@supertinykingMortis shoots forward, a wall of flame following him. The trees burn up, the creatures screech, as he comes down like a living inferno. His hammer strikes the nearest creature, a giant centipede with a human face. The creature is blown away, disintegrating like a shadow before the rising sun. His fury burns, even as he can feel himself drawing on the rage of the Multiverse. His fist strikes like a Supernova, an explosion blasting outwards as hundreds of horrors are incinrated, their forms dispersing. And yet, even as he tears through them, there are always more.
A relentless clicking sounds, the constant rhythm seeming to pierce it's way through the inferno. Even over the screams and screeches he can hear it, like a nail being driven into his brain. The clack of shoes against the steel floor, the smell of blood and fear in his nose, coupled with a strange metallic, rusty tang. A black silhouette, lit by stark white lights, hung from a steel ceiling. Slowly he turns the screw in his head, even as a grin plays it's way onto his face, as it clicks into place. "Oh, what an interesting specimen we have here. Say, do you think grief is a physical thing? That it exists in the human body?" He chuckles, as a scalpel slips into his hand from his sleeve. "Don't bother answering, I intend to find out."
The berserk Mortis shoots towards this new threat, the floor under his feet turning to fire and brimstone, the air turning to noxious acid, his breath bringing a wave of heat. And yet even as he steps forward he can feel himself catching on hundreds of tiny threads as they cut into his body. Wrapping around him, tearing into his flesh. The figure grins, as if everything were merely proceeding according to plan, were merely proceeding logically.
Mortis ripped through his bonds, only to be interrupted by a wild cry. For unexpectedly an axe blade sprouted from his shoulder, as he was knocked onto his knees by the force of impact. He twists behind him to see a massive man, wearing woodsman's clothing, his burly arms pulling back for a second swing. He can feel earth covering him, pulling at him, the insects digging into his flesh, even as he realizes the ground is attempting to bury him alive. And even as the thought crosses his mind, he finds himself locked in a coffin of steel. He can see the ocean above, through the narrow slit, even as he bashes against the narrow confines. Even as he hungers, even as he screams for even the barest snatch of food.
But the fear cannot grab a hold. He can feel the power of the nightmares around him as they trap him, encircle him, lock him in. He can feel their strength, even as he rips through their petty illusions. He blasts them to pieces, but more merely come. He can feel himself being torn deeper into this world of darkness, and he realizes he is not fighting an army. He is not facing an enemy with numbers, for they would keep coming until the Multiverse ran out of horrors to dream of. He could feel it's net tangling around him, dropping from imaginary world to imaginary world, tearing and bashing and destroying all in his wake.
And yet, a single cold fear begins to work it's way into his heart. A single droplet of terror, a crack in his impregnable shield of rage. For he realized that something was coming that was worse than any army of nightmares. He could sense it, he could feel it. It was as if every animal instinct was suddenly accutely aware that his end was coming. The date of his death approached on dainty legs, at a snail's pace, weaving it's way down to meet him. And it seemed there was nothing he could do.
If he could not escape from the Chaos Realm before this terror caught up with him, he would undoubtedly die.
((Hint hint, nudge nudge))
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@kishin asura@supertinykingThe creature steps forward again, grinning brightly. "I believe I-" With a blast of explosive energy, a wave of green radiation washes over the Nightmare. Even as the light fails the creature can be seen, half it's body burned off, reduced to nothing but ashes. And yet he merely recovered, the threads reconstructing him in mere moments. He simply takes a moment, as if he attempting to contain his annoyance, before glaring over at Rick.
Even as Rick was about to release his second blast, the floor gives way under his feet. He drops down, the blast of energy firing off into a random direction. His hand catches on the edge of the hole that had spontaneously appeared. The strain was immense, forced to hold up his entire body with one arm, unless he were to drop the gun. Beneath, far below him, he could see a swarm of ravening mouths, black slugs covered in razor teeth, buzzing around one another in anticipation of their meal. He was clinging on for dear life, as the Nightmare seemed to appear at the edge of the pit.
It glanced down at him with a sort of mock pity, the look he might have given one of his victims when they cried out for him to stop. It was strange, seeing the look mirrored on a face so similar, and yet so different from his own. He had an odd moment of reflection, before the creature lifted an elegant boot, and stepped on his hand, breaking all his fingers. The shattered with a sickening crunch under the sudden pressure, pieces of shattered bone piercing his skin in various places. "My, you really don't scare easily, do you? Well, let's see if you fear death. If not.... well, who cares anyway?" With a final sadistic grin, the creature once more lifted it's boot, preparing to stomp on Rick's one remaining hand.
