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 The Fallen Land (contd.)

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PostSubject: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 6:47 pm

"The Fallen Land" is a role-play that originated from Nomad's Reconciliation, but were cut short due to a disagreement and other disputes that followed. I'll be posting the posts from the previous site to reiterate what has taken place so far, rather than create a synopsis.

Participants:
- Alcarius Halcyon
- Drako Falconus (InnerSolace)
- Tasimo (undetermined)
- Amont (undetermined)

Order:
- Alcarius Halcyon
- Drako Falconus

*In progress


—Alcarius


Description:


In times undated, when all the world fell before an onslaught of darkness and chaos, the cities and lives of the Earth were struck down by evolution in the darkest way. Glass littered streets for miles, a symbol of the broken windows of catastrophe that lay sharp and true before the sides of countless buildings. Reaching heavenward, the sky-scraping edifices were a symbol of a grand utopia, where all life thrived. Under a reign of tyranny, minds grew to the point of insanity. All humanity was lost within a beautiful country's residents. The streets lingered with an ominous theme of death and bloodshed. The sky, littered with piercing smoke to veil all its once bright clouds was cast over what few remained within sanity's boundaries. Citizens slaughtered and animals gutted for food, the very things that shone bright with chaotic times to unravel for centuries to come.


Buildings lay at their sides, and dust vanquished any clear air within the paved roads that winded as if a spider's most masterful web through the once great utopia. Only a small percentage of civilians remained that lived day by day. Every morning they awoke to the smell of the deceased. A smell that permeated the air with a force of despair that was remembered by all for years upon years. Historic achievements were lost, all as the country fell one city after another. History itself was henceforth remembered as only a chaotic and dark time, passed on from parents to children, and from grandparents to grandchildren. None cared for the lives of others any longer; all only showed a care for achieving what they wanted most. For some it was a longing for murder, and for some it was salvation. A salvation that was never to be seen for hundreds of years. All hope was lost to those once happy residents, and some even wished for their own death. A death they knew they would receive from the merciless, corrupt by a malice like no other.

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Last edited by Alcarius Halcyon on Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:34 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:09 pm

Drako Falconus:


Leather garbs of blackened surface illuminated within the clouded sun's beaming light, threads of silver descending in straight path from a scalp shimmering as a head straightened, eyes of onyx taking their piercing gaze unto the very ruins with laid before them. Such catastrophe, brought unto the civilization once thriving here, as if the great swipe of an agile sword. Wind stirred, the fabrics of darkened leather adorning that strengthened body shaken with a fierce stream. Such divine attire, reminiscent of the bloodshed of one's past, shining through years of cruelty and malice, encased the very warrior standing atop skyscraper's edge. The view remarkable, those orbs of onyx gazed unto the plane of sky which laid ahead, as if waiting to be touched by the wings of freedom. But such freedom was not given to the destroyed utopia that once prospered with great fertility. With a crack, the edge of the towering building's roof crumbled downward, embodiment of the mighty plunged into the air, cascading ever downward. The swift bottoms of battle-worn boots pushed forth, placed before the side of the building which came to be destroyed with the lightest weight of a human upon its crowning tip. With such motions came the warrior's movement forth, as if jumping off the side of a henceforth cracked window, head aimed down and eyes gazing at the dark-stricken ground which grew closer.


Seconds passed, and although the dive through this infinite air had once shown the man's life leaning toward death, that body rotated forward, feet and legs flipping into frontal position, bottom of black boots slammed amongst the ground. So graceful was the brutal one who plunged into the sky so fearlessly, landing with no harm, just as a true master was able to. At that time, dust cleared, and there was the image of the single man who stood in its clouding wake, once blinded by its masking shade. Those eyes peered unto the land which tainted itself with unending corruption, every year more buildings aging and falling in their own stead. The city was in ruins, and such a sight was far more familiar to the man who walked alone for seemingly unending years. The warrior's blades of new honor gleamed within their own beauty, for even the most cloud-covered sun remained with the smallest inkling of hope in its presence, light shining through the cracks in the ominous cloud-driven sky as feet strode on pavement of endless torment, street approached and traversed at the slowest pace. But what adventures awaited the one who arrived in such a city of grief? Such a city once called heaven itself.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:11 pm

Tasimo:


In the years that he spent on this planet the tragedy that befell it came at an alarming rate of speed, and the anthropomorphic tiger male didn't know how it came about. All he knew was that the world was torn by war, chaos and he was left trying to fend for himself. More than once he had been chased after, hunted because the paranoia of humans had lead them to believe that he was a secret weapon in development escaped. The clothes he wore was a simple pair of blue jeans, a pair of slip-on sneakers, and his top clothed by a black t-shirt and a hooded sweatshirt. Clearly the wildlife also sensed something odd about him, because most stayed at a distance. Some though regarded him as friend, and ally.


Of recent date he had taken the form of a tiger to hunt, and the hunt was successful. He dragged the carcass of a deer behind him, the neck of the meal held within his powerful jaws. After dragging it a short distance or so he set it down, leaving it in the hole of a dilapidated building. He turned his blood-covered muzzle to the sky, letting out a roar that echoed through the surrounding area. Once finished with the roar he went a short distance from the kill, his molecular structure changing and his body changing in its shape and form. Bones cracked, and the fur that covered his body disappeared to leave bear flesh. He gritted his teeth, until the transformation was finished and he was in the form of a human man. Excited barks greeted his ears and he raised his head, seeing a golden retriever male and a German shepherd female run up to greet him. He smiled, chuckling and sitting up so that they would not flatten him and allowing them a scratch behind the ears, before redirecting them towards the food. Them being preoccupied with the food gave him time to slip on a pair of jeans, and once he was in those he walked out of the building and gazed around.


It was a depressing sight, and one that had become all too common as of late. He heard paws clap against the ground and turned back, his eyes greeted by the golden shepherd male that had taken a liking to him. He chuckled, scratching the male behind the ears and then turning his eyes back to the toppled buildings, hearing an occasional noise of something moving or seeing a group of people on the run. After a moment the German shepherd joined them, sitting at the man's other side. He heard his stomach growl and he frowned, giving the dogs one more scratch before going in to get himself something to eat.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:11 pm

Drako Falconus:


A howling in the distant streets was a cry that rang true and loud, carried amongst northern winds until it reached the well-receiving ears of the lone warrior who had so bravely descended upon the fallen land. The destruction of the building once stood atop took its toll on the street, windows shattered and glass forced through the air like a glistening elegance that could have easily brought the death of any by its sharpened edge. With a shield of grand energies, gold in all its wonder, had the mighty one been veiled from the glass that flung so horridly through the air. Soon, such energies faded within but a most fleeting moment, and all that remained was more dust. Dust that continued to enshroud dead bodies on the side of the street. The towering edifice, with its great downfall, brought with it the sound of destruction that waved for miles to come. In time, the animal's cry faded, and all that remained was the voice of a breeze that pushed through the cracks of abandoned buildings and streets wrought with the stench of death.


Roads were raised like an ocean's tide, a remnant of the dark prowess that made its cruel and harsh impact on the once heavenly plain of flourishing life. Life that no longer throbbed with crowds of people in the heart of the city's streets and plazas. All that survived were trees of no leaves, and a silence that could have easily brought insanity to whoever should live in it for time. Soon, the warrior's feet strode forth, glass shattered further under the pressing of leather boots. Scabbards ran amongst their twins that lay on all sides of the historic man, a sound of scraping soon to engulf the air that was brisk and full of death.Vines of silver that descended so gracefully from a scalp were caught within the guiding hand of a breeze sent from western skies, and alongside the leather attire that draped so finely about the man's body had each thread moved eastward.


Onyx spheres continued to grant their sight to the street laden ahead, all as feet moved with the cracking of glass below them. Even the smallest streams of blood ran down the crevices that wound their way through the paved ground, and soon such striding steps were taken over the liquids from a poor soul's body. Within minutes, the one who walked so calmly through death-ridden roads had come to a site of animals. Animals that feasted in hunger upon the blood-stained body of their prey. Should such ferocious beasts prepare to strike, the death-defying warrior was to release from its scabbard a blade that could cut in two even the hardest of materials. A steel tempered by the own strength that lay so dormant and peaceful within, ready to be released as if a flaming anger to purge all who oppose it.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:13 pm

Tasimo:


As he arrived back within the wreckage of the dilapidated building he looked to the deer carcass he'd brought back. He grimaced just as he realized there was no way to cook it, so in his current form his digestive system wouldn't be able to stomach the raw meat. His tiger form on the other hand was able to withstand such feasts, so with that in mind he disrobed and got on his hands and knees. His bones cracked and his body changed, gritting his teeth and groaning as fur grew along his body, his mouth growing out and extending into a maw shape and his eyes growing more angled, like a cats. A tail extended from his backside, a tiger's tail that twitched and lashed with the changing of forms.


