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Lucent The Undreaming


Joined: 10 Apr 2005 Posts: 885 Total Words: 388,792
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Posted: Mon, June 12, 2006 12:44 AM
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The Anatomy of Perfection - II - Stray
A knock came from the doorway leading into Sinister's booth, he could see Lust standing outside, her visor hung around her neck and a young man with dark blue hair standing next to her. Sinister waved her in, the door sliding open with the faintest brush of his telekinesis. "A guest." Sinister says in his low and metallic voice as Lust steps through the threshhold, sitting down on the plush bench seat, sliding down towards the window and gesturing for the young man to join her.
"Sinister, I presume?" The blue-haired man looked around the room, a luxurious private booth within a reserved boxcar. The exterior of this train, as he had approached from the outside was so wonderfully odd--an old looking steam locomotive with a rusted iron exterior, pitted wheels and candle-light emanating from the curtained windows.
"Of course." Sinister replies as the man slides into a sitting position, setting his hands on the table-top and folding them politely. Looking at Sinister, a metal-clad living creature with entirely inorganic features, he was reminded of the odd juxtoposition that he found watching the entrance of the train. A hooded figure, black tattered robes, with a faintest hint of a skull visible beneath its hood. The figure had merely passed, allowing him to enter the train which he had wandered through until he ran into the woman who called herself Lust--and she, had led him here.
"I shall get directly to the point of why I am here." Alberio said ploitely, looking to Lust, and then to Sinister with a faintest hint of a smile on his face, "I am a man who endeavors to aquire the histories of others..." Sinister's eyes studied the youngman carefully as he spoke, noting his genetic build, assessing the base components he was made of in order to break him down on a cellular level if necessary, "I offer, to you, a favor in return for hearing your story." Sinister learned back on the bench, folding his hands in a like fashion on the tabletop as the young man.
"And to whom, if I may ask, would owe this favor?" Sinister's pale brow arched slightly, the gears of machination already churning within his mind.
"Albireo Imma." He states, leveling his eyes to Sinister's crimson pools, and noticing a faint ruby glow coming from the back of Sinister's throat when he speaks, a red glow faintly visible in his mouth.
"Well, Mr.Imma..." Sinister cast a quick glance to Lust, who was peering out of the blinds on the train, watching the outside for more strays, "I offer you a chance to travel the multiverse of all creation, escape this world you have found yourself in--And I assure you, you are more trapped here than you could imagine--and have a chance to record the histories of creatures across all worlds." Alberio paused as Sinister offered this, reclining in the seat with a brief nod.
"And what, Mr.Sinister, must I do in return?" He weighed his options, waiting to hear the other half of the agreement before being satisfied with anything.
"I seek to unite the fragments of a Key, Alberio. A key to a place known as The Archive. A place where the most vast knowledge in all of the multiverse has been sealed away..." Sinister paused, memories of his battle with Lu fresh in his mind, "...but some of the Fragments are not in my possession. I request that you assist me in gathering them from their possessors, by whatever means necessary." Sinister leaned forward, putting a sleight bit of weight onto the table.
"Do we have a deal?"
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Wayne Administrator

Joined: 17 Mar 2005 Posts: 369 Total Words: 506,046
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Round IV - Conclusion
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Posted: Mon, June 12, 2006 01:50 AM Last edited by Wayne on Mon, June 12, 2006 02:04 AM; edited 1 time in total
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"Culucurithiel, back upstairs." The girl wordlessly nodded, and Lu slowly shifted into the stance of the White Demon style, arms raised, hands clenched and ready. "And make sure nothing happens to the fragment."
"You don't really think that's gonna work, do ya?" quipped Roger, tensing himself to strike, shadows gathering around his feet. "J, make sure something does happen to our key, hm?"
In a moment he vanished into a curtain of inklike darkness, the cyborg gleefully throwing off his cape into the chill night air and leaping onto the archway some sixty feet above in pursuit. Roger reappeared behind the monk in a splash of shadow and thrust with the knife, aiming at a weak spot; it snagged into the joints along the right side and drew blood, but Lu's spin threw off his aim, backhand cutting air as Roger laughingly ducked away and twirled back out of range. "I thought you were gonna blow this b---- up, man! C'mon!" He blocked a snap kick with his cane, braced with both hands, and then shoved his left hand, still holding the knife, forward, slinging the cane with greater-than-usual speed into Lu's face with a crack, and the emperor staggered backward, diverting Chi to the wound.
"...alright." He slammed his hand into the worked stone floor, shockwave rippling along the ground and knocking Roger off his feet... but with inhuman grace he stuck Bloodbane to the ground, balancing on it, and righting himself with a flourish. A trio of flames blazed from Lu's hands, and Roger frowned, vanishing into the shadows with a vulgar catcall. A trail of black appeared to the Spirit Monk's right... and then Lu concentrated, world flooding with grey as his focus opened his mind. He could see Roger emerging, as fast as a god itself; from the shadows, and Lu whirled behind it, chi flooding his hands as the black man burst from the ground.
