A flash tore through Siren's Call, spitting out a lone woman onto the rubble. She struggled to stand, legs feeling weak. The air here felt wrong on some fundamental level that was hard to place. It almost reminded her of the camps of a certain inferior, green-skinned race. The teleportation had left her weak, groggy, and if it weren't for the rigorous life she had led, the woman might have succumb to the urge to pour sickness on the ground.
Still wobbly, she staggered toward a dark alley, sure the flare of light must have attracted attention. Until she knew what this world contained, for surely this was a place unlike her own, it was wise to remain out of site. Her gaze passed over the War Walls, then dismissed them as unimportant. Few things could compare to the sights one witnessed in the Inevitable City. In their horror or their tendency to cling to the mind.
As she entered the alley, the woman noticed the distinct sound of two men's voices. It was hard to describe how, but she immediately knew the language, understood every word. To her best guess, it seemed they were gambling.
Their dress was strange, but the grit that seemed to surround them seemed almost familiar. "Servants of Chaos, I require aid," she said, chin held high.
The two men looked up at her silhoutte and chuckled. "Aw, sweetness you shouldn'ta come 'round here, hehe." He popped a switchblade, stalking forward. "Why don't you join our little game, huh? We were just about to play a round of strip dice, it's real easy... I'll teach ya."
He didn't get much further. The man found himself frozen solid, his expression one of shock and his knife caught halfway to the ground. His friend gasped, staggering back. He quickly turned tail, making for the other end of the alley. Another shot of ice froze his feet, sending him falling on his face, his ankles snapping with a sickening crack that echoed through the alley.
His screams of pain mixed with pleas for mercy, promises of hidden wealth, information, a place of power. She stepped into the light then, the glow of the alleyway playing across ebon skin, highlighting cruel, angular features. Lips colored with black lipstick twisted into a cruel smile at the screams. Black and purple leather that hardly seemed enough cover yet hid all the right places contrasted the shine of her skin, and the tails of the leather that came down in front and back flowed behind her.
An outstretched arm attatched to a delicate hand waited as a staff appeared, its top twisted sinisterly, sharply. The Dark Elf, for that was surely what she was, pointed ears and all, began to walk forward. A dainty finger pressed ever so lightly on the icicle of the first warrior. She didn't even watch as it toppled over, breaking into dozens of unrecognizable pieces. She placed it on top of his neck as the man forced his sobs to be more queited. "You will tell me everything..."
Almost an hour later, she emerged from the alley, a severed head clutched in her hand, its eyes wide and mouth gaping. She found the nearest fire escape, climbing it with one hand grasping the hair, letting the head dangle and clang against the iron bars. Atop the roof she found a television antennae, and smiled.
The head oozed more fluids as she roughly twisted it onto this make-shift pike, its dead stare aimed toward the more clean side of Siren's Call, towards Paragon City. "Tremble, both Paragon and Rogue Isles, for Chilldra has made her first mark upon your world."
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
((As always, critiques over either post appreciated))
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
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!
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.
((Eloquent as always. 
))
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
OOC:
Good as always Brawler, but this thing almost looks like a confession to me. Like you have been playing WoW instead of CoX recently. *If so, you are a filthy, FILTHY heretic and are dead to me*
I mean, seriously. Dark elves? Not to stomp on your parade, but I honestly mean it when I say that Dark elves break the suspension of disbelief when it comes to CoX. And we are talking about CoX here. Perhaps its just me and my tastes, in which case I would advise you t disregard my ramblings and ask somebody who knows EXACTLY what to say in a way that is constructive and not destructive towards your creative process and reasoning.
Please, I tried WoW a few years ago, no interest in touching that one again. This is actually a character from Warhammer I'm bringing over. (And if we can have fairy queens, why can't I have a Dark Elf, I saw my 40th Drizzizzity23431 DualBlades/Reflexes Scrapper the other day after all)
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
"It seems that we were fated to meet again, no matter where you hid."
A swift fireball silenced any further talking, forcing the rotted figure to take cover behind a broken down siege weapon.
"This is the end of the line for you, Blightlord, or whatever you're calling yourself here. Come out, you coward!" The Archmage held another fireball at the ready. "You don't have any other options."