Once the transformation was complete he went to the deer carcass and began feasting, tearing away at the meat and swallowing it down with little chewing. He had feasted for around a good ten or fifteen minutes when he heard a warning bark outside, recognizing it as the golden retriever. In heeding the warning he picked up his head, turning around and trotting out to where the two dogs were, the golden retriever barking as if he sensed something, while the German shepherd licked her lips, glancing around in an uneasy fashion. Something or someone was around, and as his feline ears pricked and his acute sense of eyesight surveyed the ruins of the city he noticed nothing, but an unfamiliar scent did greet his nostrils, one that penetrated the stench of decay and death and revealed itself to be a living being.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:14 pm

Alcarius:


Calamity resonated throughout abolished lands—wretched zephyrs surpassed all who step foot within its realm. A civilization that harbored prosperity, before perpetuating a self-destructive cycle in which reciprocated the inevitable downfall of what would be a keystone figure with due respect was unknown. Perhaps the ideologies iterated throughout each generation were misconstrued along the way. It was far too early to assume such arbitrary thoughts without primary evidence.



In the distance it seemed as though the desolate exterior contained nothing more than debris, but to which concealed sentient embodiments—scorned by what tragedy, internal or external, befell those poor souls. What comprised the strong seemed to have a counter-effect as ebony soles ventured forth. Zephyrs influenced the western front, and proceeded to sway cinereous tresses in accordance, complimented by adornments a former ruler from his country donned: attire in which seemed both infamously empyrean and suited for any contemporary foot soldier, layered in both cloth and genuine leather. A strand of cloth descended far lower on his left side, with a faint chartreuse glow through the Celtic language inscribed along its length. Other genetic features remained fairly normal, apart from a few minor altercations that expanded the physical limitations man could possibly achieve.



Footsteps pressed onward as his trek towards a further understanding as to 'why'. The crunch of each step upon porcelain glass, and that of similar composition were reminiscent of a past tribulation in his research. Though, the recipient was met with misfortune. Monochrome visionaries gazed in the clearing—mild confrontations broke out amongst the survivors, to which he'd greet with the might of a blade that thirsts for bloodshed. A gaze that shook the hearts of men, that tore the confidence of those asunder, and pushed back one's capabilities through its ominous presence which resonated with the self, struck a man daring enough to test his mettle. The sentient being shook beneath his might, thereafter he gestured to move aside. He'd rather not end the life of a hopeless soul wandering the lands as a scavenger. These people had no sense of authority, nor any willingness to follow through. It saddened him to see such chaos go unchecked, and abolishing all who embody its influence would do no good but further reciprocate the chaos.



Nonetheless, the man pressed onward. Through the riled shells, faintly animated that expressed no remorse, nor restraint toward their brethren, wind up swept his path. Swaying his aesthetics toward the east before descending to a subtle point, there seemed to be a far greater presence within his vicinity. Perhaps he could deter from the desired path to investigate.

A foe or an ally? It's too difficult to distinguish given these circumstances...

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:15 pm

Drako Falconus:


So arose the stench of blood and inner organs, passed through the small canals of a nose after the hint of a smell that symbolized the devouring of prey, all seeping from the jaws of the beasts who stood only a matter of feet ahead. With blades at sides and hair moving like an ocean's current in the gales from western buildings far to the side, all that cast its image in the fog around the street was a silhouette of the brave warrior who stepped so cunningly into the feasting haven of the animals. Their teeth bore in a growl, this one was on alarm for caution, for any moment the brutality of the creatures could show itself. Blood dripped from their fur lips and slammed into the paved ground with the smallest of echos. But in light of the confrontation, another presence, felt in the distant streets, edged closer to what seemed was going to become a battlefield of bloodshed and merciless cleaves. The new presence resonated with a smell of death far beyond the grueling stench already discovered, as if a feast, so barbaric, had been enjoyed to the fullest.


In this realm of fight-for-glory, all who wandered the streets of once beautiful earthen ground were doomed to survive at all costs, whether it meant taking the lives of others or the agreeance to a truce through the bond of rivals. Even with the most glorious victories, all were broken down under the weight of such a dreadful land. In the matter of mere moments, a new arrival was made. This new beast was gazed upon with eyes that bore a serenity so mysterious that it held the power to drive one's own curiosity to insanity. Their stance was proud, as if they stood like they were the leader of the animals that fed so cruelly. Yet such a leader was so different in race that these lesser beasts had no reason to take submission under its orders. Its great coat was aligned with stripes and glistening hairs that shimmered in the smallest spots in the clouded sunlight.


Thus came the clashing of blades in the streets beyond, blood spilled with the swift movements of a blade released and sheathed once more. In seconds only, all was silent, no growling to be heard and no deaths to be had. Fog grew thick, and no longer was there a shadowed silhouette of the man garbed in leather and equipped with so much weaponry that any movement seemed as it would be hindered by overwhelming weight. The apocalyptic times that drew the image of the world in the hands of fate had dimmed the streets with a fog so ominous that all to wander were to get lost within its winding maze. Silence was the key to any strategic strike, and these beasts who stood so readily were nowhere to be seen. The fog had blinded those onyx eyes with a most dark image that left the mighty one at caution's end.


With looming darkness around the new battlefield, will-tempered blades were heard releasing themselves from the bonds that held them so sternly. Their scabbards had become empty, black casing to withhold no weaponry within its walls. Enshrouded so perfectly, one blade was cast to each hand, and many remained at the back. With strength overwhelming, prowess was released from within at not even the greatest might imaginable, yet mighty enough to remove from the blackened and bloodstained street the fog that choked at this position, all with the swing of each blade. All was clear yet again, and silence descended upon the street once more, wind chiming not after the swiping of such magnificent swords was accomplished. Eyes locked with the silent animals ahead, only time could tell the outcome of the sudden meeting.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:16 pm

Tasimo:


Those golden eyes continued to scan about the area, the demeanor of the Bengal tiger silent in spite of the Golden Retriever's alarmed barks to some unseen presence. The scent of such a presence invaded his nostrils, and as the Golden Retriever beside him gave those alarmed barks so the German Shepherd remained silent, ears pressed flat to her skull, each canine on either side of the tiger. As silent as he was he knew that the Golden Retriever's barks would lure someone here eventually, and possibly someone that could mean trouble; so he stepped beside the male and turned to him, giving a single growl to the canine that caused him to silence with the barks. Even with the silence the alarmed look could still be seen within the Golden Retriever's eyes.


There came the sound of metal scraping against metal, what the tiger could only surmise to be a conflict somewhere in the distance. Behind him the canines both gave unsure whines, and as he glanced back he saw them glancing around and then to him, as if asking what to do. His answer was to turn around, give a nudge to each of the canines and walking off, the Golden Retriever following closely to his side and the German Shepherd choosing to hang back a bit further than the male was to the tiger. And so they went, traveling the opposite direction to the initial conflict. The only thing any would see of the three was their silhouettes disappearing into the dank darkness of stench and decay.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:17 pm

Alcarius:


Further investigation led to no distinction of what occurred. It was difficult to decipher what lay sentient, and what plagued the senses through a facade of potential death. Desperation filled the atmosphere in which the Gods turned their backs to. Half-hearted mettle clashed with one another through feeble attempts to define their purpose, to which... disgusted him. Wretched souls desecrating sacred grounds with greed. Despite this, few souls remained pure, but were forever enshrouded by the darkness that could not be escaped; the grounds that ravaged the self and breathed disharmony. The thickened atmosphere presented through mists, which revealed that of the presence that irked his senses. Though it was unclear, the wisp of artificial zephyrs created through adornments swung to alleviate any form of deception defined the image of another—a being in which appeared to portray the image of one who has been through many tribulations. The question remained: friend or foe?


