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Dien
Exalted Player
Posts: 226
Joined: Fri May 12, 2006 1:59 am
Class: Blademaster
Location: The "Who's Online List," Stalking People...

Post by Dien » Tue Jan 16, 2007 9:19 am

When had it gone to hell?

Running, running, faster and ever faster. Sweat beaded across his uncovered scalp, leaking in and stinging the wounds that remained raw and open to the dusty night air. Around him, the screams of his comrades echoed all about. Faces he knew and voices he recognized all resonated in his brain as unknown, and all of them cried out for his help. Nothing to it, though; one by one they were eliminated as he ran, fleeing for his life from whatever pursuer had found them. He didn’t even know where he was going, just that it was out of there. A wall was in front of him just as suddenly as he’d found himself here. There wasn’t any way around it, not even any way through it. He’d designed it that way.

Turning, he could see the body of one of his dearest friends being swallowed by the darkness, and the cold nature of the beast gripped at his heart, wrenching it out of him. Something inside snapped, and the frigid grip was covered in a bath of fire. All about him, embers fell and leapt from the ground, itching to escape its grasp to combat the beast. He was the strongest of their group, and his ignorance had led them all to ruin. No, he wasn’t going to let that happen. It wasn’t too late to save them, to keep them from falling prey to this enemy’s icy grasp. One hand extended itself forward, and the light blue eyes turned their gaze to face him through the haze. Waves of heat rose, distorting his view, and he began to slide forward, shifting the very nature of his being toward this creature. He could feel it, the chill of its scales resonating through the area’s vast expanse. One punch, one plunge and its life was ended. Scales cracked and peeled backward, the watery interior they hid steaming away at his very will. It would end soon, just as soon as the center of its being was destroyed. A snap, and the whole body burst, sending billows of steam in every direction before rising to their end.

“Jed,” came the girl’s voice, and he looked down to see her all-too-familiar face for the first time, “w-what was that?” A fit of coughing erupted blood from her mouth as he knelt by her side. Crystals of ice slowly melted about the wound that caused the infraction, and her body began to phase in and out of sync.
No, no, no, no, no! he pleaded while brushing the crystals away. Warm blood flowed from the wound and down to the floor, and he placed his hand over the wound. It was deep, in between the ribs just below the heart: not an instant kill, but a long, slow one. He begged, pleaded for his powers to be able to heal her, for the strength he’d discovered to undo what damage had been done. She cried out, the wound erupting in flames as he tried to contain it.

“Hold on,” he said, “just hold on!” The urgency in his voice drew forth her tears, and she placed her hand over his, the pain now almost becoming not worth it. Fire died down, and Dien looked to the injury. It had only gotten worse.

“Don’t….worry about me…” she managed, her head falling back, “I’m not… I’m not dead yet.” A weak smile was the last he saw before her body became enshrouded in a white: the same white that overtook everything before shattering like a broken mirror. Shards fell slowly downward, delayed somehow in their fall as they revealed just a dead, dull black. Nothing was left.

__________

So you couldn’t save her after all,” The voice sent a chill down his spine. He twitched, turning to face the foe, “it’s a shame, too. You two were so close…

“Shut up,” Dien commanded, his will to threaten the man finding fulfillment before either of them knew it, and his sword resting comfortably on the man’s neck, “I don’t know what this is, but because it’s one of your cheap tricks I won’t be falling for it.” He only laughed a sickening and depraved laughter, his voice echoing harshly in the surroundings.

You flatter me, Dien,” he continued, only eliciting a glare from the blademaster, “but if this were one of my tricks, then how do you explain this?” Just as suddenly as Dien had moved, so wad the figure’s sword, redirecting both tips upward and slightly to the left. Following their line, the blademaster could only watch in horror as Senna’s body was pierced and frozen solid, only to fall crumbling to the ground below. A mental pang sent him to the ground. God, why?!

If I were you,” said the man again, his golden poncho shimmering in the light of the bonfires, “I’d find a way to get over it.

“I thought I told you to shut up!” Dien shouted, his blade pulling away from the lock and slicing clean through the man’s stomach. Clouds of black smoke poured out of the wound, but the man could only smile. He’d accomplished what he’d come to do.

The blademaster sighed, his delusion over as Senna’s body was formed once again at the power of a spell. There was something different about her movements: something much more natural and realistic. His eyes widened, and a fit of emotions boiled inside him. Rage, anger, bitterness, sorrow, compassion, all of it was alive inside him, and he had to fight with the utmost of his being to keep from lashing out at the creature that had done it. She was infected: another bystander had been ensnared in the trap of the Elites, and this time for no reason other than just having followed them. The blame couldn’t rest on the puppet: it was an AI soon defeated, and it was even less likely that Marionette could be held responsible. No, this was their own contemptible fault: Nall’s for not forcing her to leave, Dien’s for not having warned her of the dangers, Zan’s, Phoenix’ and Reinier’s for not restraining their powers and feeding her curiosity. Hell, they were all responsible!

Eyes pinched shut in an effort to hold back guilt-ridden tears, ultimately only succeeding in making them redder. Was there no way to stop it? No, there had to be a way to stop this, to keep people from falling victim to this disease. He wasn’t any doctor, but perhaps he was one of the drugs the doctor could use? Skin was growing warmer, and for a moment he thought he’d strayed near to one of the bonfires. No, the blademaster thought, looking about him and finding none for a good ten yards, not a bonfire. It was deep: deeper than perhaps anything he’d felt before. Radiating from within him, energy seemed to burn outward and salve his flesh and emotions – even feeding off of them. For a split second, his ears brought him the sounds of his own flesh popping and burning in flame, but a quick glance revealed their deception, and the sound stopped.

“Strange,” he muttered to himself, but even stranger was the fact that he’d been voided of the emotional surge he’d felt before. Yes, he was still resolute and still embittered by Primal’s heartlessness, but no more did rage eat at his insides. Anyone watching him would have noticed a brief orange flare over his eyes, but at that point in time most everyone in the room was focused on their swinging boss. Dien’s own eyes were drawn downward to a more needing target: the girl now stuck with them and without much choice.

So she’s infected, too, he thought, looking over to Senna. Her movements had changed, become much more natural and life-like. That, and she was actually reacting to the room’s stimuli as though she were actually in it. Deciding it best not to rub it in, he walked up and sat down beside her, hand placed calmly on her back.

“Welcome to the club,” he said, a small smirk sadly crossing his lips. A new kind of pain wrenched at his insides, the pain of seeing another person needlessly falling into the clutches of this virus, and he winced his eyes shut. God, how he wished he hadn't started this conversation in the first place. There was only one way for it to go, and he did not want to proctor it.

At first, when she turned to look at him, her expression was confused. “Welcome to... oh.” She smiled, a bit thinly, then added, “It’s fine. All the more reason to kick its ass?

“Yeah,” he said, turning away to stare at one of the nearby bonfires, “I don't mean to foster false hope, but have you tried logging out?”

She shook her head. “No. Not yet. I’ll worry about it later.” she said. “But... thanks for asking. If this is.. well, I might have some questions for you. After. If it’s okay.” He smiled, oddly comforted by her thanks.

“Just to warn you, I hear the first you take after being infected is gonna suck,” pausing, he stood, “probably because you won’t expect the pain with it. Oh, and I’ll answer all that I can when you’re ready, I just thought I’d make myself available.” Already he could feel his heartbeat growing unsteady. What was this empathy so foreign to him? No, he couldn't be distracted, despite the emotional black hole he felt in his solar plexus, he had to focus on this boss. A tear fell from his eye, and he quickly raised his arm to wipe it from his cheek before anyone could notice.

There was a pause from the Long Arm. Then, “I appreciate the warning. But let’s not worry about the rest now, huh?” She laughed, a little thinly. “Immediate concerns. Like what to try next on that thing. Any ideas?

“...none,” he said weakly, “Phoenix seems to be onto something by destroying things, though, so it might be worth a shot to see what else we can get rid of.”

Senna hummed thoughtfully a moment. “If we had a way, I”d say try to electrify the metal bars. But unless there’s something like Phoenix has for Rai...

“I’m pretty sure that's a negative," he said, sighing, but then thinking on her comment a moment. Off in the short distance, a small group of bars remained yet untouched by Phoenix's fire attacks, and it appeared every material was represented, and all in close range to one another – and to Primal. “Senna, what elements do you have as far as spells are concerned?” It was time to play the scientist again.

Ani, Rue, Rai and Juk,” she ticked off.

“Alright, so we’ve got all the bases covered,” he switched equipment to afford him Gan Rom, and turned towards the group, “if I’m right, then the only thing needed is the right element.” His arm raised towards the test target as the dragon's fire consumed the wooden bar that had been there. Still three for four, he thought before speaking again, “See that cluster of bars over there? One at a time, we’re gonna try out different elemental spells on them.” His mind worked quickly to sort through the SP requirements, formulae playing their dance before him as they hadn’t done in days, “if you cast two elements, I’ll cast my Gan spell, and then you can cast your other two. If this works, we'll know exactly what needs to be applied to what.”

There was no hesitation, just a nod. “Just give the word.

“Now.” The first spell was cast: Ani Zot. The rising claws fell just high enough to touch the bars in the group, and yet nothing happened. Most probably, the bones would have reacted in some way to the sheer death being thrust upon them, but no such reaction came. Next up was GiRue Kruz. The massive crystals of ice formed about, and then crashed into the cluster, shattering on impact with the few bars that remained in the vicinity. Before Dien could cast his Gan Rom, though, something strange happened. Small shards of ice landed on the stone bars, before melting into them. Before either player could blink, the affected bars of clay broke apart and fell, a thin coating of ice over all the pieces.

Success, the blademaster thought, making a mental note of his findings, before proceeding onward. Gan Rom was the next spell to be cast, and the stones erupted from the center of the cluster. As the rocks bowled about, he could see some of the bars being pulverized: all made of bone. In a single moment, the spell was over, and only one type of bar remained. The stainless steel or aluminum pipes remained floating at random intervals in the target zone, and Dien smiled. Next up was Senna’s Rai Rom. Half expecting it to electrocute the unpronounced metal, he was disappointed when, in fact, nothing happened at all: well, nothing visible anyway. Only one element remained: arguably one of the weakest in the game, and there was no logical reason why it would do anything to that which remained. Juk Kruz was called, and clusters of branches shot inward from unbeknownst origins at the remaining metal bars, only shattering themselves on impact and doing nothing to their advantage.

From: Dien
To: Party
Re: Jungle Gym
Message:
All that matters is the element and what type of bar you’re trying to take out. Rue spells destroy stone bars, Vak spells destroy wooden bars, and Gan spells destroy the bone bars. I can’t speak for the metal bars, as the other elements seemed to have nothing on them, but that at least will even up the odds a little.


At that, the message was sent, and the blademaster sat near one of the fires, content to have done his investigative part.

(OOC: Edit: Just a clarification. The beginning of my post is a dream-flashback thingy to help set off the story for my upcoming solo. It does not depict events that anyone else can see. It is not in reference to anyone else in this quest. He is brought back to reality when he sees Senna get killed. That is all.)
Image
Image|||Level 35 Blademaster (+200 EXP)
Wishlist: EXP, Ends of Earth, Armor with Status Effects

User avatar
Nighthand
Master of Games
Posts: 1265
Joined: Mon Mar 31, 2003 9:23 pm
Class: Bladesmage
Location: ...Tracking...please wait...

Post by Nighthand » Wed Jan 17, 2007 4:45 am

(Ooc: For the sake of flow, I'm considering Dien's post to have happened before Rayo's. Since he had asked me about it, but Rayo had posted before Dien did.)

Rayo's flashmail reached the eyes of Nighthand instantly, like flashmails had a tendency to do. Nighthand, in accordance to Rayo's thought, remembered that he did indeed possess the instrument in question. He pulled it out and began playing, but the music seemed to have no effect. Indeed, it seemed oddly muted coming out of the silvery flute, despite the music having little to do with physical air movement. Or, perhaps, because of that fact. Either way, the drums overrode it long before it could reach the boss. No, this wasn't the solution.

Nighthand remained by the doorway, their exit, after the semi-successful attack on Primal. Another plan was brewing anyhow.