He swore as Lu blurred, a sudden blast of pain exploding in the back of his head, and the chi-enhanced backfist slammed Roger to the ground. He grunted as he seemed to glide up, his grace still with him despite the pain; and Lu was on him again, bringing down the Flawless staff in a powerful overhand swing, Roger blocking quickly with both weapons... and as he whirled, dodging to the right, the monk dismissed his weapon and transformed into the twisted, inhuman magician, a mechanical laugh issuing from his mouth as he kicked backward, jets of flame singing Roger at point-blank range, and then spheres of plasma materialized into the air around him in a sudden firestorm. Roger vanished into the darkness once more as a wave of kinetic flames hurtled downward, searing along the entire floor where he had been standing, and then Lu Focused again as he glanced around the station-- there. The rest of the pyrokinetic display coalesced into a wave that slammed into the leader of Entropy from his perch atop a nearby store and blasted away the rooftop, as he fell down within.
The emperor charged forward, but this time he couldn't see within the shop; and without warning a trio of knives flew from within-- Just my luck, a random building with weapons...-- his staff formed in his hands and batted them away in a swift whirl. Lu snorted as smoking heat rose from his palms, calling out, "You are mad if you believe I'm going to chase a Shadowmancer into the dark!" as he raised one hand, sphere of dire flame slamming into the center of the shop and blasting it into a cinders, the sudden blaze leaping to the adjoining buildings igniting each one. The monk lowered his arm, eyes gazing keenly into the inferno... until he saw a shadow of a man in black emerge.
"Too predictable." snorted the monk, winds of Tempest kicking up dust as they began to rage around him... but he was mistaken. The shadow image faded as a trail of black emerged behind Lu, and his eyes widened as he tried to force his mind to focus... too late. One arm lashed around him, the switchblade drawing a crimson trail across his throat. The monk fell to his knees, gasping, as blood dripped from the wound onto the fractured pavement. Roger, taking no chances; grunted as he kicked the monk in the gut, sending him careening into a light-pole and smashing it in half as he tumbled unsteadily to the ground. The black man's eyes flicked up, just in time; as Culucurithiel wordlessly dove toward him, breaking away from her flight from J-card, the Crimson Tears flashing red... with a smirk Roger jerked his head in a contemptuous nod, shimmering veil of shadows emerging and deflecting the alien's path, and her wings caught air as she flew backward, enough to halt her flight.
"Y'know, I've had a lot of fun here, but--" His voice broke off into a sigh as the girl's moth-like wings faded, shifting around to guard her front like armor as she rushed toward him. Roger blocked, Bloodbane knocking away one blade; but as Culucurithiel struck with the other-- a feint-- she adjusted her grip on the sword in her right hand, impaling Roger's shoulder, blood staining his suit. She backed away, yanking the crimson sword free; as Roger grit his teeth angrily.
"J--"
"You're a fascinating opponent." Lu complimented, kneeling on the floor, raising up his right hand, first two fingers pointed up, then lowering his left arm to his waist, stretching it out, palm pointed toward the man in black. "I would almost want to join you... but my experiences with 'unstable' allies have been... problematic."
"'Unstable?!'" he mock-protested, keeping his distance, though as Lu had already seen he could strike at any moment. "Please. I'm just havin' fun on this lil' adventure. A man's gotta have a release, don't he? If he don't, he might go... crazy." His dark eyes flickered over to the figure in the clown mask, gliding down to rest behind Roger on the platform.. "Isn't that right?"
Its head bobbed. "Bunnies eat pie!"
"And we can't have anyone going crazy." the emperor replied dryly, closing his eyes. "No matter. My business is with you."
Roger hesitated, still poised to strike; though his arms rested a half-inch. "What's goin' on now? ...wait. Are you pullin' some Obi-Wan **** with me? 'If you strike me down I'll become more powerful 'an you can imagine?'"
"No. I'm trying something. An art once used by my master... only after decades of training." the Monk replied, mouth slowly twisting into a smirk, as a halo of dark red flames appeared around his feet. "I wonder how much the power of this world's art compares." Lu's hands lowered to his side and slowly spread out, and the circle blasted outward, shivers of red light tracing the train station platform and lobby just behind them, back up the stairs. Roger's eyes flicked to the cyborg's, then to Lu; and with a growl J-card dashed toward him, blurring with speed... and struck against the erupting field of magic, blasting him back to the far end of the station. The emperor laughed, eyes still closed in his trance. "...sorcery!"
The light passed over the stairwell, ripping it apart and forming into a concrete replica of Paladine, though less than half the size; and arced up toward the high, vaulted ceiling, ripping apart the hundreds of panes of glass to reveal an elaborate copy of Death's Hand. The masked, glass warrior leaped down, a few splinters shattering away on the ground, swinging its twin falchions at Roger, who parried with each of his weapons, forced back. The stone dragon landed atop J-card, crushing him, thought he immediately began to reform, extending hands into blades to saw off the monster's legs.