At first glance, faded visionaries of complimenting color to one's hair narrowed upon characteristics that may seem hostile or imposing. Blades became apparent, defined by their craftsmanship but resonated with tranquility. Perhaps this would not end in bloodshed, or some petty confrontation. Even though the man before him seemed to have no thirst for blood, opportunities could not be granted. A subtle gesture of the left hand darted for his contemporary device along his right side, and pulled forth a hilt that seemed harmless at first glance. Resonance with the body entwined with some celestial force that acted on a whim, to which he proclaimed time and time again materialized a blade, similar to that of a falchion. The blade was held inversely behind him, directing its tip toward the ground before stepping further toward the ominous figure. Questioning him, lips orated a question, fleshed out through one unscathed by the chaos:


"What is the reason for withdrawing such weaponry? These people have forsaken themselves—there's no reason to act with subtle fury, critical of those scorned by their leaders."


Diaphragm remained static as words were spoken, though his posture brandished the weapon in such a way that he'd be ready for an oncoming assault. Faint winds surpassed their beings, leaving an up swept crescent movement in cinereous tresses, and clothing alike. Beyond the two, he sensed another presence, slowly fading into the darkness that held its grasp upon once holy grounds, forever tarnished by unrelenting evil.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:18 pm

Drako Falconus:


There was no room for hesitation, the stranger had approached with but a small speech that rang through the warrior's ears. No sight was given to the one who came from the distance. Every passing second was spent in silence. Thus descended upon them a far more darkened sky with the eventual coming of nightfall. The moon had not set its lunar glory on the sky, but the sun in all its remaining elegance had taken a path behind one of few remaining skyscrapers. The building had come to darken all light on the street, and the sun's fall was the beginning of an unrelenting torture to be given to the already fallen city of once great praise. Such calm winds, the only reminiscence of beauty for this foul land, had become mighty gusts that pierced the air with a merciless force. Glass was pushed along the heavily cracked streets, only to land in crevices and what grass lingered on soiled grounds, and then to be pushed further still.


"In moments, you will come to see that it is time to withdraw such weapons and take arms against a great beast. A beast that has struck this city time and time again. It is time for its life to end, and for this city to become one step closer to its true redemption."


The gales continued, all their strength a symbol of oncoming destruction only minutes into the future. The future was dark and clouded still, and soon a beast rose from the paved streets. Debris of ground and buildings alike were tossed in all directions, and magma itself had seeped from within the new cracks of the ground and into the open, where the sudden winds had chilled its heated stream and froze it in its wake. But such was not the fate of the beast which had arisen, foul in all its image. The creature was the size of a sky-scraping tower, its hide of the strongest material to be known. Its structure was of a worm, demonic with glyphs of old aligning its steel-strengthened hide. Its mouth bore fangs that curved at the sides and formed straight in the front. It roared with a voice of darkness. It knew no language, it could not speak. It could only wreak endless havoc on wherever it should emerge, and such was its life's very mission. Destruction was all it ever knew. A parasite to the world, the worm had torn asunder cities and countries, resistant enough to travel through the smoldering magma core of the planet and to other regions, only to destroy all in its path.


The creature had lived for eons. The planet was its cocoon, its nourishment. It grew inside, and it became a living force capable of decaying the world as it was known with its tainted body that moved through earthen crust and ripped apart fields. Only a mile away, those onyx orbs stared with their intimidating view upon the corrupt. The worm had squirmed within the air, and its mass had been tall and wide enough to blight out what light remained on the city. All was dark, and all was soon to meet its end should the creature never be stopped or cease its tyrannical gorging. It fed upon whatever it crossed, and such was the origin of massive craters dented into the Earth for thousands of miles. Lives were lost to the unending malice that it held, and the shining glyphs of purple and black laden at its sides meant the summoning of lesser beasts. They came from within the body of the creature, layered in a slime that dripped to the ground. They were as large as an adult human, borne in massive numbers that allowed them to easily overrun even the largest army. Many had fallen to them, and within weeks the otherworldly infants were ready for a new birthing. They encircled the creature that gave birth to them, bound to it until given the order to purge the world of any right it had left. Thus, a new foe had surfaced with a chaos unlike any other.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:18 pm

Tasimo:


The tiger continued on its path away from the sounds of metal clashing against metal until it began to dim in the distance, the sound dying away as he went onward with those two canines trailing behind him. It was an odd allegiance, a tiger and two dogs. And as odd as it was it also made little sense. But it was what it was--That was the way of the world; some things made little sense, and yet they were to be regardless. An alarming sound greeted the ears of the tiger a short moment later, as he turned around and stared in wonder as the pavement cracked, and he saw buildings heave upward as some gigantic beast surfaced from beneath the Earth. It was the same one he noticed when the chaos started, the same one that brought destruction upon so much within this world. He wasted little time, turning around and nudging the two canines, urging them onward without him. The Golden Retriever refused at first, and at last the Bengal Tiger was left no choice but to roar at the Golden Retriever. That finally did it; the dog went onward along with the German Shepherd with his tail between his legs.


It broke the Bengal Tiger's heart, but he could not have them get involved in this and have them get hurt, just as he had seen so many get hurt when they'd stepped within the path of this monstrosity. The Tiger began back the way he came, eyes narrowed and intending to go towards the source of that strange scent. Could the one that the scent belonged to be involved somehow with the beast? There was only one way to find out: go find the source. He paused in the middle of a desolate street, gritting his teeth and then roaring as his form changed, his rear legs extending and more resembling a human's own. His claws dug into the ground, the digits of his dew claws extending to length so that his digits resembled human fingers more, claws still gracing the tips of those appendages.


He began at a run now, vacant of his clothing but in this anthropomorphic form he was without the need for them. After a short while he encountered the one whom the scent belonged to, a male dressed in black and with spiked, yellow hair, several swords gracing his back and seeming to vary in length. "Are you the reason for this... this monster?" he said, extending one of those clawed digits to point to the beast growing out of the Earth. If he was permitted a moment of silence he would take that moment to observe the man standing before him, a wry smirk coming into play upon his lips. This moment didn't last for long though, as his eyes were once again drawn towards the gigantic monstrosity, his gaze for the moment held to the beast.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:21 pm

Alcarius:


"Fair enough..."

Subtle monotone, orchestrated with little notion to decipher the intent of the mysterious figure before him. Priority shifted to the monstrosity—primitive in all manners. Its repulsive existence defiled the grounds in which welcomed no such thing; albeit, without prejudice, but with the chaos it casts upon the desolate city, the privilege has been revoked. The cephalic structure tilted to the side, with visionaries lustful for redemption were fixated upon this scorned creature. Its composition emanated with contempt for those who opposed its fury—fury by which, signified nothing. 'Blasphemy', it could be described as; contrary to what it stands for, nothing would stand in his way. To cleanse the land and abide by the holy order was his purpose. Reasoning suggested a means of exposing oneself to the grounds it desecrated—raped of its prosperity and forged a pact with the essence of darkness. Ebony soles progressed forth, his ascension took place amongst the other two that stood alone.

Beyond the scope of endless structures that obscured the amassed embodiment, uniform stems of flesh protruded from its being that pierced the ground, ravaging its callous surface to nourish itself further. The thought scathed his heart—how could one of no values defile a place of sanctity? Nevertheless, some cultivation took place. It was beyond mere nourishment; the grounds shook in fear of its power, and corpses began to rise. Fleshed out through its transference of foreign energies that somehow breathed life into absently-sentient beings. Covered in a mixture of blood and other bodily fluids, countless bodies climbed out from underground, surrounding its creator. Though there weren't many, it could be assumed more would cultivate to replace those lost, and exceed their current capacity. Tormented souls these wretched beings were, with a countenance harboring similar resemblance to those who have fallen in the chaos. Brief reminiscence with one of those faces shook his foundation at the core, his exterior remained undaunted by such grief. Penitence for this loss could be redeemed through vanquishing the fellow creature—followers and all. Sentimentality was lost at the shift of his psychological state, influencing the reigns of combat he flourished in.

"Shall we?"