With the discovery that the wooden bars burned, a new tactic was adopted. Zan moved himself into position, resting on a metal bar a short distance from Primal. Dien and Senna sent off several spells; exploding into being near Primal, they systematically eliminated the boss's options for escape. The finale came from Rayo's swift assault; a trio of high-power summons forcing off even more escape routes for the boss, and promising a swift destruction should he remain in his place.

Primal, true to self-preservation instincts, leaped from his position. Forced in the direction of Zan, the heavyblade prepared himself for a confrontation that would likely end in his death, considering the weakened state he was in. Primal leaped, but stumbled; the bars he reached for were no longer there! Scrambling for a metal bar, the ape-like boss caught one and leaped for the next; the bar where Zan was sitting.

The off-balance and wounded boss neared Zan, and the unthinkable happened; the music dimmed to nothing. The very trick that Primal used to catch his victims had been used against himself. Zan saw the chance he needed, and he took it. Forsaking the blade that could be parried, he lanced out with an arm, beefed up by his clabro form, and pounded the leaping figure in the gut.

While the trio of summons impacted each other with a horrendous explosion, Zan and Primal tumbled from the bars. Zan was able to snag another, several yards down, but Primal was not so lucky. The rag-doll like figure fell limply, striking a bar and bouncing off with a snapping noise that could be heard even over the settling noise of the summons. He continued to fall until he impacted the ground with a sickeningly dull thud. He didn't move.

Zan, nearest to the boss and fearing the chance might slip away, followed at a slightly safer pace to the floor. Blade ready, he approached the limp form, but the boss was crippled beyond repair. One by one the rest of the group exited the jungle gym, while Zan stooped. A fist closed over the earring and yanked it free.

”Nighthand, catch!” The werewolf called out, tossing the earring in the other player's direction. Nighthand caught it, his flute long since put away, and set it in the stone. It flashed a light from deep within the stone, and when he looked again, only three holes remained.

”Now what?” Nighthand asked, but he didn't have to wait long for his answer.

With a sudden flash, all the wooden bars ignited, all the stone bars burst into dust, and all the bone bars crumbled away. The metal bars, deprived of whatever force held them, tumbled to the ground. They fell unnaturally, however. One... Two... Three of them shattered, their pieces flying through the air to impale the chest of Primal.

Abruptly, the broken form of their enemy rose up. Held in the position of crucifixion, obviously broken bones were set by a force unseen. The metal bars all rose up, floating vertically. They converged on Primal and circled the form, abruptly... unraveling? They peeled out like rolls of fabric, their now-flat surface coating Primal layer after layer. The result was an entirely new beast.

Wrapped almost entirely in blackness, save for a streak of white coating one arm, the shoulder, and top half of his head, Primal was drastically changed. From where the sternum was located, down each leg, and alone the black-coated arm, were blue-tinted circles, craters in the figure of the beast. Each arm and each leg now held an extra joint, a second elbow. Hooked fingers ended in claws, feet doing so as well. Odd forms, like small wings, stretched from the back of the second “knee”, forming two black blades on the back of each leg. Yellow swirls lined the outsides of each wing. The impaling shards of metal still protruded, stabbing into a yellowed heart that bled over the costume. A decal, but it was symbolic of where the metal pierced within.

As for the face, only a sealed grin and a single red eye remained, crying a tear of saffron.

The newly renewed monster stretched, each joint cracking in turn. Freed of whatever force had held it, it focused it's eye on Zan; the one who had killed it. It stretched it's arms back, and from the “heart” emerged a blast of fire. The skill was plain; Primal's first form had used it to kill Phoenix. Zan was caught unprepared by the suddenness of the attack and only managed to raise his sword in defense of the attack. Rather than sail past and explode, it split around Zan's blade, the five firey swords tearing through his body to dissipate. The werewolf fell, and Primal's eye turned for the next nearest player. This one had played no role in his death; but that meant nothing now. Ferocity, speed, and the second phase of the skill took effect. Primal's form seemed to stretch, turn into a black streak across the room, right past Canti. The Twinblade had no chance to move before ice coated his form. Primal spun and delivered a kick, shattering the unlucky character's body.

Primal streaked away, always a straight line, slight pauses between “jumps.” It killed no more, but watched, warily, for the group's assault on it's person.

---------------ooc:

Primal Form Two: Boost

Primal Boost is fast; He streaks from point A to point B, without pause in between. If he passes you nearby when he moves; chances are you're dead. As displayed, he has the same skill his prior form does; though he may have more, that's to be determined.

Interesting to note, he seems to avoid crossing directly over a fire pit; rather, he stops right by one.

Image

Rayo
Exalted Player
Posts: 485
Joined: Wed Apr 09, 2003 7:21 pm

Post by Rayo » Wed Jan 17, 2007 5:53 am

Things worked better than expected, the fight was over so suddenly. Even though not a single of his summons actually bruised the animal, the fright caused by the possibility of damage had pushed Primal into Zan’s den with no hope of reprieve. With all of the bars being taken out by the spell casters, Primal wasn’t left with another choice. Once the crazy jungle gym was broken apart piece by piece, the boss no longer had his edge. That being said, Primal’s defeat triggered the next challenge, or perhaps more just the following phase.

A new body, one that found jumping convenient, was visible and ripped through two of the players closest by. The same combo was used on Zan and Canti as was done before to Phoenix and Nighthand. Fire and then ice, at least the fire seemed to be the natural precursor to the flaming blades. It should give them somewhat of a warning for what would come afterwards. Speeding from attack to attack made Primal hard to avoid, but not impossible for some members of their party. Now that the obstacles were gone, perhaps now Nall could join in and at least help defend the monster’s targets.

Yet, such concerns should only be entering the mind second. Defeating the boss was second to keeping alive a force capable of attempting such a feat. Unless Primal proved itself capable in it’s offense to rip them apart faster than the party could recover, the healing game was both valid and highly sane.

Gulping down a Mage’s Soul to compensate for a recovering SP bar, his levels spiked for the short while they could before they were drained away again. The wizard’s first spells were aimed at the team, Rip Maens for both Zan and Canti. Each spell resurrected one of the recently deceased party members, and their own magic stamina slowly began to recover once more. Unfortunately, now neither of them would be able to assist in his barrier plan.

The idea was quite…simple. This form of the speedy boss seemed more inclined to go on the attack, and if left alone would surely rack up an impressive kill count. The last form had only gotten rid of four, but all of those had defensive slaughters. Those that died were lost because they approached Primal; this version of the man shaped creature had killed two upon finishing it’s evolution. The twin blade hadn’t even made a move against it in the most recent span of time yet being the closest target was all that was required to secure the death. If allowed to come close without resistance, Primal could probably add three or four more victims before a decent plan was formulated. Rayo was uneasy with trying to physically bar Primal, for numerous reasons to back his hesitation as more than just a fear of a quick death. Spells seemed the most appropriate, and really were his forte.


“Spell barrage at Primal, let’s not let him close in!”

As tempted as the magician was to just fire up one large wide area engulfing fireball, this type of boss had already proven himself more than a match for a single strike. Draining all of his magical reserves wouldn’t be wise when the time it took to refill was life threatening. Settling for the next best, a quick succession of spells was his selection instead.

“Rai Kruz!”

The first spell would most likely prompt Primal to move, but the attack was such that it was geared to home in on the intended victim after all. The balls of light would angle themselves appropriately and have the best accuracy out of the available types. Any tornado types would be valuable as a barrier, but the Rai Kruz would keep Primal moving and might even land. As soon as The World’s recovery times would allow, the next Rai Kruz was fired and one more just as soon after. Hopefully some of the others would join in, or else Primal might end up taking them out before anything was done at all.

ooc: Plea for survival. Contribute to the “we won’t let Primal get close to us” fund by just donating 10SP. Thank you.
Rayo
Lv.47 Archer 745HP/311SP
Bell, the Silver Grunty of Thunder
Skills/Spells-Shocking Arrow of Voltage(30), Arrow of the Burning Stars(10), MeRai Rom(40), Rai Kruz(10), La Repth(20), Rip Maen(40), MeRai Kruz(20), GiVak Kruz(20), MeRai Don(20), Rig Saem(15)
Weapon/Armor/Book-Golden Royal Bow/Thunder Torque, Thunder Cloak, Able Ring, Ivory Greaves/Thunder Magic
Wishlist: YL Fukuoka, Stormlore, Winter Stone, Silver Grunty

Lord Canti
Exalted Player
Posts: 300
Joined: Sat May 13, 2006 3:58 pm
Location: In da' plains of hell, natch.

Post by Lord Canti » Wed Jan 17, 2007 1:19 pm

(Battle to the beat. The plan was out there, but it wasn't quite followed, not exactly. The chance just never came up as several of the others attacked, Canti waiting for the right time - the absolute time - to strike. It did not come. Nighthand offered to be bait, but the Primal warrior didn't bite. Instead, the lure found himself at the door, realizing that they needed a key off of Primal himself. That was gonna make things a whole lot trickier. It meant that the guardian would definitely have to die before they got out of here. Damn that Marionette... Canti shook his head in disgust, watching as the others had had their 'friend' trapped with Phoenix's power. It was an advantage that did not last, as the boss-creature soon beat the player with spell and sword, killing him again. That was when Nighthand and Senna took after him. The Long Arm got the worst of it...)

Canti: Senna! She's frozen solid...

(Like a block of ice, she fell and broke apart, shattered into tiny pieces, an instant-kill move. The Twin Blade was so intent upon that image, of the ease in which the monster had done it, that he didn't even notice the damage being done to the boss-character. He'd felt something just then, something terrible. That wasn't a normal attack... It was viral...the kind that had put him in a coma... Damn, now Senna was stuck with them too! He didn't want her to be in the same spot as them. She had freedom. She could've left here anytime! Canti now wanted, more than anything else, to kill that monster himself. And when he found Marionette, he was gonna kill him too!! However...there was something wrong.)

Canti: I...can't move... Why...?

(For some reason...he couldn't move himself right now. It wasn't a glitch, nor was it a spell against him. Canti realized, just then, that...he was trembling. Why? What was it that was on his mind so that he couldn't even pull a knife and charge? It was probably their opponent, who had so casually murdered a friend of his with no trouble at all, damning her like he was, only in ice instead of fire. His hands shook, his eyes twitched, and his legs were rooted to the spot. He did not want... He did not want that thing to touch him! That same cold fear that he'd felt in the Rue chamber was back. He was going to die... He'd almost bitten the dust in the lightning room, and now this. He knew it was going to happen. And so, as the others began to ruin Primal's playing field, Canti was unable to act, fear gripping him in a way like he'd never felt before. He was a low level, so vulnerable in comparison to most of the others. Why couldn't he be stronger, faster, more agile? He needed that badly here...)

Canti: But I'll never be able to stand on my own... I'm a failure in life AND in The World. Without these guys, I'd never stand a chance. The Elites would have me in a second...or Marionette...

(The glowing fire that was Canti's anger manifested upon his body slightly, turning his smoldering self into something vaguely Balrog-skinned...for effect, only. He started to feel a little better, enough to carve a few holes into their monstrosity, when all at once...the damn thing was impaled to death! They'd gotten it! Or...wait... What was this? Primal was unraveling, changing itself into something new. Great... It was a multi-stage boss! Another form-changer with an ultimate form released by its prior demise. The native-like warrior became a...harlequin knight! Honestly, despite all the cruel effects on its body, the Twin Blade's first impression was of something that belonged on a card, or in a carnival. So, here they were in the circus of the damned, and someone sent in the demon-clown posse. Well, you know what they say...)

Canti: A fool and his life are soon parted.

(Alright, they don't say that, but it was ironic...in a way Canti hadn't expected. He'd been making a jibe against the new demon-boss, and the thing suddenly reacted unexpectedly. First, it took care of a more immediate problem - Zan - and then turned towards him. The Twin Blade was about to pull his knives when suddenly, the new Primal suddenly executed a skill of speed that blurred him right past...and Canti suddenly felt a shock of terror. Not only fast...but it'd attacked so swiftly...that he was frozen solid before even realizing it! The monster turned, Canti's black eye fixed on it as it stood nearby.)