"You know this won't work." Roger pointed out, blocking the glass blade with his dagger and sweeping low, ducking the other, smashing Bloodbane into its leg... though instead of shattered outright an inch was broken away, and the golem tottered... but remained standing. The black man swore and vanished into the shadows, emerging behind Lu, jabbing his blade at the unmoving monk's neck... but a spiritual barrier of chi, the same power used to conjure the golems; crackled like a force-field and deflected the strike.
"I'm not counting on these golems to defeat you. Merely... to buy me time."
"For what?" the sharp-dressed man grunted, smashing his staff into the false warrior, a torrent of shadow rippling from it to throw it high in the air... it crashed onto the platform, large chunks of multihued glass bouncing on the floor.
"For this." In a flash the world flooded with light, as though a golden overlay had been placed over Roger's eyes. He and Lu stood against each other-- the form of J-card ripping apart the stone dragon seeming to occur in in some hazy realm beyond them; and the man from Entropy gaped as he saw himself standing, stock-still, across from a kneeling Lu... next to the one he faced now. "In the mind... there is no place to hide."
Without warning the emperor's image struck, passing Roger entirely... hand wrapping around the throat of a beautiful, somehow frightening; ghostly violet woman. "As I suspected...." the emperor mused, a blue tracery of Chi around his hand, burning against the spectral creature. "There was another presence with you, not quite existing in our world... is she the source of your strength?"
"No." the black man replied angrily, the first genuine emotion Lu believed he had witnessed from him. "You don't want to make this personal with me."
He won't have to. the woman's voice echoed, and a spindly arm stretched toward Lu's resting form... J-card standing over it, edges of a bladed card shimmering even in the haze of the mind's eye.
"If he kills me," the emperor warned, "...then we all perish here. You... me... her."
"You've already lost this one." Roger smirked, bolding hiding his switchblade in his coat. "You can't beat me there. You die if you kill me here. Somethin' tells me your 'strength' means more than that... 'specially since J will have the key anyway."
Lu glanced about... sure enough; Culucurithiel, unconscious, rested on the ground. Her pouch was still slung over her shoulder, but it was only a matter of time before the cyborg searched it... and the card loomed ominously close to his neck. "...very well. I surrender. You may have your key."
The emperor sighed in resignation, clasping his hands together and drawing them apart. The light faded, the world slowly snapping into focus; the purple-hued spirit blending into the chaotic darkness that seemed to surround Roger even then. Aware of all eyes on him, Lu stood, brushing past the cyborg, and he retrieved the fragment from the alien's sash; she stirred, groaning, but could not yet rise. "...here."
"You're too kind." The key vanished from Lu's hand, drawn faster than his eye could follow somewhere in the folds of black clothing. "...well... it's been fun, but you got a train to catch, if I'm not mistaken."
"Enjoy your victory, friend." The monk replied evenly, using his magic to regenerate the worst of the lacerations Culucurithiel suffered from J-card's claws. "...if our paths meet again... you will not find me so weak."
"I didn't find you weak," Roger chuckled, "...just found me better. Well, it's been fun. I'll have to remember some of those moves next time." He tipped his cowboy hat-- Hadn't he lost it in the fight?-- and walked off the tracks of the station, the jester following behind.
"...Em... peror?" the girl asked weakly, as Lu helped her to her feet.
"We lost. No matter. There is strength in defeat... for those who live to learn from it." He made his way toward the rear of the phantasmal train, entering a silent car. "...rest for now. I'll need you to greet the others later." She nodded as the armored man slumped in his seat. "Defeat... I am not used to it. First to the alchemist, then to the man of shadows... I will have to become stronger to deal with them."
"We both will." she said, reassuringly, and took one last glance out the window... and froze. "Emperor--"
"Is he here?" The monk, despite his wounds and fatigue from the constant battle, pulled himself up, and followed the line of her gaze, to the second man in black that had walked along that platform. "...well. So be it."
He strode back out, Culucurithiel again close behind; and the red-haired man offered a polite bow as they emerged. "It's a nice night, isn't it?"
The emperor bowed in turn. "It is... your Excellency."
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Seril I am TOMAHAWK MAN!


Joined: 17 Mar 2005 Posts: 542 Total Words: 138,122
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Posted: Mon, June 12, 2006 01:52 AM
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"An enticing offer, indeed," replied the mage. He considered his options. If he was being told the truth, the wealth of knowledge that would be available to him would be unimaginable. However, what he was truly after was... "Your history, doctor."
"Hm?"
"I want to hear it. If you would tell me of your past, I wouldn't require the knowledge offered, to join you." Albireo was intent on hearing Sinister's story.
"My history is one stained with tragedy. I offer you an infinite amount of sagas, but not my own," was Sinister's response.
"And I offer you the aid of a powerful magician with a thousand faces. Would you deny me the most interesting prize of all?" countered Albireo.
Sinister simply shook his head. "If my story alone is your only demand, then yes. There are some things, not even all the knowledge in the universe is worth to me."
Albireo cursed inwardly. He was hiding something. If he could talk him through it... "There is a reason why history is taught. A tragic past can help another learn from his mistakes before he makes them. If there is an event truly preventing you from telling me your past, then you need to find a way past it. Such tragedies when left unspoken only fester and rot at the soul. I have met many who have suffered such a fate and do not wish to see another join them."