"You forget, this is a battlefield." The ground began to shake. "Plenty of willing aid at my fingertips." A skeletal hand shot up from the ground, followed by another with a little more meat to its half-picked bones. Nearly a dozen stood, all of different shapes; humanoid, but almost seeming deformed to one unused to the land's inhabitants.
Just then a woman leapt from high above, both feet crashing down on top of one particularly large, sturdy skeleton. She turned to kick the head clean off a zombie, its formerly ebon skin nearly black from the decay. "You didn't think I'd miss this?"
"Did you bring your entire family along? How willingly you risk their lives!" A rounded vial flew through the air. Just as it was about to crash on the ground, she rolled clear of the green mists it let loose.
"I take my own risks," she said, using a particularly short zombie to leap into a flying tackle for the necromancer. She changed angle, leading with her foot instead just in time for a particularly large, green creature to grab her leg clear from the air, using her own momentum to swing her to the ground.
"You never were particularly intelligent, Danica. Much like my new acquintance. Dispose of her, while I get the wizard."
The orc nodded with a big, yellow grin as he hoisted her to eye level with his sharp teeth, a crude sword in hand. "Meet me choppa!"
Danica delivered a swift strike to his neck with the edge of her hand, sending a numb feeling all down the orc's body. The warrior rolled gracefully to her feet. "That was mine," she muttered, kicking his twitching form. He wouldn't feel it, but when did that matter? It would still smart when he came to in a moment.
"But where's the girl? Did she not make it? Or your son?" taunted Blightlord in between volleys of toxins. "Well I suppose if he had, the boy would be with me wouldn't he?"
Blightlord had to pull a corpse in front of him to absorb the shock the next blast that came his way, the zombie moaningly horridly as it staggered away, aflame. The necromancer held out his arm, and from beneath the robes he wore a sword descended, seeming liquid and first but quickly hardening into a wicked blade.
The Archmage pulled back his hood, revealing a blackened face with glowing red eyes bright as fire. He swept his arm, a sword of flame forming as if he caught it from the air. The two met, blades held close. The flames seared Blightlord's skin just as the poison dripping from the twisted blade's wicked edge sizzled when it made contact with the sleeve of Burning Brawler's own green robe.
The two quickly stepped away, one hand grasping a sword, the other ready for some other trick. Meanwhile Danica was beginning to grow frustrated as more undead seemed to rise around her. It was obvious who chose the site for this battle.
Burning forward, the sword morphing into another fireball that streaked toward Blightlord. The master of death pointed the tip of his blade, firing a stream of darkness tinged with a murky filth. The two forces met, creating an explosion that fouled the air and shook the ground.
Hours later, a pack of orcs accompanied by a pair of Dark Elves would wander to this spot, trying to piece together as a raven flew back to report to its master. They would fight the High Elves and Dwarves that would come to see what the trouble was while a scout of the Empire surveyed the scene before the battle wiped all trace of what had happened.
But when the reports were made of the disappearance of the powerful figures, executions for incompetence and reprimands for failure were the only result.
---------------------
Burning Brawler shook his head clear of the dizziness he'd assosciated with these unplanned jumps. He turned to see Danica standing at the edge of a pile of rubble, one he hoped their arrival hadn't caused.
He looked where she had been staring, and for the first time in what seemed ages, a smile tugged at his lips.
------------------------
Blightlord stood tall among the bustling crowds. He glanced at their attire, seeming Greek or perhaps Roman in nature. As always after one of these jumps, he reached out to see what was accessible to him. With a chuckle of satisfaction, he called forth a pool of darkness. A Lich rose, accompanied by two undead Knights, each with a pair of blades at their hips and a shield strapped to their backs.
"Well, that is somewhat better," said Grime, flexing skeletal fingers. "It feels as if we were trapped for some time. How many more of these damnable jumps through the universes will we suffer, not knowing if we can even be summoned to their plane?"
"I do believe we have seen the last of our strange travels," said Blightlord, his chuckle growing fuller.
"From what I see, my lord, we've merely stumbled back in time, instead of across space."
"Oh no, my dear Grime." Blightlord gestured toward the sky, where a caped hero flew high above. All over the sky, heroes and villains flew with seemingly common purpose. For the most part. "I do believe we are finally home."
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