Canti: C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Break out already! MOVE, DAMMIT, MO-

*CRASH!!!!!*

(The World turned to white...and Canti was gone. Not dead and floating, not grayed-out and fading, not PKed and ghosting. There was nothing left. The boss-character had shattered his body and there was just no Twin Blade in its wake, dead or alive or anything. There was a certain feeling of finality in Primal's execution, an ominous feeling that there would be no follow-up, no rebuttal here. Soon, even the icy pieces of his broken corpse faded. He wasn't coming back. That was it then... He was dead...truly dead...wasn't he? There was no trace of a continued existence, not here or anywhere. His name was even out of the party list...)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(So...that was the end...right? There was nothing here. No heaven or hell. No River Styx with Charon the ferryman. No reincarnation and a brand new life to live. Boy...he would've liked to try that last one. No more pain... No more long nights of listlessness... He would have a family again, and be able to live and breathe like a normal human being. But instead...all he saw was a red-brown haze. The same bizarre haze that he'd been seeing ever since the tower. It was... Well, you could call it the other end of his consciousness. The ground was rough dirt and few plants, the sky was haze, and...there was a miniature mock-up of the tenebrous tower here...)

Caaawww!

(And a crow. There was a crow on top of the top, cawing at him. Come to think of it...there were alot of them around, looking at him. They were waiting for something, perhaps to tear him apart. Huh... Maybe he WAS in hell, and this was his punishment for being an asshole, for having pride for once in his life, and for all those times when he was just a vicious bastard. He couldn't help it, though... The World was the only place where he could be free, and now it had become his prison. What was he suppose to do then? The birds just looked at him, waiting...)

Canti: Well?

"Well what?"

(A sudden voice made him turn. From behind the tower came what appeared to be an ordinary brownish fox. It wasn't anything from the game, he could tell that much. There was an uncanny intelligence about it that...that... Wait a minute. The same one? Every time his mind had flung itself into that hellish haze during the red focus, there were shadows of beings, rather than their World-aspects. And in it, there was always this one other shadow, a fox that spoke to him in the same voice as what he believed was that one ghost from the tower. But...what was it really?)

Canti: Who are you? Are you a ghost, an AI? What?

"Who knows? I could be both, or maybe neither. It doesn't matter. Even if I was merely a product of your own mind, would you rather be alone here?"

Canti: Product of my own... Oh, I get it. "Ye of Psychosis", right... But then, does that mean you're nothing more than a dream I made up?

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you? Let me tell you... Your mind takes some bizarre leaps, sometimes. It's capable of a great deal. I'll leave whether or not your mind can create all this to you. If you're the psychotic one, then only you can determine what's real or not."

Canti: Alright...that's a head-trip. So, what am I suppose to do now?

"What do you want to do?"

Caaawww!

Canti: I know what I want...but that's impossible now.

"Oh? Is it, now?"

Canti: What're you on about now?

"This is your life, Canti. It's not pretty, I know, but you're the only one that can do anything with it. So, if you give up, it is all over. Do you want that?"

Caaawww!

Canti: No...

"Then, do something about it. There's a virus in your system... Use it."

Canti: Alright...

(These crows that kept looking at him... They were red-eyed and evil-minded bastards waiting for blood and carrion. They wanted to strip flesh from the bones of the dead in the wake of the one that would kill all in his path. They... They were the virus, the manifestation of his imprisonment. Well, they were also the fuel of his power, too! And so, the wounded crow amidst his brethren finally mended his wings, and all the masses surrounding him took to the sky! The crows took flight, swirling around him. He was in control here now. Something was pulsing, growing, changing... He looked over at the fox, who appeared to be smirking.)

Canti: Thanks. Uhhh...what's you name, anyway?

"Heh heh heh heh... I'll tell you when you wake up."

Canti: ...what?


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(The room was silent for the moment. Primal's kill had caused the silence, but it also...remained quiet just now. Where was the music? Something was wrong with that... It was nothing the monster immediately took notice of. But...there was a vibration in the floor, subtle...as if something small were darting here and there...or some kind of reaction were starting up. Yes, that must be it, because it began to increase in intensity, a sudden rumbling that was now shaking the floor. It became audible, along with another sound...)

*Doooooooooonnnnnnnnnnngggggyyyyyyoooooonnnnngggg...*

(A strange, reverberating sound that began as sort of a mid-range chime or bell, the octives lowering slightly with every echo...until it was no longer audible and the shuddering of the ground overcame it in terms of sound. The fire pits began to glow brighter and darker intermittently. Something was coming, something very wrong... Something that wasn't ordinarily suppose to happen was...well...happening. There was a gathering of force below them, looking for a way to release its energy, until finally...it found it. Fire pits exploded in conflagration, one after the other, each one letting off a geyser of black-and-orange flames that one might associate...with the color-configuration...of a certain Twin Blade. Finally, the one that was only ten feet away from Primal went off...only this one was in pure-black, the fire seeming like a black wave of corruptive power. There was a shape within it...)

"You know, I really don't like dying like that..."

((http://gh.ffshrine.org/song/530/24))

(It sounded like Canti, a pissed off and strangely unhinged Canti, though... His voice was like a madman's, or a sadistic killer. It wouldn't have any effect on the creature, but it certainly made him feel better to blow off some steam. The tips of black raven-like wings could now be seen at the sides of the black geyser...right before the dark Twin Blade jumped up of it, the fire pits no longer reacting to his self-resurrection. He held no sway over them now. It was just a by-product of his coming-alive party. Canti was alot different now than from his previous incarnation. You could say that he'd changed, like Primal had, only his wasn't like some kind of evil jester. His clothing was still black and leathery, crimson at the bottom with the crocodile boots. He was still tanned and had those black pits for eyes. However, the overall atmosphere had changed around him. It was...sharper, deadler, more like he was an actual demon than anything else. His ears pointed more, and he had evidence of enlarged canines. The black gloves on his hands...looked like they ended in claws. There was a scar on his left arm, near the wrist. It was glowing with fire, appearing as though it were a crack in his program or something, or...a visible manifestation of the infection? Last, but not least in his glorious resurrection, there was the change in his wings. Previously, they were cosmetic, for effect only. Now, they were medium and raven-like, fully-functional and making him ever so much faster. He drew his Bloody Twin, sneering at the boss-monster.)

Canti: It hurt...like hell.

(Wings spread out and SHOOM!! Canti was airborne, like a bullet or a missle, a black blur in his own right. His aim appeared to be to fly straight towards Primal with his blades ready, but that wasn't entirely it. He was flying to a disadvantage of the boss. The way he was doing it, Canti would be striking at the forehead or the eye from a little above the monster, and that wasn't the whole plan. Hit or miss, damage or deflected, he didn't care. The knives were just something to plant between him and the monster to capapult himself higher, as if flinging himself up there. It was done shortly after Rayo's latest cast. Once this stunt was executed, the Twin Blade was now given a bird's eye view of the whole place, casting a Juk Rom spell at the new Primal to keep him occupied. He wasn't just a one-man show. This wasn't just his conflict. This was a battle for all of them, because their lives were all on the line. So, with that in mind, as soon as the spell was cast...)

Canti: Get 'im!

OOC: Just for clarification's sake, this is the Character Edits change under Canti's hacks. A better-built version of him, more capable than his normal World form.
Last edited by Lord Canti on Thu Jan 18, 2007 1:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I'll have a doozy of a sig later, I swear. It'll reflect ".hack//CODE" an' everything.

Hey look! A profile! It's got items and stats and things! Cool! If it isn't fully up to date, it will be, so don't worry 'bout it.

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Senna
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Post by Senna » Thu Jan 18, 2007 2:20 am

Senna once read in the Saturday Crier a story about a man who’d lost his fiancé in a car accident. The accident had been more than a year previous and the story goes through it, focusing mainly on the man’s role. He had pulled three people from their cars, and one of those cars caught fire shortly after he pulled the occupants to safety.

Most of this does not interest Liss. She is sixteen at this point, reading it for school. One thing catches her attention though, one curious statement by the hero. He’d pulled his finace from their car and gotten her to safety before anything else. She had died on impact. It was only her body he brought out of there.

Liss shakes her head at what her classmates probably think of this – how terribly romantic, that he wants her safe no matter what. Liss finds this attitude foolishly sentimental. His answer, she thinks, makes far more sense.

When asked if he knew his fiancé was dead when he pulled her from the car, his answer is straightforward, if vague. “I don’t know.” In further explaining, he says he should have known. There was something in the utter limpness of her body, he says, the stillness of her face. If he thought about it, he would have known, he says. But he couldn’t think about it. There were other things to do. He’d saved lives. Had he thought about her death, had he thought about the fact that his world had moved on and could not go back, he could not have done that.

This, she thinks, is a wise way to act.

While she does not remember this story five years later, she remembers the lesson. And she puts it into use now, as the niggling suspicion in her mind begins to blossom. There are many reactions this can bring, and none of them would be good now. None of them can be tolerated. She has seen what happens when people lose focus, and whatever might be the case with her, it is in her best interest to play the part expected of her by the group.

This, she finds, is difficult. Things feel… odd. She ducks around a set of bars and uses a Mage Soul as more of an experiment than anything. It doesn’t feel any different. This she finds mildly surprising, though she is not sure what the sensation equivalent of SP should be. Experiment concluded, she takes a seat on the ground, hoping a different angle on things may help.

It doesn’t.

When Dien approaches her she thinks it is perhaps with something new to try. Perhaps some way to truly catch it. She doesn’t even startle at the pressure of his hand when he touches her back, though she wants to.

It’s not a new idea though. He had, in fact, come to talk about the one thing she does not want to think about right now. At his first words, she feels anger like a prowling animal begin pacing in her mind. Don’t bring it up, she wants to say. Just leave it alone. Are you trying to make this fight even harder?

But no. The other part of her mind, the part with thankfully more self control, asserts itself on Dien’s behalf, and on her own as well. He’s not here to cause anything. He’s here as a friend, as much as that word could be applied to the situation. Or perhaps, this part of her mind muses, the better word is to offer support as a comrade. He is treating fair with her. It’s more kindness than he needs to show.

And once the anger is gone, quick and fleeting, it’s replaced with what should have been there at the start. Gratitude. What anger stays with her is now directed upward, at Primal, their enemy. As they talk though, Senna begins to wonder a little. Dien seems… not uncomfortable, not exactly, but there is something. She curses, not for the first time, her inability to “get” people. She decides to just stick to being herself. Not the best plan always, but it works most of the time.

She wonders about him… about all of them, actually. People. Not characters. People. The truth of it is becoming sharper now.

With a bit more time, Dien offers a suggestion, and Senna, with plenty of SP and no target, is eager to agree. Perhaps she goes a little overboard with the Rue spell, but in the end, the result is a good deal of damage.

She feels well pleased.

The pleasure increases as the carnage grows – Zan attacking, Rayo casting summons as though intending to gather them all in the room at once. And this time, Primal falls instead of one of them. A feline smile grows on her face, but it is short-lived. Zan. Canti. It happens so fast, she scare can credit her eyes. A trick, leftover from the dazzle of spells. It has to be. But it’s not. They are dead, briefly. Canti falls as she had. A stab of sympathy follows from the Long Arm. She had not seen it from the outside before. Primal’s action seems to dismiss Canti as just a piece of the landscape. The smile is gone. She stares. Glares. Primal will be stopped, she thinks. Must be.

It or them.

Things begin happening again. That is the way with this battle it seems. A flurry of activity, then a lull. This time, going up again. Rayo calling for casts. Canti… what was going on? She couldn’t follow, couldn’t process. Attention to the task at hand, then. Try to time the cast NOT to involve others. Good? Good.

GiRue Kruz.

Ice for ice. It may not work, she thinks, but it is fitting.

((OOC - My apologies for the odd style. Back to normal next post, I promise))
Senna, level 33 Long Arm (710 HP/180 SP)
Most common kit: Ichigou, Racoon Earcaps, Air Bracer, Snow Panther, Winter Coat, Graceful Book
Spells/Skills: (Critical Hit/Death) Repulse Cage, Ap Corv, Ap Vorv, Rai Rom, Rue Zot, La Repth
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Zan
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Post by Zan » Thu Jan 18, 2007 10:52 pm

Zan watched with a blatant smugness as the damn thing fell from the bar, a saving hand keeping him from the same gruesome, audible fate the Primal met at the floor. It had underestimated all of them, had underestimated their ability to tear his advantages down to laughable remains. Falling down to the floor, landing with an almost alien grace, Zan snatched up the earring and tossed it readily to one of their leaders. Nighthand, without question, simply walked over to the Hub door, placing the item in its necessary slot. A shine of light later and the door had smoothed over, leaving only three visible slots remaining. Did it mean three more forms? Sadly, that answer was most likely a 'yes.' Glancing over at Primal, his worries were quickly confirmed. As the room's remaining bars swirled to seemingly resurrect (or add to it, if nothing else) the boss, Zan's fist came to a worried clench at his sides. If this thing was as predictable as it had been thus far, then he was going to die. It was going to go after the one that had taken it out and Zan was just going to poof. Die. Dead. It was an odd sort of knowledge, being more than worried of death, but ensured of it. In its own way, it made it easier.