Swift ascension up swept his being, as he took off in a dash upon the masses of cultivated beings. Other sentient forms remained static, overwhelmed by the essence that this monstrosity encroached upon, ravaging the weak, and scathing those remotely sane. With Ephemeral in hand, swift strikes were implemented upon several bodies in unison. Haste implied the forceful lacerations upon each being, to which his sword held no prejudice for, despite the innocence many portrayed. Endless bloodshed adorned the man, through clothing and weapon; tarnished by endless droplets of impure aqueous, tainted with its repulsive essence. Bodies dropped in his section one after the other. Hopeless. They held little resistance at first, but began to undergo a more conscientious approach. Perhaps more than mere vessels these beings were, fleshed out by a facade of innocence that lacked purity in its efforts. A forceful endeavor of swift strikes continued his wake, as chartreuse silhouettes replaced his previous position, moving in between bodies to strike those unwary of his intentions. A cross-cut called upon through an alternate realm, commanded at the whim of his, conjured forth a phantom replicate of Ephemeral, alluding to its name as its purpose were fulfilled, the blade diminished entirely. A testament of sorts to his power.

Soon after he leapt from the fallen, sliding along the earth with the opposing hand that braced his impact. Glass up swept beneath him, bloody in all forms, a faded laceration towards the heavens pushed the blood that once tarnished his blade from its structure and sent it astray. This was far beyond the task of one man, and required many to subdue the darkness once and for all. He stood up to turn towards the aboriginal people of this land, and thrust his sword into the air as a forceful gesture to rally those frightened by what would-be considered a menace, with words of glory that orchestrated his zeal towards the cause:

"Descendants of the fallen city, hear my plea! Despite the turmoil everyone has faced from recent times, do not allow the evil to take hold of your hearts. This monster that has fed off of holy grounds for so long cannot be left unchecked, and through unity, we can bring down the opposition and cleanse this land of all evil! Take up arms and rise against the tide of evil, and show this menace what true strength is!"

The sound of endless cries of war and redemption resonated throughout the land, surpassing that of the moans and wails of the cultivated personifications of demise this monster has managed to construct. Hope had slowly began to restore itself to its proper state; slowly but surely those remaining would be able to avenge those they've lost to the evil, and successfully purge all acts of infamy once and for all. Though, a plan would need to be devised; despite the zeal orchestrated uniformly amongst these people, charging head-on would bring nothing but calamity once more if nothing was formulated beforehand. Attention averted to the mysterious man, and that of the anthropomorphic that remained in the distance:

"But first...We'll need to devise a plan. It'll have to be quick, but thoughtful, as each second spent contemplating is another second spent empowering the darkness. I propose those who are swift on their feet, or trained in aerial combat, to act as the driving force on the creator, while those who specialize in vanquishing multiple foes to remain grounded and assist with the other soldiers."

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:23 pm

Drako Falconus:

Only silence, no words bespoken upon the stranger's presence that deemed itself so sudden and great. Such a display of prowess was the very thing that held a hidden might to have toppled the raging beast in near future. The wonders that were shown were vast and magnificent in skill and execution; the one thing that appeased even the curiosity that lay deep within the leather-garbed individual of mysterious past. A past cloaked in shadow and darkness, and drenched in bloodshed and constant death. A past that was soon to be forgotten, for with the blighted light of the land came an opportunity to strike at the corrosive parasite that was the worm before them all. There stood the three of them, a party like no other. One was of man and beast, and two were of mystery so deep that not even their greatest strength had been shown before the onslaught of blackened fate.


The worm's titanic shape had shaken the very rulings of the atmosphere. Lightning struck the sky with thunderclasps of chaos that reigned over darkened clouds.The electrical field soon summoned by the beast's presence had taken a vibrant red to its streaking elegance. Although it was brought upon the world with endless calamity, its color of an honorable hue was the only thing that came to be known as true beauty within this darkest hour. But even in beauty lay the death of a thousand men, as smiting sparks turned to spears of lightning soon to descend upon the streets and buildings of the city. All was within destruction's path, and the parasitic creature had gorged upon the atmosphere in such a way that its feasting fangs knew no bounds. It knew no end to its constant murder and reaping of lesser souls. Humans were powerless against the one thing that deemed itself a monstrosity so large that it could have devoured half a city with its constant infection. Thus, those eyes only stared upon the destroyer of all.


Moments passed, and with the great speech given by the finely honed warrior who so bravely stepped forth, even the city's finest combatants were no match for the millions of offspring that inched their way closer to the street where the three stood so calm. Many children of the tainted had fallen to the skill of the one who seemed to withhold the magical power of a god themselves. So undesirable was the situation brought upon the poor souls that only wished to venture through life's blackest times and reign victorious in their brave end. They were the dead brought to a new life, only to meet the brutal fury of the one who spoke so loudly in courageous tone. Those who awoke from the soiled earth were given a new path to the other life, and none knew their fate in such a realm that could mean prosperity or torture. So stood, only a matter of feed ahead, was the one who brought their wrath in furious strikes upon the tainted that arose and attempted an attack of malice. A malice that was given to deceased minds and breathed life into the bodies they shared.


The twin blades of Japanese forge held tightly between bound fingers gleamed within the stripes of pounding thunder and lightning that pierced the skies above. The very weapons once used to vanquish enshrouding fog in past moments and diminish its darkness. A single line of light ran amongst the center of the blade that churned so swiftly in a right hand. It spun with a torment that had once brought its bloodthirsty greed to the lives of others. The sharpened tool of death was the one that helped guide the fortitude that arose so deeply within the warrior's very being. The ignition of golden energies meant the conjuring of a destructive force to rival the nameless worm that emerged from a magma core. Even with the scorching path followed by the parasitic, its end inched closer to reality. Its hide of steel was to be no match for the forces soon to be released in great amount. A power that was to tear asunder the creature with the impalement of billions.


Flames were the image cast like an ascending energy from within, gold in all its beauty. The calm heart within was purged with the will to end the tyrannical time that the worm had caused to the people of the world. A firm state of neutral was held still within the mind of the man who took form so masterful that even the creature, in all its deformity, erected itself from the ground in awe. Its roar was intimidation itself, thrust unto the few remaining in the city. Lightning rained upon the grounds near the mother parasite and its lesser children. Such an abnormal thing was to come upon the edge of the skilled blade the warrior so wielded. For all the death and destruction caused over years in hundreds had to cease. A time of redemption was finally within the gates of destiny. It was the first time that the mighty one had felt a need to help those who suffered so greatly.


The ground shone with a luminescence that reached even the corrosive eyes of the parasite. Its color was of red, to match the lightning that had defiled the air above. The mighty roar of the evil beast continued and stopped not. Through all its cries of battle to its brethren had scabbards on a back been relieved of the sharpened metals that were sealed within. Soon, all blades were thrust into the air. Thus came the formation of a triangle, bright in gold, and thereafter came the creation of a circle that spun around its center shape. The newly shown ability of a bright cyan sped through the sky within the matter of a blinking eye itself. The red ground quaked with massive tremors, and within time came the spawning of an array of blades that shot from earthen core. In billions, the azure weapons borne from otherworldly techniques and wrought from the fires of heavenly plane had all aimed sharpened edges unto the direction of the mother parasite. Soon, the destruction of such a towering creature was to take its course. It was time for the death of a monster.


Closed, once more blinded were those onyx eyes. This time from a fog not, but from a serenity so deep that the mastery of the conjured weapons of astral origin was displayed in full. They plunged into the atmosphere that surrounded the calamity, flames of purple within their trailing wake as if an ocean's wave. The azure edges had struck into the hardened crust that was the creature itself, and in agony had it cried to its children. In agony had it died where it stood with the passing of but a few fleeting moments. Thunderous bangs continued to ring within the skies of all directions, henceforth shaken out of phase by the one who had brought death to the world's parasitic plague. Seconds passed, and the billion strikes subsided with dissipation. No longer had the summoned onslaught of blades been seen in the air. All that remained was the wind and the cries of divine pain screeching from the mother of all shed blood.