"I..." started Sinister. He hid it well, but Albireo could tell from years of experience that Sinister was emotionally distraught over something. "No. If you will not take what I offer, then I ask you to leave."
Albireo's interest in the man's past grew with every counter-statement given. Now, though, he was starting to get a little disappointed. "See, now that's not playing fair. You've got the carrot in front of the horse, but chained his legs down as well. If you truly wish it, this history will never be replayed for another's ears. I give you my word as both a magician and a librarian."
"It is not your ears that concerns me, magician," replied Sinister. "It is my former self's... No, my denial of the weak fool I once was. To acknowledge it, would be to credit it." Sinister paused for a moment.
Bingo, thought Albireo. Now we're getting somewhere.
Sinister continued. "Take my offer, magician, or leave here empty handed."
Albireo shook his head. "You cannot deny your past, or run away from it. Doing so is a coward's way out. My friend...Nagi, is probably doing that right now," stated the mage painfully. "If you refuse to credit your existence to your past, then you may as well quit at your goal right here and now. You may obtain all of the knowledge in the multiverse, but you will be no more than an empty shell - a slave to the knowledge with no existence of your own."
"I changed my existence, Mr. Imma," said Dr. Sinister, his voice tinted with a hint of anger, "from the man I was... to Sinister. A slave once, yes. But no longer."
This guy is really starting to tick me off, thought Albireo. If I can keep this up, though, I may be able to piece enough of it together. "You cannot completely change your existence, doctor," he started, "You may alter and modify it, but all you are doing is running away from it. There is nothing in all of life that can warrant such a complete denial of your own past." Those last words Albireo let out scornfully, showing how heavy his disdain for such a thing is.
The women who had been standing idly next to the door suddenly spoke up. "I believe he has made his statement, Mr. Imma. If you will not accept the deal offered, you will leave."
Albireo shook his head and pushed on further. "There you go. Running away from it again. Are you that much of a coward, doctor?" Albireo leaned back a little, getting comfortable. "It doesn't take much of a mage to note the ward placed around this train." The ward in focus was what was currently preventing Albireo from making a Sinister Pancake. His magic was almost completely nullified. "Forcing me to leave will only cause great trouble for yourself, Sinister, and make yet another enemy that will stand in your way. Just as you offered me one last chance, I do the same: Will you stop being so ignorant of how the world works, or will you continue to run away?""
"If this train were mine, Mr. Imma, that comment may have scathed me," stated Sinister. "But this, my dear magician, happens to be the only way you will ever see your home again. Need I not remind you, you came here looking for me. I offered you terms, you refused. Our deal, Mr. Imma, is at a closure I believe." Sophia started to move forward, ready to escort Albireo out of the room and away from the train.
"Magic opens gateways that someone such as yourself has never seen. I did come in search of you, but I did not expect to discover such a fool at the wheel of the car." Albireo stood up, preparing to leave. "If necessary, I will find my own way home. I would rather entrust my life to a psychotic jester than to a man such as yourself." It was a bit of a bluff - multi-dimensional travel wasn't a topic he, or anyone he could replicate, was well versed in. However, he couldn't afford to show weakness in front of the doctor. Albireo gave a short bow, then began to walk out of the room, ignoring Lust. "Good day."
As Albireo left, Sinister motioned to Lust. "Make sure he doesn't try anything." The woman nodded, then followed the mage.
Sinister sat alone, brooding. Albireo may have had a point, but it didn't matter. He refused to acknowledge the man that spawned Sinister. He refused to admit that he was once weak.
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Albireo mentally commanded his Pactio artifact. Text began to weave itself upon a book with a particular label laced in ink. Albireo couldn't help but laugh inwardly. He may not have been straightforward, but there's definitely enough material there. I just need time to sort through it and ask some questions. As the mage departed from the train, he felt his magic return to him. Commanding a simple flight spell, Albireo left the area in search of the raven-haired woman who called herself Lust. She should have the answers he needed.
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Tenshi Kain Ex-SOLDIER


Joined: 18 Mar 2005 Posts: 138 Total Words: 136,202 Location: Fifth Jerusalem
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Posted: Mon, June 12, 2006 02:06 AM Last edited by Tenshi Kain on Mon, June 12, 2006 02:34 AM; edited 1 time in total
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---
“The Deling City train station, with its smell of cheap cologne and moldy hot dogs...hardly the proper locale for a villainous rendezvous, but I'm afraid it must suffice.” Vire Agraumar cast a sour look to the dim but distinct streetlights above him as he came to a tryst with the faerie and the warrior, as though he were eyeing mediocre props on a community theater stage. “If I had my way there'd be a lot more throne and trumpet involved, but we are very much pressed for time.”
Beside him, Ceriseth slowed in her pace, coolly regarding the two who had come to a standstill at the top of the stairs. “Yes we are, my liege,” she said, apparently not caring that her voice hardly kept it between her and her king. “So pressed that I wonder why you bother with theatrics. These people need to leave. Now.”