As the second form lofted itself into life, its design as alien as his landing and misshapen all of its own, Zan didn't attempt to move himself. Avoidance, as he had seen through the experiences of his companions, just prolonged the inevitable. He would die. Rayo or somebody else would bring him back. Easy. Just don't move. Don't move. Don't move. The flames that consumed him then were only momentarily painful, the death almost mercifully quick and easy. Closing his eyes, unwilling to chance his death would toss his mind somewhere else, the Heavy Blade waited until the familiar breath of life yawned its way through him. Only then did he open his eyes, pupils adjusting to the new sight around him. A small number of things had changed. First and foremost, Primal now seemed little more than a black blur. The second being the winged form of Canti, one of their newer members lofted up in the air. He was almost as fast as Zan's raven form (something sadly inaccessible), something that was impressive for the first use of his newfound ability. Well, it was about time that he showed some real applications of his infection. Now, if only Dien would stop being scared or lazy or whatever-the-hell and get into his pain form, they might have a really nice addition to their firepower.

Wandering eyes then, not immediately wanting to act quite yet, found Senna. She too now reeked of Twilight. It was fresh, it was new, but he knew that the real world was lost to her. Did she realize it yet? Allowing himself to only be sad for the girl for a moment, too immersed in the combat around him for any longer, Zan turned his attention then to the battle-wise Wavemaster. The triple splash of Rai attacks inspired the lycanthrope with an idea, his plans only halted by the steady rise of his SP. He could cast two of the spells he wanted to at this point, but not quite the third. Not yet. He needed some more time, just a few more seconds. If he timed it right, the Rai attacks would still be active, if only just barely so. A little more...a little more...yes. The first call of MeRue Rom, and the second, and the third, were cast to circle in the rest of Primal, leaving one side open to a bonfire so that the last (the third casting) MeRue Rom could position itself above Primal. This way, if it moved in any which direction, it'd have to be hit by one of either his or Rayo's spells or go through the pit fires (which Primal seemed so eager to avoid). Well, that was the plan anyway. Zan wouldn't be surprised if it found a way out of it, really. The one thing it couldn't do (or could it?) was stay still, the force of the MeRue Roms and Rai Kruz's closing in on its current position. If it got out, it'd be impressive, but not surprising.

Turning his focus to the fire pits then, Zan tried to find a more permanent solution to the Primal form that ailed them. His little spell bombardment didn't seem necessarily effective and, like the last form, he expected there to be some sort of weakness or way to take advantage of the monster. The way it zipped around wasn't predictable, but there did seem to be a pattern about it. It moved generally in straight lines, not able (or willing, perhaps) to do anything in the realm of zig zags or what not. The next thing to take in mind, of course, was its apparent fear or wariness of the bonfires. Did it not like fire or was it just the general caution towards damage that kept it from going through? The whole 'not liking fire' bit seemed a touch farfetched, what with one of its attacks being of the element. Like before his brain seemed to fail him, not really bringing the two observations together in any helpful way. Besides trying to box the bastard into the flames, he was lost to any real solution. Zan would have flashmailed his thoughts to the others, but it was more likely than not that they could just see where his actions were leaning towards. Spell burst. Fire pits. A recipe for fun.

With better timing than Zan would have expected, he felt that infected tidal wave begin to come forth, a churning of his insides and a paling of his flesh letting him know that it was time for another metaphorical injection. The call to Ol Repth and he felt renewed, if only to a certain extent. It didn't feel as relieving as the last time, but he had known that such an effect was coming just the same. Able to think again, he still found himself unable to come up with a more permanent solution to the second form of Primal. Hopefully someone else who wasn't diseased and conflicted on a cellular level would be able to bring things together more effectively. For now, the lycanthrope simply avoided any hint of the Primal and focused instead on surviving while he tried to think, to be more useful than running and ducking, weaving around flames as he went. Zan didn't necessarily have to run too much, plenty of other people serving as distractions and assisting in the assault on Primal. It was enough. It worked for him right then, right there. All the lycanthrope had to do was hold on to his little wary tactics for now.

It was then, with the heat of the battle fresh and his mind able to wade through it, that he indulged in some wandering thoughts. It was all well and good that he was helping the Freedom Fighters, that he was able to give back for the shelter and the safety the group as a whole had given him from the administrators and the looming force of the Elites, but he couldn't help but feel he wasn't where he was supposed to be. The fact that he needed to go somewhere to rid himself of the PVM aside, there was someone being sensory deprived and starved that seemed much more important to him. Why was he so bent on repaying favors to people that could survive just as easily without him when he should be going after someone that couldn't? It didn't make sense, it wasn't logical, but something in him whispered that he was on the right path. It wasn't time to save Lowen quite yet. There was still a path to walk, decisions to be made, experiences to live through. That or he was mentally inventing reasons why it was okay to abandon the one he loved in a place where she was either already dead or dying. God help her. Again he forced himself to squash down the guilt and the thoughts of her in turn.

Primal was the one he needed to focus on. Primal was the one that needed to go down. Only then would he take another step towards Lowen's salvation.
Lv. 50 Heavy Blade
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I: Holy Sap, Treebane, Cooked Bile, Nightbane.
EX: Elemental Summon (Lv. 2), Overdrive (Lv.1), Elemental Attacks (Lv. 2), Enhance Dark, Elemental Breath (Lv. 2).

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Nighthand
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Location: ...Tracking...please wait...

Post by Nighthand » Fri Jan 19, 2007 2:44 am

Barely anything had happened and already assaults were flooding in. And he had barely even killed many people! Such hatred... Or was there even emotion involved? Was Primal nothing more to them than just another monster? Another obstacle that they needed to pass in their fight?

Was the group really made up of such unemotional killers?

Of course, they had no way of knowing the truth. Only Marionette knew the truth behind the creation of his minion. Not even Primal himself knew more than a few vague memories, like deja vu of a life long gone. Even if he had known; the layers upon layers of coding on his character would have disrupted any understanding. Nall had trouble reading Primal because he read it like a monster; it wasn't a monster. It wasn't even an AI, or a construct of some kind. It was a living soul, one of the many slaves that the elites had taken. Marionette had simply appropriated the player and.... experimented. The fourth form was, in fact, the first; the first form was the final, layered over the rest. The fourth was most powerful, as one might expect; the final was the last limiter, placed on the power of that code-wrapped mind.

What lay deep inside the many-layered body of Primal, what lay deep within the code, was a soul crying for help. Too much code, too much data, muffled the ephemeral cries from any of their ears. Not even Nall, with his senses beyond anything anyone aside from Raine and Sheena could know, was deaf to their sound. All he saw was shifting data, variables twisting in ways they never should be able to in a body that was coherent. There was no logical explanation for a monster that at once had 900 HP with a maximum of 0, or that had statistics fit to make the elites, with their own maxed attributes, quake. It was bluff and bluster; the creature would have destroyed them all had any one of the peaks been true. But it was also misdirection, designed to stall their greatest source of knowledge. Marionette knew Nall. Their ethereal stalker knew each of them more than he should have been able to, especially with those who had only joined the party, and the comatose, just recently.

But none of them would ever know. None of them would ever realize that the 'monster' they faced was a twisted reflection of themselves. They would slay their boss and move on, destroying the hub and proceeding to the next, to face whatever challenges they would face, oblivious to the comatose body lying in a hospital somewhere that was washed in the solid tone of a flatline. No one would know the events that lead to that body's death; the doctors would pronounce it simple failure of the heart. Oddities would be chalked up to years in a coma, and the havoc that wreaked with the body. Not even Nall, longest of them to be in a coma, would feel one ounce of the guilt of taking that human life.

To them all, this figure was not human. Primal was mere instinct wrapped in code, layered with skills and abilities above and beyond those of normal monsters. In short; he was day to day regularity to those of the freedom fighters to have traveled to more than one field. And he would fade in their memories once he was defeated; perhaps some would remember the strange boss of this field, perhaps some would wonder who dreamed up this strange creature. Most would remember nothing but the success.

Rai was the first element of the roster to strike, and while the spells came but fractions of seconds apart, that made little difference to a creature that excelled in nothing but speed. Even so, the creature behaved oddly for one with electrical energy about ready to take life from flesh. Rather than even attempt to flee the wrath of Lanceor's domain, Primal stretched out an arm to the incoming spell.

The spell didn't strike the arm, no; it wrapped around it. The current played across the white-coated flesh, until it came to the metal spikes sticking out of the creature's chest. The current arced along these spikes, these shards of metal, until it abruptly vanished inside. Presumably it would have an effect, but no, such was not to be. Instead, a strange thing happened. A fourth spike, formed of identical metal, formed in the wounds. It was like it had already been there, piercing the creature's heart, and merely needed the lightning to reveal it's presence. Whatever the cause, now a total of four spikes protruded from the boss's chest.

Now it moved.

Juk Rom and a barrage of Rue spells appeared about the area, courtesy of Senna, Canti, and Zan. The only trouble was, Primal was no longer there. While the spells seemed to catch the tail end of the creature's blur, if damage was dealt they had no way of knowing. Indeed, this monster didn't seem like damage meant anything. The solution to the first form had meant little in terms of damage; merely besting the monster with logic and action. Indeed, there was no health bar for them to monitor, no way for them to tell the HP the creation had. Nall, their only possible recourse, saw a flickering stream of numbers he desperately tried to make sense of. Though, those who had been with the group long enough would have known that to be a futile endeavor. Nall was about as apt at finding patterns as a rock was.

Nevertheless, Nall was still by the entrance of the room, having hardly moved since they had arrived. He was trying to make sense of his senses, wondering how they could be scrambled. Wondering what was scrambling them. His senses were supposed to be able to see the truth behind anything; past the bluster and the hype. It was how he was able to see the true locations of hidden elites, it was how he was able to spot the one tangible form amongst many illusions. He didn't know that the problem was not with his senses. Nothing was scrambling them; in fact, they were working perfectly. The problem lay with the information they were attempting to retrieve.

Meanwhile Primal had moved out of the way; as simply as it sounded. The spells were formed and let loose in the matter of seconds; but seconds was all it took for the speedy monster to be literally a hundred yards away. He moved in a matter of a streak of color across their vision, the tail caught in a flurry of water and wood, the head appearing where his destination lay. And, surprisingly enough, there was no retribution for the attacks. Yet.

Retribution was not far in coming, however. In fact, they probably should have expected it, each of them. Canti, the arrogant flier, was the first to fall; and fall he would, by the hand of a skill that was already half-demonstrated. One white-coated hand reached up to the spikes in the creature's chest, grasping one of the four. With a soundless cry, it yanked the sharp piece of metal form the yellow stylized wound. It tossed the item into the air, where it promptly disappeared.

A few seconds of delay, and then, a flash of light rocked the room. Thunder soon followed, more immediate to players the closer they were to Canti. The twin blade was at a severe disadvantage now. Two of the three elements Primal had access to were weaknesses of his, and Primal, through watching the flashy display, knew this. Darkness and fire were his strengths; thunder and water were his banes. It was the former that struck.

The power the lanced from the interminable heights of the room and struck the airborne player. Nighthand, on the far end of the room from Nall, was suddenly very glad he had not taken to flight to combat this apparently land-based foe. Lightning, a great bolt from the heavens, the fist of Zeus, Thor, Lanceor, or whatever thundergod Canti looked to in fear, slammed the player to the ground. The power was the equivalent of PhaRai Don; all in the room could see it. Canti alone could feel it. It wasn't, however, a spell; Rayo would find himself unable to absorb it. That is, of course, if he was able to survive.

Perhaps the worst aspect of the terrible force was it's origin. The spike Primal had pulled from his chest was the same one that had been revealed when Rayo had struck home with a simple Rai spell; one of far less power than originated from the sky.