The beast fell where it emerged. The grounds quaked for hundreds of miles, and linked to the life force of their mother, the offspring in millions were exterminated with such a swift attack. Its carcass laden across the plain of field that it sought to destroy, it liquefied in its death. Its boiling remains set ablaze what grass remained, and in glorious victory had all katana been sheathed so quickly within their scabbards of black once more. Thus, only silence remained. The cries had stopped, and the destroyer was purged from all existence. Its spirit lived not, for those who met the prowess of the warrior were to hold doomed souls that could seek neither Heaven nor Hell. It was absolution in the end of all life taken.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:25 pm

Amont:


Hearing such destruction and desolation within the air, it had brought the male to the saddened truth, the world was being destroyed ever so slowly, but hearing others speaking in the distance had brought to his own conclusion, seeing many signs of battle the pale occuli started upon such a splendor. Given the surrounding be destroyed to an extent this would further wreath into the world of devastation not that it were to be of such mild mannered presidence, a breath released from the orifice then stepping fourth towards the combatants; if they were battling one another it would be settled in a manner which none would wish, but if it were to be a training round it would give perhaps a different outcome, though through assumption..he had thought it was a battle against many. Such destructive power should never create such devastation, that much was to be true to a point unless both were so powerful they needed every ounce of their power to be rendered into such a clash, it were as if two warlords saw one another on the battlefield, the results would be drastic for either side victory or upheaval.

Standing upon the threshold of the area crossing both arm appendages before the chest cavity, tapping the phalanges along the forearm with impatience settling through him, the highest point in the area seemed to be a rock, albeit not too high as to mask his presence though it also seemed possible they would spot him, he meant no harm; yet if one were to draw a weapon or use the manifestation of powers or abilities, he would have no choice but to devastate them, or even nullify their abilities for a time, given the circumstances that seemed unlikely, both in the clash seemed to be rather hasteful with the surrounding of monsters and beasts filling the area, though he was certain they had not wished to harm him. Undaunted he stood watching the two uncivilized barbarians attempting to kill one another, for the victor shall feed upon such flesh, as the loser shall become the feast, it was cannibalism it had affected the people due to the shortage of food, all within the surrounding were enemies to one another, uncertainty filled the cold eyes upon staring...

"I have had enough of these games.."

Within such built an energy which could become unfathomable to most, especially the barbarians before him, heathens they were to the awesome might which filled such an embodiment, raising both arms up then slinging them forward, the cold eyes widened as strain began to fill the body, wings had arised, both of the solid black coloration with a scale-like coat; crimson spikes residing from the centrifuge creating the "Pure" which he preferred to call himself. Swinging the body down upon the ground the shockwave had sent both of the uncultivated beings as well as the creatures around him into the air above, and with a single swipe...they faded, everything excluding the destroyed valley, all life in the area had been completely erased off of the face of the destroyed Earth. Sad was it, but it did not seem to phase him, he grew impatient once more, housing such thought then taking to the skies to resume travel, finding no need to aim for a single area he began to fly aimlessly, to possibly achieve a civilized area to become a part of, to perhaps repair the destroyed world.

"May we find bliss..in hopes the world be rebuilt anew..."

The white garbs flew in the winds within the flight as to resume such presidence of the ill fated condescendance which filled the bones of the male, the "Pure" Feigncast, the father of such a breed, perhaps an ally would be of more use to him than to needlessly slaughter the heathens whom fell to the destructive worlds grasp upon such annihilation. It was the sad truth that came to the realization that the world may never be the same, but that..would have to change.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:27 pm

Alcarius:


The enigmatic disposition was left undaunted by such a display of connoisseurship in the art of the sword. Though it deserved praise, he merely gave a nod of acknowledgment toward the man who had no conscientious thought of such to occur. Beings of equal power, or so one perceived joined in a cause that grew dependent on more than sentient individuals whose cause remained strewn for so long. The calamity these people have faced was nearing its end, and a new chapter could entice the people of the forgotten city. Cinereous tresses cascaded upon the immaculate countenance, tainted by droplets of crimson strewn about the right half. His cephalic stature descended somewhat, not in despair, but for the presence of impending evil that seems to have nested at the very core, at least... what remnants the beast has managed to portray. Though the heavens wept in accordance to what occurred, the downpour cast itself in a myriad of cerulean aqueous, foreign in tint, but somehow nurturing to what has been left with nothing; again, 'raped', if one were to define its stated. Endowments of precipitation blessed the holy grounds once again, as the grounds began to shake, but such a shake wasn't to praise the holy grounds with prosperity, but instead flush itself out from what darkness could be amassed.


Contrary to theological absence, the philosophical beliefs he advocates melds with one another to create a definitive image of what he perceives as 'correct'—far from that of any complex. Unlike many, he understood his limitations, and made certain to never exceed them unless forced. The realms in which deities granted his power wouldn't allow the existence for something incomprehensible to flourish without consequence, to which he was left with the only fear a man could have. Despite this, he strived for so much more. Ambitions pushed aside, the dark spacial breakthrough in the dimensional plane seemed to have kneeled to the whim of this personification, causing the heavens to weep ever so fiercely. Downpour grew steadily as the grounds were fertilized with nurtured molecules of sentient aqueous, to which he made his duty to uphold at any costs, along with the people native to this land. Scorned by his forefathers, and scorned by the only person he ever loved, it was time for a reprieve. Penitence, one could say, would be made on this fateful day, for the cries of man would resonate with a tone of solace of his wake, and therefore, he'd fulfill his debt to what remained unchecked.


The armies of both man and monster stirred up, riling the cries as an influx of dimensions intertwined to breed forth minor figures of anthropomorphic appearance; fleshed out in lavender, their faces remained obscured by a cloud of darkness that seemed to trail along the entirety of each being. Perplexed as to their miraculous advancement in intellect and combat prowess aside, the army in which he called upon cried out to their opposition with weapons held up high. This was the true turning point of the war, despite the efforts the mysterious man has managed to accomplish. Once more he raised his falchion to the heavens in as a last ditch effort to bring to the forefront, the true zeal of which these people have kept restrained for so long; droplets flung from his being in a heap, blade and all; tones of a true warrior were orchestrated with all his might:


"Again, people of the Holy Land, hear my cries! The battle is almost won, do not let up! Purge your hearts of what darkness remains through voice, and express that through the will of which each of you carry within your weapons, so that we may triumph not as individuals, nor as a nation, but for the pride of what was established as one of the greatest! Rush the opposition head on with relentless strikes, and do not let up! Do not let the fallen be taken for granted, and raped of their cause to forge the personification of perfect as demonstrated by the fallen seraph statue seen in the city plaza! Now, let us take back what is owed, and vanquish the darkness in its entirety for good!"


Flooded by the cries of man, the cries of which seem to resonate throughout the Holy Land pleasantly, as a representation of what purity is, it was time to finish this fight. A battlecry was released from the bowels of this individual who proceeded to direct the cause in all forms toward the origin of despair. Endowed by ancient garbs with Celtic writings inscribed along the bottom, this allowed for one's natural capabilities to heighten, in which he pushed off in a merciless dash toward the pinnacle of evil. With Ephemeral situated behind him, opposing digits motioned up with encroached fingertips bending slightly near the orifice to release a myriad of weapons varying in degree of killing potential. All unique in some way, shape, or form, these weapons forged from a realm alluding to his blade's true nature, and self-entitled abilities alike were seen, for he wanted to rile the opposing end up, with all due respect for fellow men contributing to the cause. Visionaries grew heavy, then cold, as he neared the seemingly endless field of cultivated beings fleshed out by their master's essence. Despite this, they hadn't became much stronger than their weaker counterparts, but did acquire some aggression to supplement a knack of neanderthal characteristics.


Upon the point of which it became apparent that their distances closed in, the man took to the heavens for refuge, before twirling the embodiment in several twists, displayed immaculately to release juxtaposed weapons, tangible in their entirety, albeit having been forged from an alternate realm. Relentless strikes proceeded to cascade a downfall of pain in 'ode to the seraph that sought the prosperity in this land. Flesh upon those struck by such weaponry tore asunder, beneath the might in which their trajectories ensued an instantaneous death. Spontaneous to some, the onslaught was just beginning. As weapons created an open path to press safely upon, all but several armaments remained floating about the man, lined in accordance to his mass, beside as though invisible knights were to take hold of these blessed personifications of death. True might would press on, while forged might would perish in his wake. The setting for victory amounted—the endless downpour and bloodshed that tainted the grounds of which, soon to be erased by purity. He'd scorn the land that was once defiled by such despair no longer, for nothing of this scale would proceed to encroach further. He, and those joined through some miscellaneous struggle, would carry out the will alongside these people.