Vire smiled thinly. “Come, Ceri, let's not be any less courteous than we need to be,” he told her. “People in our line of work always are. In fact, if I'd known they were coming, I'd have left a few blatantly obvious treasure chests filled with legendary weapons lying around for them. But the ribbons and candy work, too. Ah, but let's not delay.” Striding forward with his second, the darksome king met his cautious guests with open hands. “Nice night in Deling City, isn't it? You'd never guess that none of this should actually be registering to your minds.”
The faerie-like girl who made him wonder if Biollante had a distant cousin blinked at him in confusion. “Our minds...? What do you mean?”
Vire turned his gaze to her, chuckling. “You must be Cthulhuriel.”
Her eyes shifted, hesitant. “Culucurithiel, actually...”
He thumped his forehead with a finger. “Ah, yes, forgive me. Cuculuruthul.”
“No, no, it's Culucurithiel...”
“Cu...cumberiel?”
“Cu-lu-cu-ri-thi-el.”
“Razzly.” Vire took the bewildered rehanashir elilu's hand and raised it to his lips, not kissing but softly brushing them over the back of her palm. “Charmed, my dear. I've been told of your courage and abilities, and am impressed. My humblest condolences on your parents' dearth of nomenclatural taste.”
Sun Lu's gestures were subtle, but the dubious glint in his eye suggested impatience. Vire chuckled, releasing Culucurithiel's hand and gesturing to the insignia on his chest. “As I am sure the esteemed Emperor would have told you himself,” he said to the girl, “this is Ceriseth, my second-in-command. I am Vire Agraumar, Rex Tenebrarum Memoriae, the Void-King. Ah-ah-ah!” He rose a finger, sharply, as Culucurithiel started to shrink away. “No fair, that's not even an original twist.”
“One of the...Encroaching Darkness,” Culucurithiel all but hissed. “No wonder my hand shivers so...”
“'Encroaching Darkness'? You are adorable, Razzly. Um, 'Cu.'” Vire laughed. “But save your horror for the real revelation. What I have to tell you may give you cause to reel back in true cinematic fright.”
“Which I see may have a limited audience,” Ceriseth muttered beside him. “Where are the other...'contestants', if that is indeed what they are?”
“Scattered around the city, dueling these odd creatures who bear 'Sinister's' taint,” Lu said, brow furrowed as he cast a half-glance over his shoulder. “If you would speak to all of them, I shall summon a guide for them to follow-”
“Oh, no, don't trouble yourself,” Vire chuckled, taking a few measured steps back. “If you're hosting one of these tournaments- sorry,” he broke to stifle a laugh at the word, “ah, if you're hosting one of these tournaments, I imagine the tedium has already worn you quite considerably. Lu and Cu, I shall lighten your burden. Besides, I wouldn't want to get rusty on mass teleportation.” He winked none-too-discreetly at Ceriseth, who clucked her tongue.
The Void-King reached into the fold of his robe and withdrew from somewhere in its recesses a single piece of blue chalk that, curiously, left no trace of itself on his gloved hand. Tipping it in salute to Culucurithiel and Sun Lu, he knelt, and traced around him a broad circle. Within that circle he wrote, with expert motion, a series of runes unknown outside the boundaries of a dreaming city. Power seemed to draw to them on completion, until something like glowing smoke or mist covered them a mere breath of an inch above the ground.
Culucurithiel squinted, still uncertain of the being at work before her, but more uncertain to speak under the stern red eyes of the swordswoman near her. Still, at length, she spoke. “A teleportation circle? I thought you wanted to save time.”
“I do, quite honestly,” Vire said without looking up, “but it's so much more meaningful than blinking everyone across time and space. Besides, Biollante- my other second- has told me too much of that instant transmission business causes cancer. Of course, she's also told me too much Triple Triad causes cancer, so I suspect it's just something she says to get me to do whatever she wants. Lovely girl, looks like a salad. Finished.”
Vire rose again to his full height, clearing his throat- not because he needed to speak, but if he was going to rudely rip a whole host of belligerent characters out of their much-deserved orgy of aggression and bloodlust, he wanted to do it with an oratorical pose. Standing in the center of the circle, he spread his arms in a majestically egotistical V, and swirling, unseen energies gathered to his frame, the night itself clinging to his presence. There was, however, no grand gesture or magical utterance with which Vire seized the reins of time and space- simply a flutter of his eyes, sallow one moment and golden the next, and with a sudden flare of his dark mantle and a reverberating cantrip (well, perhaps there wasn't anything simple about this, he noted coyly), he drew those reins until his temporal steed reared.
“Deflagrate muri tempi et intervallia! Venite pugnatores!”
A surge of magical energy, or something far more ancient than even that, burst from the runes, encasing the Void-King in an ethereal cylinder of blue light. All at once the runes seemed to break free as well, gathering around his rippling frame and dancing under the command of his fingers. Then he stretched his hands forward, and sent them spiraling off into all directions like curling lasers into the Deling night, seeking out their quarries. The cylinder of power reached its full intensity, until the magic circle Vire had drawn began to burn away, and yet even as it seared into nothingness the Void-King was untouched, his eyes calm and focused under the tumble of his black-tipped dark red locks.