One down, three to go. Senna, Zan, and Rayo had all taken part in the assault. Primal's red eye glowed faintly in the dull light of the room, as he made a trio of motions. Three straight-line jumps, from location to location, avoiding the fire pits. Three simple motions covering over one hundred yards of distance total in the matter of seconds. There was barely a chance of reaction before the creature was next to Zan.

The werewolf experience a moment of sheer, abject terror; emotions welling up in him that were completely illogical. Fear spawned from deep inside the creature now standing inches from him, directly behind him, lone eye focused solely on him. He experienced it in slow-motion bred of helplessness. The black-covered arm reached out almost lazily, touching the man's flesh at the temple. A single claw trailed down the side of his face, a light, almost gentle caress. Primal's head tilted to the side and his mouth seemed to widen a little, as close to a grin as the wrapped-up figure could manage. Then a quick motion, an abrupt jerk, and the claw was in and through. Zan's throat was torn entirely open, and the moment was over; Primal moved on.

Two down, two to go.

Rayo was the next to be targeted; though what reason Primal had for the order was beyond anyone in the room. Perhaps beyond Primal himself. Was his soul even in control, or was it merely what gave life to a mindless heap of codes and controls? Was his soul directing these operations, or was it crying in agony at each motion the code forced through the body? Did it even matter?

Rayo was victim to the same move that removed Zan from the fight yet again. As the werewolf's body still sagged to the ground, Rayo's was joining him. The same drawn-out instant of horror, the moment the prey experiences before the predator's kill. The rabbit looking with a twist of the head at the hawk's descending claws. Primal's claws were less gentle this time, raking across his throat while he was held still in fear; fear inspired by chemicals and code. The wavemaster would cast no more spells, at least not right away.

And finally, was Senna. Senna, the one most recently fallen victim the Twilight virus. The most recent to be raped of her true physical life, forced whole in soul into this horrible Game within a game, the twisted gambling with lives the Elites played on a daily basis. It was easy to forget while in a game, that the lives they were taking were beyond just simple Pks, beyond the death of a character. When they slaughtered one of their slaves, a human life was removed from the earth. Senna was merely lucky in that she still had her class; that she had fallen in combat with the freedom fighters, and would live to fight on.

Primal seemed almost gentle with the long arm he had so recently destroyed. He appeared in front of her, reaching out with both twisted claws. One grasped each of her shoulders, tight so as to keep her in place, but not so much that the claws caused her pain. No, the pain was coming from somewhere else. The hand placement was not random.

Electricity jolted from the central spikes in the pulse of Primal's heart, arcing along his arms and into Senna's digital body. The pain must have been terrible, but the long arm didn't scream. She didn't cry out. She didn't even collapse from the pain, or drop her weapon. Her HP was drained in a stream of 1-damage hits, until she was left at a simple total of 10. Critical levels. That wasn't all, though; oh no. Still she stood, in the same position, after Primal released his grasp and moved away. For her had been reserved another of the boss's skills. Senna was paralyzed; left at critical damage but removed from the fight nonetheless.

Primal once more took up position some distance away from the group, and stood still, as if inviting them to attack. It's head scanned them all, it's mouth twisted into that semblance of a grin. It showed what the price was for a failed attack; the had two choices. Win, or die.

------------------ooc:
Primal Paralysis is a special paralyzing skill. It cannot be cured by the normal item/spell, and it does not wear off over time. It can only be cured by a darkness elemental spell. Senna, somehow, inherently knows this, but of course she's paralyzed, making it hard to say so. Also, attempts to cure her with items or repth do so, but cause her great pain.

Phoenix512
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Post by Phoenix512 » Fri Jan 19, 2007 3:27 am

With the slow destruction of the bars and the stopping of the music, Primal was forced into Zan’s hands which he managed to grab the earring and threw it to Nighthand. Once the earring was placed into the door, the fight had only truly begun. Primal transformed into an even more gruesome form which only made him even deadlier. With a quick burst of speed, Phoenix saw Primal killed Zan in the same way that he killed him the second time around along with Canti in the same way that Senna died.

So the dead count is the following: me twice; Zan, Senna, Canti, Hijinx once; and Nighthand, Rayo, Dien, and Nall zero. I don’t know if I should feel special or sad for dying twice but I got a very bad feeling that the deaths will continue for sure. It seems like that he’s waiting for us to attack it just like before with the bars. At least there should be some time to recover before the group tries to attack him.

Kazuma-sama, don’t you noticed that the change in Primal occurred after Nighthand put the earring into the door? There could be the possibility that there could be two or three more forms after this. The guardian bird said that into Phoenix’s mind which he immediately replied back to her.

I did think of that, Suzaku but I rather not mention that to the others at the moment. Rayo is in a panic and thinking defensively. Some of the others probably will lose their spirits if they hear of that thought. I knew that if the battle went on too long that my body can’t hold up. I have to be careful about my gravity use now. Even though the pain is subsiding a bit, it still hurts all around but the pain from the stabbings is gone. I could do something a bit more now but I rather wait until the chance for me to attack him. Suzaku, help Rayo in his crazy defensive stance. He needs the backup and our source of resurrection needs to be at full strength. So fire at will.

Suzaku left Phoenix’s side and hovered a few feet above Rayo. She breathes out a fire barrier surrounding the wavemaster so that Primal would either jump to avoid the fire or go through the fire and get damage by it. Phoenix scanned around the room and noticed that one of the new members was flying. It was Canti, the Twin Blade. He has not been around Canti for that long or seen him battle much but one thing Phoenix knew for sure that he was odd. Odd was an understatement for this group of people but if there was a person who could compete with Hijinx in the very crazy department, it was him.

The Twilight has finally manifested itself in Canti even more now. This should make four people who can fly now. Why I can’t fly? Too bad I can’t remove gravity and become weightless. That would be fun to do but back to the problem at hand. Attacking Primal directly without a plan isn’t the best way to do things. He probably die a second time very soon…

Before Phoenix could think anymore, Suzaku sent a telepathic message to him. There’s something odd about Primal’s bursts of speed. They only go in a straight line and avoiding the fire pits. I cannot figure out why he would be afraid of fire since he has an attack involving fire. Maybe you can figure out something out from it.

The blademaster made a sudden insight about Primal’s movements along with the second object to the door.

Flashmail
To: Everyone
From: Phoenix

I think Primal is avoiding the fire pits not because of the fire itself but the actual dropping into them. Maybe for some weird reason that he can’t escape from them once he’s in them. If we could somehow get him into one of them, we could try to remove one of the shards in his heart which I believe is the second object to the door.

I don’t really have a plan on how to draw him into the pit but I’ll leave that to the real tactical geniuses.

End Flashmail


Phoenix lied to them about having a plan to get Primal into a fire pit as it would probably be rejected as crazy. His plan was to decrease Primal’s gravity when he did a speed burst and hoped that the lack of traction would slide Primal into a pit. It would require for him to focus his power on his entire body but it would be only for a few seconds. The problem would be the timing itself. Since the speed bursts would only last for a few seconds and mostly random, it would require Phoenix to commit very quickly. If he uses his powers on Primal and fails, he probably would be targeted for a third death. So he rather succeeded on the first try than hoping that he won’t die for a third time if it fails.

The blademaster was ready to initialize his plan as an act of surprise along with any other plans that the tactical geniuses managed to cook up but that would be quickly discarded. Phoenix could not believe the savagery lying before him as Primal initialized his counterattack. The first attack was against the recently-awakened Canti who died in a massive lightning attack via one of the spikes in his heart. The second attack was directed towards the werewolf whom he just simply ripped out his throat. The third attack was aimed at Rayo who died in a similar death just like Zan a moment ago. The fourth and final attack was somewhat merciful compared to the others but brutal in its execution. Senna was slowly reduced down to 10 HP before suddenly she could not move at all.

Good thing for Phoenix that he stocked up on some items before starting his original Hub mission. He threw some resurrects on Canti, Rayo, and Zan along with an Antidote for Senna but something was wrong. His attempt to remove the paralysis from Senna did not have the desired effect at all and was causing her pain instead. At that moment, Phoenix just began to shout out his true feelings.

“I don’t care about this anymore. He’s obviously can beat us pretty damn easily. This hub is not worth us dying and over again. Marionette, you win. Call off Primal and heal Senna of this paralysis. Let us leave this place alive. I really wish that the others think the same way that I do but they rarely think the same way that I do. Somehow I feel that Senna’s paralysis was an act of kindness of Primal’s part even though it was done in a brutal way. I refuse to play this game anymore. It’s not worth dying for!”

Phoenix put away his sword and just sat down to prove his point. He has seen many people died and gave up their lives for him. That was the true reason that Phoenix fights against the Elites and sometimes he forgets that just like recently. His anger towards the Elites blinded him of the true reason for fighting in this nearly hopeless battle. Suzaku joined her master in his pacifism as she transformed into a necklace.

Thanks Suzaku for joining me. I doubt Marionette wants to kill us. Primal is giving us chances not to fight. I can’t let the others know this. They have to realize this themselves.

OOC: I would like to mention that Suzaku is a phoenix not a dragon. There’s a reason why I called her a bird sometimes not a dragon. Also, I had this post done when Nighthand managed to post shortly before I was finished.
Phoenix
Level 48 Blademaster
Equipped Skills: Vak Revolver, Gan Revolver, Dek Vorv, La Repth, Juk Kruz, Rue Kruz, BiVak Rom, GiGan Zot
Other Skills: Rue Kruz, Rip Synk, Rip Saem, Crack Beat, Rue Slash, Ani Slash, Gan Crack, Gan Revolver

Wish List: Phoenix's Fire, Gold Necklace
EX-Spheres: LV 3 - Overdrive, LV 3 - Curative, LV 3 - Elemental Breath

User avatar
Dien
Exalted Player
Posts: 226
Joined: Fri May 12, 2006 1:59 am
Class: Blademaster
Location: The "Who's Online List," Stalking People...

Post by Dien » Fri Jan 19, 2007 9:17 am

(OOC: good to know - thanks Phoe)

One then two then four players had managed to get themselves killed by the terror. Well no, Senna hadn’t been killed. She just remained paralyzed, and unfortunately for her Dien didn’t have any spells or items capable of undoing that particular status effect. He looked at her apologetically, shrugging as though to convey his lack of ability to help without words. Sighing, he turned to where he could be more useful: applying his brain to this new speed demon. Blurry lines brought him from zipping from fireside to fireside. It was like he was somehow tied to the imaginary lines between them. Unfortunately, those lines covered pretty much everywhere: it was how he’d managed to kill four players so quickly. Digging out the necessary items, resurrects were cast on each of the players, as well as a Rig Gaem for Zan and for Rayo. He would’ve hit Canti with the SP-regen spell, but for the fact that blademasters weren’t meant to play the white mage – and it showed.

More important was the idea of the fire. Primal had changed form, and now he was probably the closest thing to Nall that any of them had seen, at least in terms of speed. So far, Dien had only seen the Hacker of Time display his full potential once, and that was only to quickly slice the heads off a few small dragons. Why the hell doesn’t he use his powers to help us out now? he thought, eyeing the blademaster curiously, even if he doesn’t know its stats, he should be well enough able to defend if anything should happen while he’s attacking. A shake of his head, and the thoughts were dismissed: let gods be gods and all.

Primal zipped past, still a good distance away. Color blurred in his wake, showing his path of travel: one fire pit to the next. Ambush? No, that was a foolish idea. Hiding in the fire wouldn’t work unless there was some way to nullify its burning effects. A quick test with his sword showed that the flames were still, in fact, hot, so that ruled out the option of an ambush. Besides, how would he know when their enemy was ready to be attacked, and what was to say that he wouldn’t know Dien was in the bonfire and ready to gut him the moment the opportunity arose? Too many questions left unasked…

Wait, what if the fire weren’t there? If there was some way to extinguish the fire, then the effects on this boss’s current form would assuredly be to their advantage. Besides, the last triumph had seemed to revolve about the destruction of the environment, so why not this one? It was worth a shot, and Dien turned toward the flame, staring at it intently. No information other than the realism it possessed was passed on to him, but it did give him something to let his eyes focus on while he thought. Fire was the Vak element in its truest form, and just staring into it brought images of the dance of fiery waves. In this environment, it was just one of six elements that made up everything about them, and the dance they all partook in determined what was what – at least here.