Soon, the clashing of metal was heard. The armies had made contact with their opposition. Confident that they'd be well capable of handling the underlings, eyes averted upon the true nature of despair—donned in robes a necromancer would wear, and not much taller than he, the blades stirred about the man in some sentient nature, waiting for what subconscious orders were to be given at a moment's notice. Though, despite being a connoisseur in magic, the evil that purged all righteousness in his grasp wielded a longsword. Perhaps a clash of blades were to ensue. Utilizing the property of Ephemeral, coupled with his own enhanced speed, the former ruler of an old, but similar land took up arms and faded in a chartreuse afterimage, only to appear behind the darkness with the blade slicing forth across its throat in haste. Though, he ducked, and the attempt failed, the blade met in a following swoop downwards to meet that of his opponent's armament. Scintillations flew amongst the clash, seemingly heating either blade at the point of which made contact with one another, and each combatant was pushed back in their respective positions. The swift movements of his foe could not go unrecognized, as he was also swift, but seemed to gauge the foe with familiarity with how one ventured across the battlefield. Free digits clenched as blades faded from their current existence, only to reappear in an omnidirectional strike for the most vulnerable of parts, and given their phantom property, two of the seven weapons remained underground, only to shift to their tangible state once freed from compressed sentiment.


Though, this also ended in failure, as the cloaked figure took notice of their sentient property and proceeded to repel the blades in unison with a thrust of gravitational expression. The framework on one of these weapons so great, had been destroyed by the almighty push the darkness succumbed to implementing. Considering how both fighters gauged one another, this wouldn't end with a clashing of blades, but rather with realms they were far more familiar with: Magic. Crushing the integrity of Ephemeral through the clenching of its hilt, the circular hilt was all that remained before being stowed, and he met the firmation with several backflips to safely distance himself from his opponent before motioning his right arm out to its fullest extent, and called upon the ancient art of light magic to subdue this atrocity. The Gods could never forgive such a being that came into existence, that stepped onto the plane in which they ran in accordance to all things good, and therefore, extermination was inevitable. Chartreuse seals of complicated writings and geometrical symmetry circled his being in bountiful amounts, stacking upon one another with millimeters to spare. Their powers resonated in unison to one another, to which he released into the atmosphere, seals and all.


At the same time, the opposition began to conjure forth some concoction of evil that would be for naught, but nevertheless, a warrior had to respect the efforts of his opponent, without prejudice or prominent faults. The sword in which failed to strike his being formed into a staff at a moment's notice, while plunging its bottom-face into the firmation, he twirled the staff meticulously, while uttering words of ancient wisdom—an incantation of sorts. The essence of evil filed its realm of the atmosphere, irking the heavens to strike with ferocity as seen through numerous thunderclaps strewn about the outskirts of their setting. Obsidian bolts protruded from the rod's orb, perpetuating the conjugation of something ominous. While bloodshed remain present around the two, with both sides falling with respect to the consequences of war, that very aspect was what comprised war, after all. Two sides; conflicting ideologies; a quarrel, and something significant of the winning side, despite their losses. With such a fate in store, the evil being began to shape a serpent of monstrous proportion, its facial construct weighing on the faint-hearted through its depiction of true calamity. The time was nearing, their spells were about to clash.


Left middle and index fingers pressed up against the callous orifice that remained distinguished from many, endowing the sky with a crimson tint as an effect for the incantation he recited to bring the spell to full power. Crystalline shards began to rain from the heavens, and descended in a mixture of both aqueous and solid matter to precipitate the collaboration of not only magic, but science as well. Though this did little to assist with the potency of his attack, the heavens opened with small holes strewn about its immaculate display of natural forces. Though, he was in control of nature this time. For a brief period, allow for such a man to rejoice in the endowments of his efforts. Palms pressed onto the gaia beneath and his essence was spread throughout its composition, providing a crimson seal to which illuminated with the furousity of a thousand suns. Luminescence spread throughout the diaphragm as well, resonating his powers in relation to the ancient technique developed in adolescent years. Though, he was still quite young, and competent enough to perfect such a technique at its fundamental stage. Soft words orchestrated the title of this technique, defined as a spell only those of empyrean status could ever wish to grasp, and it was, in-fact:


"Purge these sins in 'ode to those of purity, Invaldi. Cleanse this manifestation of darkness and transmute its evil into good, for the Holy Land!"


And with those words spoken, the skies opened up spontaneously, to sport the release of crimson shards to which rained subtly upon the plane. The threshold remained silent for a brief period, before complete devastation underwent—the Gods released their fury through the technique that acted as a conduit between a higher power and a mere mortal. Crimson flashes occurred, that caused the skies to bleed as an onslaught of cataclysmic rain that scorched such atmosphere with its power. Light encircled the two as the tangibility of his technique became present. Arms came to fold over one another as he watched on, the very fabrication of this enclosed realm he provided proved fatal to anyone who was trapped within its menacing threshold. Light poured from the skies in monochrome shades of crimson, assuming its heat would incinerate that of his opponent's existence if such a concentration of rays were to strike, but would inevitably be met with resistance. His opponent is strong, after all. It was only normal to be faced with a stubborn presence, pushing for a hopeless cause that brought shame upon its people.


"You tempt the presence of one with greater power? Impressive as you may be, I will surpass the Gods, and bring forth true despair in all it's entirety! Serve me well, my dearest... Crush him and his feeble 'gift' bestowed by the Gods!"


The creature of which he conjugated to a realm unwelcoming for those who proceed to purge its fundamentals was met with resistance—the serpent clashed head on with the ray of crimson that shone down the two, or three, rather, for which his sentient construction were to be accounted for. The clash of two epic powers sought the end of all things, as endless streams of malformed energy resonated between the two, perpetuating an enticing clash that would decide the fate of these people, and the rest of the world if none were to vanquish the darkness. The struggle became so great, that difficulty with distinguishing who is triumphing over who became impossible. His resonance with the light paved the way for so many mortal men, scorned by tragedy, and would hope to rise up in times of urgency. This clash between two individuals who resonated with power far beyond that of the average man's comprehension couldn't proceed to interpret the philosophical struggles both clashed with on a psychological level. Warfare with the mind was just as important as physical attributes and a repertoire to match. Only time could tell the resolution of either being, to which could only be spectated, not assisted.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:28 pm

Tasimo:


There came no answer from the gray haired man carrying many swords upon his back, and dressed in black. But that was fine. For he noticed another individual who had been speaking out, calling to the remaining populace of the world. Could it be that rallying such a force would be enough to topple such a monstrosity? It seemed that there was still hope, hope of overthrowing this evil and hope of revitalizing the world. So with that in mind he gritted his teeth, giving a feral growl and set on offering what contributions to this cause that he could. He dropped to the ground on his hands and knees, his form once again changing(this changing of forms was an asset to his mother's side of the family, the Tora-Jin, a race of anthropomorphic tiger people from the planet Tora-Seken whom had the ability to change forms. This race of creatures was eradicated by the Saiyans, of whom his father's side originated from).


He dug his claw into the ground, that tiger's roar of his slowly changing into a deeper, more guttural one as his form grew, the strands of fur changing in molecular structure and density and thickening out, widening into scales tougher than iron. The tiger's tail lengthened, maw extending and neck lengthening out, wings sprouting from his back until he showed himself to be a Goliath of a beast, a dragon of fifty feet in height and one-hundred and twenty-five feet in length, the bulk of the length being attributed to his tail. His wings were about double the length of his body, each capable of picking his massive form off the ground. With glowing eyes he looked down to the beings around him, those gathered to fight against this evil that threatened the very existence of the world. With a push off from his rear legs he took to the air, wings catching the air currents and flapping downward to bring him up into the air. And once he was at a level with the evil once contained within the earth he angled his wings forward, starting at a glide forward and filling the gas sacks within his throat. A scraping of the stone-like material along the opening of his gas sacks caused a few sparks, igniting the gas and causing it to erupt in a stream of fire from his maw in an angry torrent of flame which engulfed the spawn of the beast that had only moments before been a blight upon the land. The flames burnt the spawn of that evil to asunder, the anthropomorphic tiger that was now a dragon continued to do this, even taking those of the evil hell spawn that were now airborne.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:29 pm

Drako Falconus:


A gate of prowess, borne through the enchantment of the one who displayed such cunning and skill, had opened its doors within all skies. A crimson sight brought wonder to the silent warrior who spoke not but had vanquished the very mother of destruction which laid endless chaos to the world. The parasitic evil had ended but within its dying wake came the upbringing of the soul-deprived demonic. The army of dark will had threatened to gorge upon the position with their great masses. Although all blades were sheathed within their casings of obsidian, with no time lost had the mighty one plunged those booted feet into the ground, only to vault into the air with the speed of a lightning bolt itself. The red streaks that once bled their color throughout the atmosphere above had dissipated, and all that remained were clouds held high atop the battlefield's raging wind and conjured magics.


Thereafter came the descension of blazing energies, great enough to be told in legends for hundreds of years to come. This city of an arena was the floor of all bloodshed and lost lives, and with torrential force had the proud one taken blade in hand and cleaved it through the flesh and bone of those who lay at its sides. Energies trailed once more like the path of a sea's fluctuating waves, all behind the man that strode forth only feet above ground. With a speed never seen in all the years of the world, the onslaught that continued to arise from its earthen grave had fallen in its sin. The deceased worm had brought the corrupt to a new life of revival and a great thirst for blood that was never quenched. The downfall of the parasite was the awakening of a far greater evil. The planet choked, all as dark beings arose from the soiled earth wet from celestial rains.


Sent from the heavens themselves, the rains summoned by the strengthened one who arrived only moments in the past had fallen upon the darkened land with a veil of hope and glory. They seared the flesh of the beasts that came from the world below, an underworld of torture and agony. With sharpened edges had those tempered blades of fine steel cleaved through and shattered the souls of the beasts themselves. Their bodies were thus hollow, held not by the blackened life force that once dwelled within them. They were sent within the ground, melted into blistering pools just as the mother parasite that summoned them in its painful death. Grass was drenched in their blood and ruin, and the air which this warrior had blazed through ignited no longer with energies, but with the disappearance of a body. Thus had the brave one been seen within the sky above, onyx eyes to be a plague in the last moments of the ones who threatened the very foundation of the world itself. With a descension of blurring speeds had the mighty one torn asunder the rains and shook them to the side with flaming energies, blades of fine creation aimed at the earthen ground where the beasts from below had arisen. Soon the crust of the earth was impaled, and an earthquake raged throughout all the land. A fine prowess had shown itself on this fated night of death and torment, and within moments the quake had transcended into the skies with glorious light of azure and cyan. The earth's crust had parted, and its life force was summoned with such an impact of old tales.


The light that shone forth from the core of the planet had arisen in energized blades. They took the shape of a katana, and their numbers were vast enough to lay to rest all who threatened the lives on these streets. They were as though spikes, wrought by the colossal strength that once lay so dormant within this one's blurred body. But soon, that image of silver hair and shimmering leather garbs had become clear once more. The fine metal of a blade was withdrawn from the wetted soils of the ground, and within moments, the cyan and azure judgment came from within. It protruded and thrust itself as if the planet's own vengeance, and chests and bodies were staked by the new technique just shown by the warrior. But even in light of this mass of hanging dead bodies, the comrades who this one did not know were unharmed, placed aside death's door and spared with the controlling mastery wielded. The opposing army of sin had fallen in simultaneous defeat, their soul-sucked bodies to remain suspended for all to see. The rains once borne by the technique of another man had continued in light of the destruction forged by this one, and soon, all bodies were drenched. Water dripped from their lifeless bodies that were bare to the eye, falling to the ground in a splash unheard by even the most keen of ears. The droplets continued until the sky cleared itself of its downpour.


Yet still the dark ones continued to raise themselves from Hell's grasp, placed unto the earth in a number of great calamity. They were infinite and unending, their fury to be a punishment to all who walked in living life. Even the mighty dragon that had taken to the skies from the shape of a hybrid man and incinerated hundreds was not enough to destroy them all. Still, the grand wings of the creature had wisped through the wind in a mighty gale. There stood the one in leather attire, idle in the grand pool of bodies wrought.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Wed Dec 22, 2010 3:12 am

—ooc; Continuing the role-play with my follow-up post.


Push through...—!


Amassed crimson tore through the atmosphere as both combatants pushed onward with their respective abilities. Lightning of complimenting shades 'tinged the earth that it struck, up swept by its corresponding medium that drove the perpetual harbinger upon its opposition. Wisps of aeolian forces drove past the two energies that collided—light versus darkness. A common motif by many who sought the presence of good and evil, to ensue a life struggle between two enigmatic concepts, personified and shaped into beings that the mind and heart believe are absolutes. A crescendo of conflicting volumes built as the struggle continued, furthering the confusion that took place outside of the realm he shaped. Outside forces that so much as grazed his divine realm were scorched—only those who are "pure"; tainted spirits and those who have fallen to the darkness met with misfortune. Insurmountable jolts were to overtake those who needed to be cleansed and were purged from their current existence. Life bequeathed itself of the tainted, soon to have struck the ground in collaborative thuds of which had whittled away in violent winds.


Although the struggle that lay within this divine realm seemed to have a tip in the scales, it couldn't be sustained forever. As their confrontation continued, temperatures within the crimson space surely had risen to a point beyond human comprehension. Pores within the man's flesh opened, as his stature remained static, pushing onward with a solemn left palm to thrust his divine creation forth. Perspiration formed inevitably, where dehydration remained a constant thought. He couldn't turn back; it was a do or die situation. Kinetic forces slowly endowed the crimson onslaught forth, that drove through the dragon's focal point to limits one couldn't have possibly confide. Forces that tinged the atmosphere, blotted with velvet rose soon lost its coloration, and evolved into a state of powdered nothingness. White was all that one could make of as the hand that directed judgment brought itself over his tattered countenance. Features narrowed as the dragon was overtaken; it's essence purged of all evil. Clandestine energies alleviated its presence from the holy lands, as its creator was caught in the divine light. Cracks and imperfections began to lay strewn throughout his crimson realm, soon had shattered in one instantaneous blow. Contrary to the power contained within, fragments dissipated as quick as they were to spread.


Pushed forth by the excess fragments, the man was brought to his knees in the full wake of his resolution. Perpetual heat that reciprocated within the enclosed realm brought the heavens in on itself, from which thickened embodiments gathered to close its perforated skies. With such expenditures, his body were considerably drained. To sustain a technique that proved spontaneous for so long were quite a feat, but no where near to the extent it was drawn out. Cinereous visionaries averted to the skies, soon to have wept for the fallen. A sudden downpour that stretched across barren lands signified the mournful loss of a tainted figure. Science argues otherwise, but a deeper meaning could be attributed to abrupt waters. Heavy droplets fell past endless embodiments, both of which that were sentient and at their end. Despite all else, the remnants that the fallen presence concocted still remained, and with what strength he had left within, he'd carry on the fight. From the heavens, Ephemeral fell, its tip encroached through the earthen threshold—something he found symbolic; its chartreuse tinge through Celtic characters resonated in the presence of its owner. Reaching out with his left hand, the hilt was grasped, and assisted in giving him leverage to pull himself together. Soon after he stood on both feet, a sudden burst of energy swelled from within. Perhaps it were adrenaline, although he couldn't tell. The will to continue fighting reciprocated an appropriate amount of fighting strength to continue. Pulling Ephemeral from scathed grounds, he held it in juxtaposition, adjacent to its corresponding forearm before physical augmentations kicked in once again. Wisps of chartreuse distorted his entirety, arbitrarily shifting about his image before calling upon several phantom weapons. The remaining blades in his arsenal were all he would need to clear the remaining bodies.