Then the cylinder vanished, and with an abrupt sort of otherworldly yelp that would have shocked anyone unused to such a tremendous feat, a crowd of people materialized into the train station square, in a perfect circle around Vire and the others.
When he appeared, Duke had one hand on the zipper of his fly and the other reaching for what probably would have been the flush handle on a toilet. He blinked. “Huh? Hey, what the...?”
Ceriseth buried her face in her hand with a groan. Vire chuckled jovially and turned to Lu and Cu with an apologetic shrug. “There's always some minor disorientation to deal with,” he said. “But once you get their attention, it's not too bad.”
And before any of that “minor disorientation” could segue into anything more chaotic, Vire blew something up.
It was actually less destructive than it appeared, but all eyes fell on the Void-King when he threw that same blue chalk into the air and coursed a single bolt of lightning into it. A sharp crackle and a loud, though controlled, explosion of cerulean flame lit the entire square. And then, quite oddly, as the rumble of the explosion receded, the smoke formed into letters, surrounded by a kind of sparkling azure glitter, wreathing in the air for a long moment over the Void-King's head before dissipating.
“HI”
Vire smiled cheerily and beckoned Ceriseth over to his side, maintaining that oratorical stance of his. “Now that I have your attention, I apologize for not using a palindrome,” he said, and, when no one laughed, coughed. “Tough crowd. Let me make this brief to all of you- oh, hi, Kirby- and do something your esteemed hosts probably have not graced you with by clarifying your confusion. Try to refrain from killing each other for about ten minutes so I can deliver my carefully rehearsed explanation.”
Before anyone could respond, Triple H muscled his way out from between Metaknight and Marjoly, microphone in hand. “Hold on a second,” he said, voice blaring through the train station, “while I'm glad somebody's finally decided to explain what the hell's going on, who the hell are you?”
“Why is it always the wrestlers that follow us around...” Ceriseth mumbled, hopefully inaudible.
Vire craned his neck until he could get a better look at Triple H's King-of-Kings shirt, and giggled approvingly into a fist. “Yes, yes, how rude of me, I should have announced that to begin with,” Vire said, glancing back and forth between his gathered 'guests.' “My name is Vire. I am a person. I am also a figure of some importance in this Multiverse that you currently inhabit.”
“'This Multiverse'?” said Crim, eyes darting back and forth in confusion. “Uh...I'm going to guess we either aren't in the right place or you're off your rocker.”
“Well, I did use an explosion to get your attention...but no, you're not in the right place.” Vire shot Culucurithiel another inexplicable wink, then spread his arms around him, as though to take in the whole of the station they were gathered in. “Ladies, gentlemen, pink marshmallows all, heed my say. I have summoned you here to reveal a matter of great importance to all of you- namely, that you have strayed from your proper coil of reality. Not only are you not in the right world, but you aren't even in the right Multiverse. Rather, you're not in the right side of the Multiverse.”
He held aloft a hand. “Please, no questions yet- this is the part where I take everything you know and turn it upside-down so that everything you've done for the last twenty hours takes on a whole new meaning! You see, there is such a thing as a...photo-negative, if you will, of the worlds you belong to,” he said. “A place where the traits, factors, and circumstances of your existence become polarized, warped, and reversed. That is where you are now. However, it is not a place you should actually be able to travel to in the way that you did. You stumbled into it by a pure fluke. More importantly, it is not a place you should be able to exist in, but apparently you got around that by accident as well. Upon entering my side of the Multiverse, you...how to put this delicately...” Vire exchanged a glance with Ceriseth, then cleared his throat. “Bought the existential farm.”
Duke was seven feet and four inches of incredulity. “You mean we're dead? We went and got ourselves damned t'hell on accident?”
The Void-King rolled his head from side to side. “Well...'dead' is such a crass way of putting it, more so 'damned'...but then again, look what world you landed in, ahahaha! No, I believe a more accurate way of thinking is that you were converted from a positive type of existence to a negative. You're quite alive here, as you can plainly see, but you technically died by trying to forcibly penetrate the perpetual periphery- let me get that spit for you, Ceri- that keeps this respective parallel of your Multiverse from interfering with it, or sucking anyone in during a temporal-spatial storm or some such.” As he dabbed Ceriseth's cheek, Vire gestured to himself with his free hand again, chuckling knowingly. “Then again, you're talking to a walking violation of the Law of Non-Contradiction, so perhaps I'm not the best person to be telling you what you technically are and aren't. I mean, technically, I think Crim here is the ideal oil-can-opener, but he probably fancies himself a swordsman.”
Crim scowled at him. “All right, asshole, so if we buy what you say, we're all...converted to death, or something,” he said, waving one of his four hands in the air, “in this weird-ass Underside of the Multiverse. That mean we can't get home?”
