat and suggested that they go and take down some more heroes to teach Paragon not to mess with evil.
That was his third mistake.
He should have known that so many heroes would flock to this assault on the city, should have bailed the moment he saw Arachnos pull out, shouldn't have assumed he could get away with it in the first place.
Initial counts showed at least ten super powered beings closing on the bank, hot on the heels of Sister Psyche's defeat. Knowing they were outmatched, the group fled toward Portal Corp, the only direction the heroes weren't coming from. As they ran, not only did the heroes hound their steps but even the villain groups that inhabited Paragon took potshots at the group as though trying to tell them to keep off their turf.
Two of their number fell before they reached the entrance to Portal Corp and busted their way in. Panicked and afraid, the mastermind captured a scientist and ordered the man to start up one of the portals. Figuring that if they were sent to a friendly dimension, the group could pose as ambassadors or explorers long enough to get access to the other dimension's portal technology and escape back to a safer part of their home dimension, 'Primal Earth'.
That was his last mistake.
The scientist, his family having been killed by villains much like these years ago, changed the portal coordinates to a dimension where the Devouring Earth had conquered the planet, exterminating all human life in the process. The only villain that might have understood the portal technology had fallen in the escape and so it was that the mastermind and his group rushed through the swirling gate, appearing in the middle of a horde of tree monsters sunning themselves.
In the ensuing fight for their lives, the group of doomed villains didn't notice that one of their own was missing. They probably wouldn't have cared much anyway, as they were all dead within five minutes of arrival.
************************************************
"I don't think we're in Kansas any more, boss," Mini Bot said as it looked around at the dank and gloomy forest the group of robots had appeared in.
"Not even close," Toy Dispenser said as he sat still, waiting for Large Toy to finish fixing a gaping hole in his chest plating. "I'm not getting any radio transmissions or ait traffic of any kind, for that matter."
"It appears that Dr. Brunson lied," stated Toy Bot from where it leaned up against a tree, damage to it's rear legs necesitating some assitance to remain standing.
"Seems like," Toy said with a heavy sigh. "Well, now we just need to figure out how the hell to get back home."
"Looks like that dark, gloomy, forbidden tower might have something to do with it," muttered Block Bot as it pointed through a gap in the canopy at a giant tower in the distance.
"At the least we can force whoever's there to answer some questions," Combat Toy growled, still angry that Toy hadn't let them turn and fight the heroes from before.
Suddenly Toy's head shot up and looked off to the left.
"Looks like we've got company," he said. "Small Toy's found someone. And he's being chased by zombies."
"Rescue time?" asked Mini Bot.
"Damn right," Toy said as he stood up, brushing Large Toy off. "Standard deployment and keep an eye on the living guy, we don't know how he'll react to us."
"If he's hostile, I'll take him apart like another zombie," Combat Toy said, already moving through the trees toward Small Toy.
"Right," Toy said as he and the rest of the bots moved out, keeping pace with the modified assault bot.
**********************************************
With a sharp crack, one of the larger zombies chasing King Slater was suddenly short a head as a purple beam sheared through the thing and caused it to explode. Small Toy's cloaking field shut off at that moment, enough power drained for the high powered beam rifle shot that the matrix was forced to deactivate itself or risk overload.
The pale grey battle drone lying prone about fifty feet ahead of King Slater adjusted its aim, waited for the beam rifle to recycle, and fired another shot, taking another zombie out of the pack chasing the hero. Glowing red optics whirred lightly as they shifted and tracked all the oncoming targets.
Until the others arrived, Small Toy would make sure none of the zombies touched the hero.
OOC: lol, Toy. Chertak coming up next.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
No one can know my suffering...
There was a flash of fire, the crack of a whip, a cry of pain, and then silence.
No one else could know the torment I have been put through.
A figure lay tied to a stone slab, its back exposed. The flesh was hardly recognizable as such, the many lashes and burns disfiguring it.
But they will soon learn. Oh yes... soon.
The whip struck once more, and a scream of complete agony twisted and turned into a hysterical laugh of utter madness.
------------
The Longbow commander ran through the smoke that filled the hall. His base was being torn apart all around him by his own defenses!
He had to reach the control room, had to stop whoever was causing all of this chaos before the base was lost.
A Paragon Police Department Mech raced around the corner. The commander's eyes went wide as it raised its blaster cannon and fired.
The man collasped, his flesh badly burnt, his pain unbearable. The feeling of a sword, its color like that of blood, driving through his skull was almost a relief. The assassin bent over the dead man, taking a piece of paper from his fist. He had what he needed now. Soon...
---------------
Nicti energies shot down the hall, taking down the Malta agents left and right. A large creature teleported toward their leader, and swiftly wrapped a fist around his head.
As bullets slammed into its hard shell, the creature squeezed, a dark glow emanating from its hand. The commander kicked and struggled, panic gripping him as he felt his life being drained away until all was dark.