A feint proceeded through the cinereous eyes of this enigmatic figure, akin to the feeble intelligence that were amiss in tainted beings. He swerved his opposing appendage out, that thrust idle swords throughout the air, only to pierce the skulls of those that were met. Omnidirectional his blades were sent, providing a conduit between himself and each blade. Transcribed, were similar markings that augmented all of his weapons. It wasn't a form of teleportation to be able to move so quickly between each, but rather an "attraction" of sorts, if one were to define it. His essence between each provided a quicker route to move between the opposing armies, and so he moved forth. Clandestine soles wasted no time, nor did supreme reflexes. Swing after swing, bodies were strewn. Tossed and beaten by prowess few could match, coupled with speed that allowed multiple foes to drop in one subtle maneuver. One foe in particular he set eyes upon—one who desecrated the body of a fallen soldier. Quickly he moved behind the anthropomorphic figure, coated in crimson, which were fleshed out by concentrated droplets the skies seemed to have cast. Ascension in his wake, he cleaved Ephemeral into the left shoulder that caused a bloody shriek to emerge from its bowels, and thereafter, were halted by his forceful maneuver. Forearms were thrown about the monster's cranium, only to twist in the most gruesome of ways, cutting off sentience and transmitters from the mind throughout. He wasn't finished, though. As the monster had fallen, it gave him leverage in between its incline, allowing him to push forth. Simultaneously, the blade was grasped as he came to crouch upon its shoulder. Then, and only then, a clean laceration that tore through lavender bone and flesh sent streams of crimson strewn about his features to pour, as the monster's head were decapitated in one fatal swoop. Descending from the downed being, he flipped back to land on both feet, and from there swept his blade out to purge its remnants from his sword, despite its remains that gradually dripped from scorned features. Aesthetics didn't matter, so long vengeance was brought onto those sought for its judgment.


"Rest in peace."


Flicking his wrist, swords raised into the skies with skulls that slowly slid off from their respective harbingers. Sentience dripped from each—wretched beings. Gathering amongst one another, they began to slash in unpredictable fashion, as though each had a mind of their own. Close in formation, a swirl of the index finger appointed their grouped presence to slay the remaining opposition. Relentless these blades were, endowing their victims with the most visceral of deaths. Appropriate for the strife they've caused for so long, gore lay strewn. Individuals were caught; groups were caught; the blades never let up. Telekinetic forces subjected the blades to a perpetual onslaught that couldn't have stopped without diverting the mind of their master. As these bodies were defiled, he looked on at the remaining forces. A swift gesture was given to retreat, as he and the clandestine figure, along with the presence of two others had the situation under control. There was one more surprise he had, one of which would destroy the remaining bodies on a less-violent note.

Digits coiled as the blades were sent up, moving towards the middle of the battlefield. The man stepped forward, walking towards their presence in the atmosphere, although he were situated beneath their reckoning. Conjugation of his fateful weapons were met with the remaining forces he hid within their respective realm. Axes, lances, guns—the works, twenty-five in all, including Ephemeral were called upon to join in their circular formation. A pattern that repeated itself with one to each their own—each corresponding weapon would spiral next to its opposing piece, but would soon break down as the command was heeded subconsciously. Eyes shifted, causing an abrupt distortion in each weapon. Telekinetic forces implied their downpour of microscopic fragments, each of which scintillated in the light that were faintly displayed through weeping skies. Their presence remained as little but a display of broken particles, but their true intention would shine through. As the subconscious direction laid a track that surpassed his entirety, metallic particles pushed through the atmosphere, and passed among the remaining beings that would inevitably be met with death. Of course staving off such an attack, subtle in its nature would prove useless, minuscule wounds, lacerations and orifices were met with an unrelenting force. Particles pushed through any and all openings, through follicles even, and infiltrated the vitals of each. Given they were comprised of metals, their essence in abundance ripped through the internal infrastructure created, rendering any and all voluntary movements, immobile. Ripping through the flesh, the atmosphere became tainted with the scent of crimson that twisted about his tattered diaphragm. Zephyrs surpassed elongated features, shifting his appearance in a culmination of liquids and winds. Little could be said as each individual particle were soon to disperse, transcending into its origin. Thereafter, Ephemeral met the soaked earth by its tip, and both hands pressed onto it where he braced his frame from collapsing.


The war had came to a resolution; the cries of man were heard throughout. Of heart and optimism, not a moment was spared. All were to relish in their collaborative efforts, which hopefully would remain as is for some time.

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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Fri Dec 24, 2010 8:19 am

No longer were the dark ones free to roam the earthen ground which they invaded so cunningly. The fear which lay dormant within every child's mind in this timeless destruction had come to an end. A display of great might between two combatants who were strangers to each other had become the one thing that destroyed an army of thousands arisen. Blades cleaved and bodies were hewn with their sharpened edges, demonic beings purged from all existence with one strike of magnificence. The prowess which tore asunder the battlefield had raged for what seemed an eon in itself, but soon, the battle had come to an end. With the spilling of dark blood and the tainting of once beautiful grass, the Earth had become a hollow shell of what it once was. Even with the defeat of the thousands which arose from the depths of Hell itself, there was to be more destruction in the future. There was no absolution to the end of the chaos this fated night. Dimmed clouds adorned the skies like an ominous wave of darkness, but soon had they come to part, and soon had beams of gray light shone from between their newly opened gateways. There was no sun in sight, but even with its invisible presence, its light was cast upon the war-torn land in a ray of hope for the future. Even through the darkest times, there was always one force which rose and defeated anything to threaten it. That force was embodied in the courage and bravery displayed by the ones who were so talented in their arts of battle this dark, hellish night. Pools of blistering flesh and disintegrating remains had seeped within the crust of the planet below booted feet. The end to the onslaught was reminiscent of the mother parasite which once impaled the world with its sucking fangs of gluttony. A dark gluttony that was to be remembered for all eternity.

"It is not over yet, my friends. Even though the sky shines with an almost-bright light, there are more plotting the destruction of our world. Soon, a force even greater than this one will rise."


Drops of blood fell from the branches of dead trees. Plantlife itself was on the verge of its own extinction, no longer nourished by the planet struck with a sudden destruction. Blades of silver craft were placed within the sheathes which grasped them so tightly for many years of past hardships. Softened flesh, moist in a rain descending from heavenward skies, gripped the hilts of the blades wielded with an iron will. Water lowered itself in glistening droplets from the skies above, and soon the bloodstained grass which held the combatants atop its surface had been cleansed of the blood spilled from the defiled. The demonic army defeated, there was no reversing time's harsh grasp. Time moved ever onward, and within many years to come, there was sure to be an army even greater than the one just faced. Silver threads lowered in a vibrant breeze that blew its glory throughout the calm field of toppled skyscrapers. Glass continued to lay amongst the streets in shards of millions, laden with blood and an image of despair to any who should look upon its surface. The fragments of glass which choked upon the ground in its thickened layers held a memory of great chaos. The events which took place this day were not to be forgotten. Hearts and minds, and even souls of they who continued to persevere within this chaotic realm had been scarred with thoughts of imminent horror for the remaining years of life itself. Inevitable was the darkness which entwined its grasp of gorging destruction upon the once thriving land. Thus, with the insertion of fine blades into their hardened casings had all energized blades once thrust from the earth dissipated. The blazing fury which had risen in titanic might descended until it was naught. The mind was clear, and those silver tresses shimmered within the gray sunlight that pierced the skies, each strand to flow in an eastern breeze afront the onyx eyes which closed.

The serenity of the army's defeat was accompanied by a mourneful time. Although the chaotic thousands had been defeated, the lives of many were caught within the battle that took place. Ravaged, homes became debris, remnants of the destruction which struck upon them without mercy. Relentless, the dark ones fed upon the lives of many. Blood ran in thick pools from beneath the rubble that piled so high. Arms of the murdered were left to dangle in the open air for all to set sight upon. Thus was a stench of death so great that even from miles away its scent was to be caught by all. The hands of fate, merciless in all the forthcomings of the world, had destroyed any remains of civilization. Yet, even through the darkness that raged for so many centuries, trees shimmered in whatever leaves held fast to their branches. Those lids of thin flesh, opening in their wake, had allowed vision to once more cast its sight upon the battlefield. Soles of boots were drenched in the blood of the defeated. The wind ceased, and soon the atmosphere was void of all currents that only seconds before had danced so grand. In the distance were clouds of gray and black. Northern lands bore an image of inevitable doom as onyx spheres continued to gaze upon the horizon of brief victory.

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Let the blades of the old be hewn into the lives of the new. Let the ways of the old be transcribed in the pages of the new. Let the wisdom of the old pass to the new. Let the new be mentored by the old.
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PostSubject: Re: The Fallen Land (contd.)   Sat Jun 04, 2011 7:55 pm

[ Update: This role-play is resolved for now. As such, it has been locked to prevent further posting. ]

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