Rue cancels Vak, he thought, recalling his first log-in into the World and the tutorial program CC Corp had developed for him, water and cold cancel out fire and heat. A quick glance to the sword in his hand showed him steam billowing off its surface in droves, the surface of the graphical marvel shimmering in the light of the inferno, and rapidly shifting due to the energy it put out. It was a sword of ice: and it was eating as much of the fire’s energy as it could. Perhaps a skill…? It was worth a shot, and if anything bad happened he could just heal and try something else. Besides, the pain of burning was sweeter to him than the pain of freezing or being electrocuted (if there can be flavors of pain).

Silently, he activated the sword’s elemental finesse, opting to lower the physical motion as much as possible to amplify its elemental effects. A sudden burst of steam flew off its surface—no, not steam, it was billions upon billions of tiny ice crystals, absorbing all the energy they could find before dissolving. Some met with the bonfire and sublimed instantly while other more fortunate ones contributed to the atmosphere by adding a nigh-invisible layer of fog to the mix that would be gone in a manner of seconds. However, the main event had not yet started. Opting to go for the whole shebang, Dien thrust the sword forward hard, the blade plunging deep into the fire. For a moment nothing happened, but then a mind-numbing ping resounded in his ears. Not a second passed before he was unconscious, unable to determine what would happen to him now.
__________

It was light. The whir of a simple machine echoed from the corner, while next to it an oven burned at temperatures too hot for any food. Simple wooden walls opened in a window next to the oven’s chimney, right over where the whirring came from. It was a pottery wheel, and attending to it was an elderly man. Clearly he hadn’t lost his strength, else he wouldn’t still be molding the clay so intently. A wrinkled hand reached down, wet itself, then returned to the work in progress. All of this happened in his eyesight, from across the room.

Jed, mind bringing over that clay?” Looking at the desk next to him, the clay was indeed still there. “What’s taking you? I don’t have all day, you know.

“R-right, sorry,” Jed replied, picking up the clay and walking it over to the man. It was odd. Though the wheel was spinning and his hands were definitely molding something, the boy couldn’t see anything there.

Just set it down on the table there,” the man replied, continuing to mold the air in front of him. Jed complied.

“Uh, if you don’t mind my asking,” he said shortly, “what is it you’re making? I, uh, can’t see it…” The man stopped pumping the wheel. As he rose to his feet, Jed backed away cautiously, afraid that he may have offended him somehow.

Stand back,” said the potter, and a newly-mitt-covered hand grasped the door of the oven, pulling back and sending a blast of heat into the room. In one motion, his hands hoisted the yet-unpronounced piece of sculpture into the oven, and the door was shut.

That, boy,” the man continued, “is a kiln. It burns hotter than most other ovens you’ll find.

“I know that,” Jed replied, pulling out the chair from the desk next to him and sitting in it, “I just…”

You’re confused?” The new lump of clay was picked up and placed on the wheel.

“You could say that,” the younger answered, “I mean, there wasn’t anything on the wheel just now when you were sculpting.”

Oh yes there was” came the reply, and wet hands set to work on the new piece of clay, “it just wasn’t for your eyes to see.

“And this one is?” There was a long pause, and the man sighed, his hands never ceasing to mold the material before him. Jed turned his head and stared out the window, nothing but white revealed to his eyes by the effort. Finally, the worker spoke up.

This one’s you,” he said, and Jed turned his face back to the wheel to see a fairly intricate design being formed, “you know how pottery works, right? You have to keep the clay wet and warm to be able to mold it. Without moisture, molding will just make it fall apart.” His hand dipped the trough at his side once again, and he continued. “Until it’s done being molded, you have to keep adding more and more water to it, or else it’ll dry out and fall apart. Too much water though, and it’ll cave in.” The words sent a chill down Jed’s spine, apparently visible to the old man which elicited laughter.

That was what happened when you were first infected,” he explained, “you got too much water and collapsed, even hurting your friends along the way. Don’t worry, though, it won’t happen again. No, I’ve got a better idea for you, Jed.

“Wait a minute,” interjected the hacker, “what do you mean?”

Well, ‘I’m the Potter, you’re the clay,’ if you catch my drift,” a strange look was given by Jed, and was answered by the Potter, “but I’ve been working on you for a lot longer than you know. Anyway, do you know what happens when you put the clay into the kiln?

“It gets cooked,” Jed replied, “learned that in second grade.”

That’s right. All of the water is forced out of it and it’s made hard. After it’s been cooked, the clay becomes a lot more useful. The problem with that is that if it’s used recklessly, it can become brittle and very easy to break, and once its broken there’s no going back.

“What do you mean?” Jed asked, only to find everything about him disappeared, faded back to white and then out to black.

__________

A glitch? No, not a glitch. A glitch wouldn’t have sent him back in time. Illusion? Doubtful, although this virus was turning out to be a real trip. What he’d seen had been some sort of dream, but then not a dream. Ah screw trying to figure out what it was. He was there, and then he wasn’t. He was Jed, and then he was Dien again. It made no sense to him, and he turned to face the fire once again.

Water keeps it stable? he thought silently, his mind repeating the process it had before and much to his knowledge. Glitter was already pulled out, and this time he didn’t hesitate to attack the burning pit before him with all the water he had:

“Rue Crack!”

Whether or not it would do anything was anyone’s guess, but the blademaster’s sword fell with absolute frigidity through the flames, leaving a deep scar that would linger a few moments, if nothing else.

Nighthand Edit: With the culmination of the Rue skill, the bonfire is successfully put out (the reason why area-effect rue spells didn't do this before is they weren't directly targeting a bonfire pit).
Image
Image|||Level 35 Blademaster (+200 EXP)
Wishlist: EXP, Ends of Earth, Armor with Status Effects

Rayo
Exalted Player
Posts: 485
Joined: Wed Apr 09, 2003 7:21 pm

Post by Rayo » Fri Jan 19, 2007 6:42 pm

Several of his teammates joined in by targeting Primal, but none of this prevented the bullet-like movement from continuing. His electrical attacks had a noticeable effect, but not clearly a good one. A new metal bar jutted out from the chest of Primal’s second form, making the total shortly four before it was ejected to deal with Canti high above. How the twin blade was even doing what he was doing was a fact the wavemaster was willing to ignore for the time being; the boss proved a much more relevant sight for viewing. Zan had blood gushing from his neck and was ghosting before the mage could even try to launch anything at the beast, especially sad because a moment later his fate was to be the same.

A rough opening was formed as a claw mauled the region below his head. Given Rayo’s class his physical characteristics were mostly pathetic, even his decent stamina failed him from such a animalistic strike. For the second time since he’d entered the field, the player became a ghost. The pain seemed worst than the previous death somehow. Auth greatly disliked excessive heat and had been roasted by a pair of upper class Vak magic, but the death that was equally as quick didn’t seem quite as bad. However, the opening of his neck had caused much greater suffering, a more physical pain that didn’t seem quite so far removed as a simple bit of magic.

His own resurrection was covered rather nicely, with Phoenix taking over healing duties for a moment. The deaths were tended to, and Senna’s recovery was attempted, but for whatever reason her status remained the same. For the moment, one player was permanently disabled. His level of respect that had been on the rise for the blademaster dropped considerably moments later due the declaration of pacifism. Okay, two of the team were temporarily useless. If Phoenix still acted as a healer while claiming to discontinue combat, that sort of hypocrisy could slide. Primal might leave the blademaster for last and not disrupt their defensive side. However, if the lightning mage died again and the blademaster did nothing… then there would be some chewing out from the other side.

Still, that jerk Primal had managed to piss him off with the last display. Not only did the creature kill him so easily, but he was attempting to use lightning to slaughter the team. That was not acceptable, there was only one thunder user here. His Rai Kruz might have made matters worse, but assuming off of the first attack something was ineffective almost proved fatal in the last field. That gigantic serpent with the mono eye shielded itself from the PhaRai Rom, but in reality it was still the snake’s weak point. Hitting Primal with additional electrical surges could just supply him more lightning based ammunition, but it seemed to not need it to slaughter them in any case. Besides, it’d eventually have to run out of the metal bars, there had been a limited quantity in the room. Running a game of attrition might not work in their favor any better than Dien’s attempt to vanquish the fire pits which numbered around probably a hundred or so, but there could be detrimental effects for Primal without taking care of all of them.

Thanks to the blade master’s second SP regeneration contribution however, waiting a few moments provided the thunder user with enough SP to enact his plan. A casual weapon switch left the Apocalypse Rod as his current weapon, this made both of the spells accessible that were required for his plan. The third necessary component wasn’t magic at all, but instead a verbal jab.


“Primal, do you really think you can really keep on stopping my lightning? Try this! Rai Kruz!”

Immediately after sighting the foe with the Rai Kruz that should hopefully keep Primal from running off like the last time, then Rayo carried out his second spell. Darkness was his least favorite element; Ani opposed Rai and was his bane. It produced little that was worthwhile, but unfortunately in this case it was necessary to try. If Primal was thunder based at the moment, then the darkness should swallow up a sizeable portion of it’s health or cause some ill effect on the monstrosity.

“MeAni Zot!”

The second level darkness spell rose from the ground beneath where Primal should be, claws reaching out to take a piece out of the boss. Rayo took a defensive precaution as soon as the spell cast would allow by switching back to the Great Elite just in case Primal turned his wrath towards him with one of the exposed metal bars.
Rayo
Lv.47 Archer 745HP/311SP
Bell, the Silver Grunty of Thunder
Skills/Spells-Shocking Arrow of Voltage(30), Arrow of the Burning Stars(10), MeRai Rom(40), Rai Kruz(10), La Repth(20), Rip Maen(40), MeRai Kruz(20), GiVak Kruz(20), MeRai Don(20), Rig Saem(15)
Weapon/Armor/Book-Golden Royal Bow/Thunder Torque, Thunder Cloak, Able Ring, Ivory Greaves/Thunder Magic
Wishlist: YL Fukuoka, Stormlore, Winter Stone, Silver Grunty

User avatar
Marionette
Elevated Player
Posts: 29
Joined: Sun Sep 03, 2006 4:24 pm

Post by Marionette » Sun Jan 21, 2007 6:27 am

Flashmail!
To: The Party
From: Marionette
Subject: allegiancE

realizE thaT whaT yoU seE iS noT whaT iS. mY allegiancE, whilE noT perhapS againsT yoU, maY noT bE witH yoU eitheR. youR failurE tO comE tO mE meanS buT onE thinG; thaT yE arE noT worthY. tO yE oF littlE faitH, mY minionS shalL withholD nothinG.
whaT happenS wheN thE puppeT pullS thE stringS?

Hijinx
Exalted Player
Posts: 591
Joined: Thu Apr 03, 2003 11:28 pm
Location: New look, check it out!

Post by Hijinx » Mon Jan 22, 2007 3:54 am

It was just too much to resist. Giving in to her laughter, Hijinx toppled over backwards after looking at Rayo. As angry as he was, he still looked funny while he was mad. Pheonix was more than likely working his way into a shallow grave, but that was nothing new either. Her only real hope was that she wouldn't be expected to bring him back to life if Primal gave him a cold. It was a good pause though, and the intervening moments of rampant slaughter and otherwise good natured slaying provided ample time to reflect on what was going on around her.

So far she had been stabbed, brought back to life, witnessed the destruction and rebirth of the adversary, and was treated to a display of skill and cunning. All in all, it wasn't turning out to be a bad day. In fact, if the stupid alarms would stop prompting her to take action somewhere without telling her WHERE to go, it would be just about perfect. However, circumstances being as they were, there was nothing for the fist fighting freedom fighter to do but wait it out why her brain decoded things. The first pressing issue on the imaginary list? Senna.

Repth had thus far proven ineffective, as did items for the same purpose. The only thing that came to mind worth trying seemed to make perfect sense under those conditions. Primal had purposely left their new friend alive for some reason. This seemed to promise that killing her would have been less permanent, and following this train of thought, Hijinx struck. The blow landed cleanly on the spinal column, right between the cranium and shoulder blades. A few things moved around in the general area before the long arm collapsed and greyed. Noises the neck made on the way down weren't so pretty though. Sure, the plan was to drop her and bring the new ally back to life, but who would have expected that kind of crunch? Unfortunately, time wasn't on their side, so Senna was brought back with a ressurect and offered a repth hug before Hijinx bounded off.

The next item on the list was Dien, who had done something interesting. While others were charging in and ghosting out, he was playing fireman. Well, it was an idea at least, one that deserved some merit. Maybe they wouldn't need to put out a lot of fires. In fact, if the ones behind and next to their team members were removed, it may improve the survival rate a bit. A little more thought revealed a flaw in the plan though. If Primal could do his speed trick twice in a row, they may end up making the situation more dangerous. Patterns began to unfold in her mind, an ever vigilant eye resting on the enemy. What good was a plan if she allowed herseld to be caught off guard, afterall?

OOC: Such a dry post><
Hijinx the Lucky Former Rabbit
Level 35.000 Fist Fighter
Equip: Fist Guards, Wyrm Hide, guard cap, Snow panther, silver bracers
Item: 5 ressurect, 2 antidote, 10 healing potions, 6 Emperor's Soul, 3 Raging Earth, 5 Ice Floe, 4 Gale Breath, Knights Bane, 10 Speed Charms
Money: 1103gp
"The problem with life is there's no back-ground music."

User avatar
Nighthand
Master of Games
Posts: 1265
Joined: Mon Mar 31, 2003 9:23 pm
Class: Bladesmage
Location: ...Tracking...please wait...

Post by Nighthand » Fri Jan 26, 2007 1:51 am

Nighthand watched more and more, finding himself at a loss for what he could do that would help the battle. He could stand there and guard the door? He really didn't have any ideas as to how this boss could be defeated... While Nall could probably catch the monster as he moved, and he himself might be able to, it didn't mean it would be a good idea.

So basically he just sat there, watching, looking for any sort of opening while Nall focused on the internal structure of the creature.

Phoe's declaration of giving up was followed swiftly by a flashmail from their watcher, Marionette. While the mail itself was plainly in response to the blademaster's statement, it in many ways applied to all of them. And it shared with them one important fact; just because Marionette wasn't trying to kill them all with the ferocity of the elites, didn't mean he didn't want them dead.

Ironically, at least in Nighthand's eyes, Phoe had been the one to stumble upon the solution to the previous form. And now he was giving up... Oh well, what happens happens. As much as the heavyblade wanted to slay the blademaster for his lack of faith... Did he not remember why they were here in the first place? Who cares what the guardian is, the Hub is what was important. The hub was the reason they were there; it would help to cripple the elites and their society so the freedom fighters would have an easier time of things.

Dien's attempts to squelch the flames in the nearby bonfires had the desired effect; the bonfire was reduced to a hissing pile of ash. This brought up a few concerns, though. The area immediately darkened; without the light of the fire, it was somewhat harder to see, and even with the other light sources, it was still a pit anyone could fall into.

At almost the same time, Rayo's pair of spells went off, and Primal seemed caught between two conflicting desires. The first was obvious; the Rai spell from their wizard was beneficial to the beast. The second was less obvious, but, as it turned out, stronger.

Primal avoided both spells the wizard cast by heading in a beeline for the pit Dien had opened up. As the two spells erupted where he had once stood, Primal sifted quickly through the ashes, looking for something. The question of "what" entered their minds, but was quickly answered as a pair of dully glowing marbled were pulled from the ashes. Just as quickly as they had been found they were gone again. Still, the close glimpse was enough to tell another little bit about Primal.

Deprived of his sword, Primal had to rely on other means to cast the fire and ice skills the previous form had wielded. The method it chose was lined on each arm; on the forearm, on the inside, were lines of small lights. The marbles Primal had just pulled from the ashes were added to those lights; like the bars stuck through his heart, these marbles represented charges of the skill remaining.

Having obtained what he had come for, Primal flashed his way out of the pit. Well, at least one question was answered. Primal wasn't avoiding the holes; he was avoiding the fire. Perhaps putting out the bonfires wasn't the best idea... Then again, wasn't everything there for a reason? Why would they even be able to put out the fires if it didn't matter?

Hijinx took a different route in the battle's progress. Rather than attempt to attack the boss, she attempted to cure Senna. And, surprisingly enough, her attempt worked. The removal of those few remaining hit points had the desired effect of ghosting the character, which a well-used resurrect cured. Senna was once more back in the fight; hopefully with some knowledge or idea that would help end it.

Or else they were in for a long day.

User avatar
Dien
Exalted Player
Posts: 226
Joined: Fri May 12, 2006 1:59 am
Class: Blademaster
Location: The "Who's Online List," Stalking People...

Post by Dien » Fri Jan 26, 2007 10:21 am

The fire had extinguished, and darkness had flooded into the now lightless void. There, in the midst of the darkness, Dien surveyed his handiwork. From his perspective, there wasn’t even any wood leftover from the fire that had been burning there. All he could see was black ash lining the bottom of the pit. It probably wasn’t exactly black, but thanks to the now low light it was all he could discern…until a conflagration of dim purple light shone off the odd costume of their foe as he slowed to an awkward stop inside the lack of fire. The blademaster cocked his head to the side, staring agape as the character shuffled the dust around to try and find something. Perhaps he was the only one close enough to actually tell what was found: two small marbles that, upon sight, absorbed into the body.

Not another moment later, and their foe was off again, zipping at unpronounced speeds towards another target. There was no way to tell where he would go next, but Dien guessed that it would make whatever attempts it could to retrieve the marbles that were presumably under each fire pit. Well, so he could guess. Truth be told, the player had never had such good luck as to be able to pluck one out of hundreds of options and be correct on the first try, so odds were that either all of them had marbles in them, or it was a good majority. He couldn’t even be sure what the marbles did, but if Primal wanted them, then they were probably safer in the hands of someone like Nall than they were in easily extinguishable pits of fire.

“Well then I guess it’s the marbles,” he convinced himself, pulling out Zanzamas and calling its status effect into play on himself, “let’s give this a shot.” A quick glance to the other side of the room caught the blurry enemy traveling between two distant pits, and Dien smirked. It was time to put out another fire. Granted, the speed charm most undoubtedly wouldn’t make him fast enough to defend an attack by Primal if he indeed did try to win the small spheres of unknown power, but he didn’t know it was coming either.

Zanzamas was exchanged once more for the highest sword in his inventory, and once again Glitter let its name show. The nearest fire pit was targeted, and Dien activated Rue Crack, putting all of its emphasis on the element and next to none on the physical part itself. Steam and ice-cold mist billowing off its surface, a thrust put the weapon into billowing flames. The blademaster hadn’t been paying attention before, but something struck him as odd about being able to control how the SP of his skills was used. Ah well, probably just something to do with Twilight anyway.

The bonfire out, and no sooner was the blademaster inside, his hands sifting through the dust and dirtying themselves to try and locate the two small objects that the enemy seemed to desire so badly. Something hard?! His hand clasped, but it was nothing but air. Out of nowhere, pain erupted through his whole body, and his view was forced downward. Two elements resided before him: fire and ice bitterly dueling for control as they both pushed him backward. No, they weren’t before him, they were in him. A swift crack raised his head to view what had just befallen him as the elements continued to converge. Primal was in the pit, legs bent and arms moving in blurs to try and find what Dien had almost had. The pain of his impact with the wall registered a moment later, and the blademaster could feel his body literally crushed against whatever material had been used to construct it, his own torn sinew keeping him there. Vision blurred, and every ounce of him started going numb. And then it was over, his body cascaded downward off the wall, unruly amounts of blood and gore spilling out behind him as the elements finally canceled out to leave only the bonfire directly below.

From any onlooker’s point of view, the only thing they would see would be a continuous blur transferred from Primal to Dien as they exchanged places, the blademaster proceeding to blur straight into a wall. They wouldn’t know until a moment after he stopped that it was, in fact, their ally, and would be powerless to help him until he was already dead. It had been complete and utter defeat to the blademaster, and the last thing he knew was the pain of death by fire.
__________

It was black. The pattern of color in his dreams and visions was beginning to appear extremely monochromatic. Based on memory alone, there were only two places this could be, and depending on what voice came from the blackness, it was either really good or it was really bad – unless another of the pantheon of his
dramatis personæ decided to reveal themselves to him. More characters had become known to him during this login than any other trip he’d had into The World—and only half of them he knew to be other players.

Silence.

After nearly a minute without any thought whatsoever, the blademaster sat up. Once again, he didn’t remember lying down, and only vaguely remembered his death, but this was becoming standard-fare for these escapades. Eyes opened, revealing nothing but more black.

“Oh come on,” he said, turning his head to the left and then back to the right to try and find something in the darkness, “at least let there be light.” And there was. It was still dark, though, but thanks to how dilated his pupils had become in the pitch black prior, he could see quite well. The environment was the dome: the same massive, seven lampstands, the same seven buttresses, and the same massive spire crashed into the earth. Its victim had since vanished, and the light was thanks to a small hole near the top of the dome where it had fallen from. What was curious, though, was the fact that none of the lampstands contained their roaring fires.

Pretty neat trick there,” he commented, pointing at the one mosaic illuminated by the hole in the ceiling brighter than the rest, “didn’t think that’d be the one to show up.

“Yeah, me either,” Dien replied naturally, “kinda funny how—wait, when the hell did you get here?!” Turning revealed the black cloaked figure, only a smirk showing under the shadow of his hood.

Relax, you’re king here,” he said, sitting next to the blademaster on whatever stone bench had been erected there, “or rather, you
can be king. It’s up to you in the end.” Rather than be confused, the player merely nodded, taking a moment to stare at the illuminated image on the wall. It was perhaps the one scene he would’ve never thought embodied in a place like this: a Roman crucifixion. It was apparent what exact event this was portraying, if only by the presence of not one but three crosses there: it was the death of Jesus Christ.

“Odd,” he mused, “I have to agree with you: where did that come from, and why is it
here, of all places?” The man in the black cloak shrugged, rising to his feet again and crossing to stand immediately in front of Dien.

Listen, I’m here to offer you a deal,” he began, “something’s started to awaken in you; a power that, regrettably, I’ve been incapable of holding back. Before it can full come awake, though, you have to choose to actively pursue it – something that you can’t do on your own. Now, you can choose not to pursue it, choose instead to take the power that I can offer you. Here’s the thing, though, you can’t have both, and if you choose the first one I’m gone.” Already he could tell where the man before him was going, and the player began to glare furiously at him.

“Let me ask you something,” Dien interjected before he could continue, “are you, in fact, the
Plures Vultus Mortis as that lady suggests?” The man continued.

So here’s the deal, when the opportunity arises for you to choose your path, I want you to decline the offer. You can’t tell any—

“ANSWER ME!!” Dien commanded, the room they were in beginning to shake. A small glimmer of light shone in the broken spire that stood crooked in the room’s center, and the quaking began to jar loose tiles from the walls. “I’m NOT kidding around when I say that if you don’t answer me, I will kill you.”

Temper, temper,” the man taunted, stepping back slightly, “besides, we’ve already been through this: killing me in this place won’t work.” A flash, and one of the massive lampstands lit, sending a line of fire up the ballast towards the place where the spire was formerly. Within a moment, Dien’s hand was wrapped about the man’s throat, contempt and hatred burning out of his pupils.

“If at first you don’t succeed,” he began to quote, throwing the man forward, “try and try again!” His body bounced off the ground twice before skidding to a stop near the ruined central spire, still glowing hotly from within.

Since you insist, no, I am not the
Plures Vultus Mortis that woman mistakes me for. No, that virus was my predecessor. I’m more evolved: I have integrated with Twilight, and it has advanced me to the point of being able to bargain with humans.” Another flash, and Dien was standing in front of him once again, the air about him distorting as though from heat.

“Good. Now, what is your proposal?” The man quietly rose to his feet, the hood remaining in place over his face. “Don’t try my patience.” He said, the look in his eyes intensifying by the second.

How frightening,” he mocked, “but that’s why I came here. You see, I have Danielle, and as it stands right now her very existence is in the palm of my hand. If you care about her life, you will do as I say and abandon this growing power.” The last consonant escaped his mouth, and then his body burned out of existence, quickly falling apart under the pressure of Dien’s wrath. He was king in this place, after all.

__________

His ghost appeared beside the pit of fire, and not another moment passed before his body was returned to him, wholly intact.

Quite a death, there. Didn’t look fun, but at least it looked cool?” And juicy. And delicious. Zan chose to leave those details to himself.

“...I don’t really recall,” Dien said, looking fatigued, “from the bloodstains, it looked spectacular, but all I remember is pain and then falling. In any case, how are you holding up?”

Zan tried to fake a smile. He was pretty sure he failed. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a steam-press truck. Twice. With a flaming steam-press. Otherwise? Fantastic.

The blademaster laughed, smiling sympathetically at his friend. “At least you can still joke about it,” he said, watching the blur move to and fro across the room. This room was smaller than the one of his dreams, and he wasn't anything close to as powerful here. There, he could stop this fiend in one shot, if that place even existed in reality, but here? No. His mind played through the events of his dream over again, and from his memory came the thought of the Plures Vultus Mortis - the many-faced death.

“Zan,” he started again, “what can you tell me about PVM?”

The lycanthrope paused, a startled look in his eyes as if he had just been shot. “Excuse me?

“Sorry,” came Dien's immediate reply, as he tried to piece together some false excuse for why he was asking, “you...told me about it in your flashmail before—that it was waging war inside you or something like that. I was just curious about it is all...” Crap, he thought, smiling as innocently as possible as he looked over to the bonfire he’d just crawled out of, he can probably see right through me.

Zan blinked, nodding slightly at an initial acceptance to his friends words. He was still trying to shake the sudden mention of the very thing that was killing him. “Oh, sure. Yea...” As the daze began to clear, the Heavy Blade’s senses...perked. Most of the stimuli he was constantly racked with had become white noise in their own right, sensory confusion aside. He focused on that white noise now, trying to pick apart what was bothering his Instinct. The Blademaster was perspiring, if only subtly...like he was nervous. No, that wasn’t it. They were by freaking fires, for God's sake. Maybe it was something else, like why Dien wanted to know about the secondary virus out of the blue. Another breath, natural as can be, as something else hit him, something too familiar. The PVM had saturated Dien’s character data like some viral bath. What the hell? He didn't try to hide the confusion on his face.

Dien...what's going on? You reek of it, of the Plures Vultus Mortis. How-” Any further attempts to speak were halted by the flood of digital feedback inside of his skull, trying to recall how Dien could have come into contact with his secondary infection bringing about that horrid ringing and a slam of his eyes closed, mouth gaping in momentary pain. When the pain had left him and the odd flash of a wraith flying from Zan’s body to slam into Dien’s faded, the lycanthrope eyed the kid before him with suspicion, oblivious to the blood that had begun to drip from his ears.

He delayed his answer, unsure just how to explain it to the virus's original proctor. Eyes gazed off to the side, as he tried to hold his own tongue, but to no avail. “It’s got Danielle,” he said quietly, straining to close the floodgates on his emotions, “the PVM, it reacted differently with the Twilight inside me, integrating with it and evolving a more advanced mind. I don't know why, but it kidnapped Danielle.” He could feel a tear stream down the side of his face. Any other time would have reminded him of how silly it was to cry over an AI, but she was more than that. He didn’t know how, but she was.

“...please,” he said, letting his mouth move ahead of his mind, “if you know anything that could help me...” The blademaster was desperate, and it showed.

It felt odd to be in different places with his friend, Zan usually the one pleading with Dien and Danielle for some answer or another. He didn't let the novelty take hole for too long. “I...I don’t even know how this happened. Maybe when, I don’t know, I first infected you, you got both of my viruses? That's the only logical explanation. But the PVM was built to sustain itself off of lycanthropic Twilight. Aside from it getting some sudden mass infection and inflation of itself, it shouldn’t be able to get that smart. Or that cruel.” His eyes once again were lost in thought, but it didn't last long this time. “Maybe it's an airborne contagion? Maybe you’ve just been around me too long...” It was...plausible, at least. That wasn't what Dien had asked, though. He didn't care how he got it, just how he could fight it.

I don't know, man. I wish I did. The only thing I know about the PVM right now is that it’s killing me. Really and truly killing me, real world body and all. I...God, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to do this to you.” What a friend, Zan. What a friend.

Dien closed his eyes, nodding slightly and trying to regain his composure as best as he could.

“Stop apologizing,” the blademaster finally said, remembering first his friend’s needs than his own, “it was that damned tree-witch’s fault, not yours.” Still, he doubted she’d had any idea who she was killing, save for the fact that they were close. Her intent had been to drive them apart, and yet without her they wouldn't be nearly as close as they were now.

“Look at the bright side, though,” he said, pulling out a smile, “we may be dying, dying, dead, and suffering through probably the most agonizing emotional trauma we’ll ever have to face, but when it all breaks down we’re still friends.” Yeah, it was cheesy, but also very true.

Zan could do little more than laugh, a dry laugh at best, but a sincere one. “Yea, that’s true. Let’s talk about this a little bit more when the blurry jackass is dead, yea?

“…yeah,” Dien replied, “I’ll let you know if anything else comes up in the meantime.”

After that was over, the newer player turned his attentions to the patterns of the ‘blurry jackass,’ always guessing and never discerning his path—that was an impossibility. No, he thought, remembering how quickly Primal had appeared in the fire pit both times after he’d knocked one out, knock one out and he’ll go to it. Ok, so there was how to predict, assuredly, his position. Now if only there was a way to attack during this…

His eyes were caught on the first fire pit he’d knocked out. Not even smoke came from its cold core. Cold core… came the thought, and his mind worked through the rudimentary skill of logic. If a Rue skill had quenched a Vak core, shouldn’t a Vak skill ignite a Rue core? It made sense, and he shrugged, walking forward towards it. For once, Glitter was exchanged for its more fiery counterpart, Komura. Again, the more elemental part of the Vak Slash skill was favored, and Dien stooped down next to the fire pit. Sword ablaze, he tapped it twice on the rim of the now dry pit. Almost immediately the fire flared to life, knocking the blademaster backwards to his bottom. There before him roared a complete bonfire – and tall, too. No wood was needed for it to burn, and he smirked. Primal had been avoiding the fires. His mind replayed the blur coming to a stop where the fire had formerly been: where it was afraid to go before because of the fire.

“Bingo,” he said, rising to his feet and forming a plan in his head. One hit from Glitter to silence the flames. Primal comes in, and then BAM! Hit the pit with Komura and give him a taste of that pain of death by fire. It would require speed, stealth, and a quick switch between the two swords…wait, why not just keep them both out? There were two hands, and there was nothing physically preventing him from holding two swords at once. Perhaps the game’s mechanics prevented it…? Looking down as he unequipped the sword of flames, a hilt appeared over the sheath. Glitter…? With his left hand, he pulled the sword out and sure enough, it was the sword he’d desired. Nope, apparently the game mechanics didn’t prevent him from holding two swords. Still, a quick check revealed that only one of the swords was actually equipped: Glitter. Calling Komura’s skill wouldn’t work unless…no outward change, but the sword in his right hand began to glow bright red.

Smirking, he walked up to one of the fire pits. Glitter in hand, he thrust it forward into the flame. Skill activated, and the fire was eaten. Moments later, a blur stopped in before him and began frantically searching through the ash. A thought, and the sword in his hand began to glow.

“Primal,” he said, causing the creature to look up, and Dien smiled, tapping the Vak Slash against the rim of the fire pit. Flames burst upward, and it was over.

(OOC: Primal Beta neutralized)
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Image|||Level 35 Blademaster (+200 EXP)
Wishlist: EXP, Ends of Earth, Armor with Status Effects

User avatar
Nighthand
Master of Games
Posts: 1265
Joined: Mon Mar 31, 2003 9:23 pm
Class: Bladesmage
Location: ...Tracking...please wait...

Post by Nighthand » Sun Jan 28, 2007 8:15 pm

(OOC: Sorry for the wait. Busy weekend.)

Ammo as the bait of the trap and Primal fell directly into it, almost literally. After Dien's first two failed attempts, the third try was the charm; Dien discovered relighting the fire pit and Primal was caught inside as the flames went up. And up and up and up some more; the flames rose higher than they had been to begin with. Curiously without the heat the fire should have cast, but light aplenty illuminated what happened next in all its detail. Primal’s flesh was consumed in the heatless fire. Bit by bit, each layer of the substance that covered the figure was burned away, crumbling into ash and falling to the bottom of the pit. Then flesh and bone followed, until nothing was left. Or.. was nothing left? No, there, within the flame; something was still there. A small, ovoid shape, like an egg or a seed…

Without warning, though they all knew something was coming, something happened. The towering pillar of flame, now a dozen feet tall, abruptly changed color. No longer the red/orange of fire, the flames were a bright, verdant green. It towered higher and higher into the sky, until it was less like a column of fire and more like a pillar of light.

Seconds later the rest of the bonfires followed suit. They went from mounds of fire to columns of green light, albeit less intense than the original.

Primal's pillar of light died back, but the room was illuminated more than adequately by the rest of them, casting everything in a greenish hue. Then, radiating out from the fire pit where Primal had been killed, a change came over the room. First the stones of the floor seemed to crack with age, grass sprouting up in between, around, and eventually through them. Grass and weeds, all sorts of plant material, rose up around them. Only a small clearing remained, around that one dead fire pit. Stones rose up and piled around that pit, making it seem more like a natural formation. Primal's 'seed' fell to the center of the pit, promptly disappearing into the ash and, now, compost.

High above them, the greenish light spread out, forming a canopy of green. It moved amongst itself, turning into a mottled patter of green and blue. Sky blue. Even a few patches of white indicated clouds high above them. They were far beneath the earth, but that hadn't stopped the other outdoors rooms, why would it stop this one from becoming one?

One by one, the green columns covered over with a new color, and a new substance. The green turned into brown, ceasing to cast light, but that didn't matter. The light was coming from high above, now; the sun in the sky, artificial as it may be, was enough to at least partially illuminate the area. The once-fire, once-light columns had become the trunks of giant trees, the brown becoming bark as hard as iron. No blade would pierce this bark, no fire would scorch it's trunk. This was their scenery, setup for the third form of the battle.

Nighthand, as far from this all as he was, was no longer in sight of the pit where Primal had met his demise. In fact, no one but Dien would see what happened next. Everyone else was blocked out by the underbrush or the trunks of the massive trees. Underbrush that was still growing, now covering the tree trunks in vines.

Dien, still by the edge of the pit, looked curiously in to see what lay at the bottom of this jungle altar. Nothing. Nothing but a pile of soot, and ash, and compost material. At least, that was what it looked like up until a pair of thick, thorny vines shot up out of it. These wrapped around Dien, thorns digging into his flesh and keeping him from wriggling out of their grasp. As the vines lifted him from the ground, a plant-like maw appeared beneath him. A venus fly trap, of epic proportions, opening out of what was once the skull of Primal. The mask rose up, cracked and broken, one glassy eye remaining. Vines trailed like hair, wrapping over arms painted camouflage, perfect for hiding in this new jungle environment. Clawed fingers and toes would prove to be deadly weapons eventually, though for the purpose now they were useless. The vines contorted, and Dien felt his entire body go numb from the poison they injected. Unaware of what was happening, and unable to feel or see what happened to his body, Dien was spared the gruesome sight of his physical form being crushed and twisted into a bite-sized morsel for the boss monster.

Even his stats showed no real change. His HP was full, despite the poison and the thorns, and even being consumed by Primal. He could see only what Primal saw, a view lacking depth perception, only one eye to see with. And yet, the underbrush meant nothing to Primal's eye. While the rest of the group could not see him, he could see everyone. There was no hiding in Primal's domain.

Dien could feel nothing, simply a disembodied eye. He would see from the point of view of his enemy, helpless to do anything as it slaughtered his friends.

Of course, Dien was not the only one who could see, now. Nall's eyes widened with newfound insight. Some of the monster's stats had solidified with this latest change. Nothing major; not everything by any long shot, but Nall had some new information for the group.

Flashmail!
To: The party
From: Nall
Subject: Primal's Third Form

I don't think any of you can see it right now, but there is definitely a third form and it's already taken out Dien. I... Don't know where Dien is, in fact. There's still something odd going on with this boss, and not all of it's stats can be seen, but I can see some things now. He has two HP totals; I don't know what that means. One is high; 6605 HP. The other is lower; only 330. I can't tell if he has SP or not, or much else about him... Just be careful. He'll be hard to fight in his own environment.


Dien now discovered one more thing about his imprisonment. He could still receive Flashmails and, though he had no fingers to type or write with, he could still send them. What could he do, though, from his vantage point?

---------ooc:
Primal Phase 3: Split.
HP: 6605, 330

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