The creature dropped the dead man to the floor, his skin pressed against his bones, giving him a skeletal appearance. One of the men cried out in anger, taking out a detonator that was surely meant to bring down the base.
But the knowledge the commander had held in his head was exactly what the creature had been looking for. He teleported away as the building erupted in flames, moving on to the next step. It would come soon...
------------------
A figure faded into the darkness as an Arachnos agent passed by. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickly moved on. He could hear the computer network just ahead, the largest one the supervillain organization had yet.
Slipping past the guards, the figure made it to the console. He typed in the commands quickly and didn't realize he was being watched.
He heard the sudden sound of a mace being drawn and quickly whirled around.
The figure leapt up as it fired. The blast flew under him and struck the console, fortunately not damaging it. The boy lurched forward, tackling the Arachnos soldier.
He pinned both arms against the man's chest and delivered a quick blow to his face. A sickening crack echoed through the room, alerting others to the infiltrator's presence.
In the blink of an eyes, ten more Arachnos operatives had their weapons drawn. The boy cursed and quickly flew up as they fired.
He twisted in the air, avoiding the majority of the shots and hissing as two struck him in the side.
He dropped back down, breaking his fall with a roll. The boy came out of the roll with a double-fisted strike that sent the first agent to the floor.
The infiltrator rolled to the side, wrapping both his legs around one of another operative's and twisted, sending the larger man spinning into a shot delivered by one of his comrades.
The figure leapt to his feet and kicked off the ground, rocketing towards another who was caught off guard and sent sprawling. A man came in close, swinging his mace, but the figure ducked and delivered a quick blow that caught the man under his jaw.
As the man fell, the figure ran back to the console. More shouts were coming as the remaining operatives alerted the others. His fingers moved fast, and soon a list of names was being printed. He had it!
The sound of boots running towards him made him look down the hall. He quickly ripped the list off the printer. The operatives slowed as they ran past the computer. Whoever had broken in was gone now. They would scour the base nonetheless.
Outside, the boy grinned in satisfaction. He had them now. It was only a matter of time. Soon...
--------------------
Power. Power is infinite and unlimited. But sometimes power can consume.
And sometimes the consuming power is sentient.
Such as the substance known as The Muck, who lured a pathetic, hopeless prisoner to his doom deep in the sewers beneath The Ziggurat on the night Arachnos first destroyed the prison.
And now, little over a year later, The Muck had finally returned to its height of power. But in the course of that year it had met many creatures, creatures who knew how to exploit weaknesses from its weaker time. They could not be allowed to remain.
Blightlord paced down the hall. It would take aid. Aid of others who sought vengeance just as much as he had. To begin, past allies would need to be brought back to his service. Only then would he have the numbers.
But a playing field must also be set. No, he could not battle them here. In this would, they could be almost as strong as he was. And once they band together, who knows the dangers they could pose?
The Pocket Dimension would be their battleground.
Liches raised their arms as they completed the necessary spell. There was a flash of darkness, and the portal opened. Inside, screams of agony, cries of victory, and the silence of death could be heard as it all blended into one melodic tune.
Chaos.
Blightlord stepped inside. This would be it. After this, The Muck's supremacy over all of Paragon City and The Rogue Isles would be complete, and the world would fall soon after.
This was it. This was the Grand Finale.
((Welcome, players. The stage is set, and the battle to determine the fate of the world as we know it is about to commence.
Blightlord's Pocket Dimension is a seemingly massive space. In it, there are many vast forms of terrain from dark forests to unforgiving deserts and from vast wastelands to terrifying graveyards. And in the center of all this is a massive city, its skyline dominated by a fortress that can be seen even from the furthest regions of the dimension. Something about this place calls beings to it, though none truly know why from the beginning.
You will begin at a location of your own choosing as long as it is of significant distance to the tower. No one should start outside the city walls, for this thread would be over all too soon, and plans to 'entertain' you would be completely bypassed.
Also, no means of large travel will be possible by the 'players.' No world-crossing teleportation or large ships that can speed across the landscape. Magics within the Pocket Dimension have made them limited.
Others will be moving towards the tower, and you will likely encounter them. You cannot tell why, but you have the supreme urge to harm them, and badly. You wish to see them as life drains from their eyes. Only the more powerful and more intelligent will overcome this bloodlust and perhaps even form alliances to ensure their success.
As you make your way to the tower, undead monstrosities will attempt to stop you, as well as villains Blightlord has summoned to aid him.
Though none of you know what is within the tower, you all are sure that whatever it is will be powerful, and that it is your only chance at freedom. Question is, will you help to destroy it, or side with the malevolence?
Standard rules apply. No God-moding, no auto-controlling, no claiming hits without giving the others a chance to respond. Send me a Private Message to join this great battle. A post from me will be coming soon to show how to begin.
This will remain open until I believe we have reached a good point to close the thread.
Good luck.))
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell