02-28-2008
|
|||
|
|||
"You call us traitors?" Morgon grawled back. She then appoached him, and by instinct grabbed his machete arm tightly with her free hand and held her blades to he's throat, all in a quick motion. She could feel her wound healing, but it was still bleeding and still stang with pain. In that type of circumstance instinct took over the otherwise calculating Morgon.
"Cloak, your not the only one with magic," she said in a hushed tone as she started to siphon his energy, "My speed and strenght decieves. I'm what they call a energy leacher." <OOC>Scaring you so far? Relax, you break away, but this would rattle your character's cage/</OOC> 
|
|
02-28-2008
|
||||
|
||||
|
Morgon gripped Jamie's arm. She squezzed it, cutting of the blood flow to his fingers. His grip on the machete slackened, causing it to drop to the floor.
The cold, sharp metal of her lethal blades pressed into his throat. With just one flick of the wrist, she could behead him. "Cloak, your not the only one with magic," she whispered menacingly. The rest of Jamie's arm began to go numb. He looked upwards into her cold eyes. His vision began to swim, the rest of the world stared spinning. "My speed and strenght decieves. I'm what they call a energy leacher." Jamie had never felt like this before. Through all the expereinces that he had encountered in his life, none could compare to this. He was feeling pure, sheer terror. Slowly, he felt as if his life was being drained away. But yet he was still alive. His mind was still functioning, but none of his body would move. He lay there, paralyzed, sapped of all energy, waiting for the final blow. The seconds trickled by, this must surely be it, no-one knew where they were, he was going to die. With these last thoughts, he slumped into unconciousness. OOC: Not dead, just out cold.
|
|
02-28-2008
|
|||
|
|||
|
Morgon could feel him go limp and she let him fall to the ground unconciousness, releasing him from her cold and powerful grasp. He laid still and seemingly lifeless. Morgon could feel her wound heal at a faster rate now with the new energy. Once it stopped bleeding Morgon took another leap into the air and made her way for the Black Fellowship Base, once landing running on foot.
At the base a fellow black fellowship member caught up to Morgon with a small key. "Escuse me, Morgon?" he asked meekly as his glass-like frame approached, "The Cross Brigand leader gave this to me to give to you." Morgon gently took the key from his open hands. She held back her tears when she realized what it was: the safe key. That meant only one thing, and it saddened her deeply, but she didn't let her emotions show, now was not the time to lower moral. She patted the fellowship member on the shoulder and sent him away while she walked to the safe. Yes, she remembered the safe well, it was put up be the founding leader of the Black Fellowship: a fellow that left the Dreamist movement a long time passing. Morgon never met the man, for he was killed before she joined the group. The only leader she was aware of was the naive Clyde, who took leadership as an emergency leader and never left: inspite talk among the ranks to make Morgon the leader. Alas, though, she had the key to it in her hands, from a fellowship lacky that got it from Cross. That met only one thing: Clyde was dead. As must of a naive twit that Morgon though he was, Clyde still didn't deserve to be killed by the Dreamist. Morgon stood by the loaming safe and pressed the key into the keyhole on the lock, turned it and heard a welcoming click. She stood there for a bit, thinking about Clyde, and how nice of a guy he was, morally sound and compassionate, and how she was going to break the news to the Black Fellowship that he was no more. It meant that she was leader now, however. It was a bittersweet feeling.
|
|
02-28-2008
|
||||
|
||||
|
Clyde's Note reads:
Morgon, if you're reading this I'm dead. Well, you probably figured that out already, but that's besides the point. All you need is in the safe, and I know what you're thinking. 'Good riddance, Clyde is dead!' but I shall be eternal just like my burning passionate... The rest is illegible...
__________________
Give me suffering, pain, anguish, sorrow, and death! For I shall make it my driving force, and from beyond the grave I shall paint the sky red...
|
|
02-28-2008
|
|||
|
|||
|
Morgon opened the safe and found much in the name of cash and arms. She gave a smile, for the old leader wasn't stupid. As she looked through the safe she found a note on printer paper in the safe, something that did not belong. Curious she picked it up and examined it, finding out that it was a letter from Clyde. The first paragraph was in English and it read something like this:
Quote:
|
|
02-28-2008
|
||||
|
||||
|
Cross rounded a corner and burst into the hotel that was the Dreadmist base, "Take me to your leader or die!" he roared, holding both guns in hand, he heard the clicks of several guns cocking, "Heh... you puny whelps can't hurt me... permanently that is, I'll always get back up... so just take me to your leader before I kill each and every one of you!" he roared.
Thousands of bullets turned Cross into nothing but an unidentifiable pile of gore. Then, his blood and parts came back into place and he dusted himself off, "Die it is then..." he muttered, pulling the triggers of his guns as fast as he could...
__________________
Give me suffering, pain, anguish, sorrow, and death! For I shall make it my driving force, and from beyond the grave I shall paint the sky red... Last edited by Dargomethe : 03-01-2008 at 05:12 AM. Reason: accidental use of another charrie's name
|
|
03-01-2008
|
||||
|
||||
|
Name: Zemos Hikagari
Age: 17 Appearance:  Personality: Outgoing, Demestic Power(s): Teleportation Faction: Dreadmist Faction goal: Killing All Position in faction: Scouter History: Unknown.
__________________
Bullet for my Valentine is the best band!
|
Linear Mode