“Patience, belimbed one, and all shall be remedied,” Vire said, smiling patiently. “You all dropped in rather unexpectedly, but I'm quite glad I caught you when you did. Too much longer and...well, let's not mind that. Regardless, you're considered dead in your Multiverse, so trying to forcefully place you back there is likely not to your benefit, but at the same time, I can't have you staying here.”
“Why is that?” Kyo Kusanagi asked, furrowing his brow. “Not that I don't want to go back, I mean...”
Surprisingly, it was not Vire, but Ceriseth who stepped forward, and the silver-haired woman spoke with deadly sincerity, and her voice was tight with focus. “This is not a time for questions,” she said, “but a time for agreement. You want to get home, and we have to get you out of here. It is imperative that we get you out of here and we'd better do it now.”
There was no mistaking the urgency in her voice, or the subtle but present mirror it found in Vire's eyes, even as he maintained his courteous smile. The Void-King shook his head, toying idly with a stray lock of hair near his temple. “My second-in-command is quite charming when she's serious, but she is correct,” he said. “While I would normally loathe the idea of forcing anyone to go back to that angst-ridden cesspool of a Multiverse you're from- no offense- I simply must. Keeping you here would...not be prudent. We'll leave it at that. For now, trust your dear old uncle Vire. I have a way to send you back.”
With that he turned to face the trains looming behind them in the shadowed station, and his stare settled on one in particular- one somehow different from all the others. At a first glance it was no more distinct in frame or size than the rest, but when one focused on color, suddenly one had to focus on its shape, and then its other qualities demanded attention, one-by-one, until after a long stare the train no longer resembled what it had originally. It was as though just by looking at it long enough, a great veil was systematically uncovered, and the true form of the vehicle was revealed- pale, and hazy, and not a little...ghostly. It was steeped in the eldritch, and though obviously sturdy, it appeared fragile, delicately crafted.
“As my meaningful gaze has no doubt made obvious,” Vire said, “it's that train. She's a beauty, isn't she?”
Culucurithiel looked it over, as fascinated with it as the next person. “What's so special about this train?” she asked.
“It manages not to get attacked by zombies and the Thursday night flank steak is exceptional,” Vire assured her. “But more importantly, it's a train limited not by the temporal or the spatial, but by the spiritual. It's sort of a...phantom train. It was designed by the legendary trainsmith, Todd MacGuffin, who built it to settle a duel with his hated rival, Reginald Unobtainium.” He was rewarded with a few groans, and smirked. “No, actually, it's a vessel not unique to this side of existence- it passes through all realities at some point, even this one. Its purpose, as near as I can ascertain, is to allow the souls of the aimless dead passage to their proper station in the afterlife.”
“...How did you ascertain that?” Squall asked.
Vire opened his mouth...paused, and stroked his chin. “You know, that is an excellent question. I'm not dead, so how do I know where it leads? On top of that, if you're alive here, how could you get on board a train to the afterlife? Could it know you're dead in the other side of the Multiverse? But if that were the case, why would it let people who are dead in this part of the Multiverse and alive in the other get on board?” He frowned, genuinely pondering this for a few moments. Then he snorted and wrung a hand. “Oh, well, the absolute worst that could happen is that you'll go plummeting into the black gulfs of oblivion, never to be heard from again. It's not that bad. My idea of a summer break, actually.”
“In all seriousness,” Ceriseth said, coughing, “the train does pass the boundary that divides the Multiverse into positive and negative. Where it goes ultimately, we don't know, but it should take you home. Pray that someone over on your side can help you when you return.”
“Life is nothing without gambles,” Vire said encouragingly. “I am sure that if you are strong in body and resolute in spirit, you'll be okay! That's usually how these things work. Now...” Unable to help himself and quite comfortable in the deconstruction of his dignity, Vire grasped his mantle and drew it to his chest, wiggling a hand over it enigmatically. “Farewell, from the Multiverse of nevermore!”
---
It took a little more coercing and at least one teleport by way of blinking, but soon enough the throng of displaced entities had boarded their ride home from Deling City. When young Layla Miller showed no hesitation in entering the train, Ceriseth felt a little better, though she could tell Vire probably thought it was resigned fatalism. The former Eternal shook her head as she watched the train pull out of the station, noiseless in its motions, gliding over the rails with the ease of flowing water. When its whistle blew, the station was filled not with a shrill howl of steam but with a toneful hum. She felt it on her shoulders, her ribs, the sword at her side. It was a calming sound, not uplifting but not mournful, and lent the train more of its ghostly aura. And when it began to slip away out of sight, the wind blew, cool and soft.
Despite her earlier briskness, Ceriseth said a prayer. She hoped they would find their way home.
She glanced with tentative concern to her king, standing beside her on the station platform, watching the train recede from sight and existence. “Is it wise to merely send them off without an escort, Lord Vire?” she asked.
“Wiser than it would be to keep them here with the same,” Vire said, not taking his eyes off the vehicle. “They will not be followed, I think.”
Ceriseth shifted in her stance. “But what if...?”
The dark king chuckled in his throat. “Your talent with cryptic dialogue is improving, dear Ceri,” he said, half-teasingly, and she actually smiled. “No, I wouldn't worry about that. They wouldn't dare strike the 'other side' before they're ready. And they're not.”
“I hope...I trust you are right,” she whispered, half-closing her eyes as the train finally vanished from their detection. “And where does their tournament take those ones now, I wonder?”
“Once I would have been curious, my dear Ceri,” Vire said, wistfully stroking the empty spot on his collar where his crown necklace once lay. “Regret and loss, ah, they have no small amount of weight in that assembly of fighters. But now I think the lines of conflict among them are far too limiting for their destinies to unfold freely. You could never tell just by looking- even Eternal eyes are too long dulled to perceive some things- but there is a formation occurring there...a great hand on the verge of closing about them. And I think it will close.” He looked over his shoulder, off into the distant lights of Deling, too small in the night. “As it will close here, if we should fail.”
“We will not fail.” Ceriseth looked at him with silent ardor. “I swear to you we will triumph, King Vire. On my sword we will triumph.”
Vire returned her stare, eyes swimming murkily from gold to wan yellow- and then, darkening into a trademark smirk, he reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Just teasing you, my dear. Just teasing.”
---
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Lucent The Undreaming


Joined: 10 Apr 2005 Posts: 885 Total Words: 388,792
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Posted: Mon, June 12, 2006 02:30 AM
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Eternity : Lines of Conflict - Divided Lines Still Fight
With the admission of the great Void King Vire Agraumar, it has come to the realization of those he summoned that, in all truths, they are not anywhere near home. Your sponsors have been pulled through the waters of Zurvan and beyond by the malfunction of the Clockwork Devices into the Negative Universe, Vire's own creation.
However, Both Sun Lu and Sinister managed to leave Istar via the functional clockworks before the cataclysm that dragged them through Zurvan, the void itself and beyond happened. Which means -they- are considered alive in this world and the next. Having struck a bargain with Vire to leave this multiiverse they do not belong in, they will be passengers on the Phantom Train, the only sole means of escape from this alternate multiverse.
You sponsors are aware of your condition and your inability to escape this multiverse and ever hope to get home without traveling on the Phantom Train.
The Train itself, an ancient steam-powered and rusted vehicle carries hundreds of boxcars for the passengers of lost spirits that it will eventually take to purgatory. You have a choice, here, at the end of round 4 as to where your stories will go from now on.
Once on board the Phantom Train, you will find your powers warded and sealed away by the deific power of spiritual conveyance that the train represents. You will be "peacebonded" and unable to harm anyone or anything by means of a reduction of all forms of your power physical/magical/kinetic or otherwise, until you can do no harm when you make the attempt.
All passangers on the train are under this effect, even Sun Lu and Sinister.
While on the train, you must find a way to escape after reaching your multiverse. The only way to do so, once on the train, is to pray that somewhere along the way, a spiritual force of some kind is seeking lost souls and opts to remove you from the train and draw you (and all of the other passengers) back into the multiverse.
Or, you can opt to swear allegiance to one of the two living beings on the train, who will have the power to resurrect you in the proper multiverse once the train passes back through Zurvan--Emperor Sun Lu, or Mr.Sinister.
In this round (or in the appropriate portion of the next round [you'll know it when you see it]) you must post who you are choosing to side with, who you are letting decide your fate once you have arrived in your own multiverse.
You have the following three options:
Mr.Sinister
Emperor Sun Lu
Fate itself
This choice will determine a crucial bit of the next round, and you must post your choice before making your first story post of next round. This choice will not affect voting, but it may affect people you interact with, and how you interact with them.
Choose who your characters would willingly serve (or reluctantly) or choose fate. Next round, you will be given an opportunity to explore the reasons and rationale behind your decisions fully.
As for the members of Entropy Incorporated... That is another story entirely.
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Seril I am TOMAHAWK MAN!


Joined: 17 Mar 2005 Posts: 542 Total Words: 138,122
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Posted: Mon, June 12, 2006 02:42 AM
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Albireo will follow his own path. He chooses fate.
Or not. Waiting until the next round goes up.
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Helmar :|


Joined: 30 Jan 2005 Posts: 525 Total Words: 638,562
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Posted: Mon, June 12, 2006 03:24 AM
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Night ON THE BLOODY LIAR
Refrain
* * * * *
I saw the answer, Sion.
Even if I continued for a thousand years…
There will be no more Anger.
You too will see it one day.
There is no salvation for such as we.
Let this Night pass.
Any brilliant Alchemist can attain it.
Ribbons.
If you look to…
If you…
If you understand all the world.
If you look at…
Her hair had ribbons.
The title of Atlasia.
There will be no more Sorrow.
Disturb not the seal of Atlas.
Don’t look to the End.
Didn’t it?
You will go completely insane.
The symbol of one who makes the impossible possible.
By fate even the gods have been cast down.
Softly and silently into the darkness.
There will be no more Hope.
You’ve seen it already.
…anyone can attain that vision.
…I would be unable to reach your height?
It merely holds its breath.
Or you will remain perfectly sane.
The rumor begins to spread.
In the end I was…
If you perform the proper calculations.
I was…
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