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Zeroth Post
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Zeroth
There’s something haunting about gold, the way it catches the eye. It doesn’t demand your attention, but you hand it over anyway, as if entranced by something that you can’t put into words. We’ve all seen it so many times, it’s almost everywhere you look nowadays, and yet still we seem to pause when it gleams, stunned by luster.

Tony found himself in this idle awe, glaring at the blade across the room, demanding answers from something with no voice. For years he’d held it, fought with it, and yet still it felt foreign to him, anonymous to his endless investigating. He pulled himself back against the headboard of his bed as the blade inched forward on the dresser, following his every move, locked to him. He’d forgotten how to dismiss its gifts, to revert it into the simple silver blade that was little more than a grotesque symbol to the world now. He had begun to become almost impressed with the war now, how it raged on just quiet enough to keep the world confused, passing off the heinous murders and brutal displays as unexpected and unrelated incidents, police reports stacking up in a safehouse in the downtown area while a government agency plotted their next move from the comfort of a fortress no one knew about. It almost made the whole thing feel like an act, a big show for a studio audience of bodies and memories.

“Do you think if you stare at it long enough it’ll feel guilty?” A voice broke the silence, Tony couldn’t help but imagine a laugh track in his head.

“I dunno, maybe. Have you tried it before?” The voice sighed and flopped onto the bed next to him in a mess of silver hair and stained pajamas.

“No, can’t say that I have, but mine isn’t as fancy as yours y’know? I got the contract free deal, it gives me a lot more options.” Tony chuckled as Bel lifted herself high enough to flop onto his stomach. The two giggled for a moment before the silence crept back in. It wasn’t long before they were both staring at the golden blade. Bel’s eyes broke the spell only to find a red envelope on the dresser next to the sword.

“What did you get this time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it the same one again?”

“It’s fine, Bel, I’ll be fine.”

“Tony come on, it’s only going to get worse.” Bel picked herself up, and Tony took the opening and pulled off the bed, snagging the blade from the dresser and latching it to his belt. Bel jumped for a final word but he was out the door. She sighed, glancing at the fine bloody cursive on the inside of the crimson letter.

“God damnit.”




The Hotel Eldradora was reclaimed by the state in 1975 when an investigation found that a the owners of the establishment had begun killing their guests in cold blood for reasons only ever explained as “to prove a point”. In 2010, the building was purchased by an unknown businessman by the name of Mikhael Grim. Of course Mikhael Grim is a horribly silly name, and quite frankly Tony never really understood how no one during the entire buying process ever commented on it. In reality the hotel was paid for by a man known only as Death, an entity similar to the being War, who appeared immediately after the first silver swords were found scattered across the city. The hotel now serves as a haven for Warriors, the unfortunate souls cursed with death or death by something else along the road.

Tony, among the others most senior to the fight, lived on the 7th floor. Those who were “chosen” earlier lived below, all the way down to the rooms on the first floor, or what were colloquially known as “The Motel”, since no one ever stays there very long.
Every now and then, those chosen by War receive letters. Tasks, orders, bargains, whatever you’d really want to call them, they ask for a simple act to be performed. Complete the task, and you are rewarded. Refuse the task, and something comes after you to kill you. Either way, he wins. Either way he gets his show.

Tony was always quick on his feet, his pace two steps ahead of anyone tailing him. He cleared the stairs down to the lobby in less than a minute, tuning out the crying and wailing that always seemed to echo from the Motel. It wasn’t like that solved anything for anyone.
He cruised through the elegant marble-floored foyer to the front desk, rapping his knuckles on the door to the concierge’s office.




Shuffle.

Deal.

An ace and a seven. Darn, not a four.

Pass.

I lose.

Mody grumbled to himself and picked up the cards he'd dealt. He always lost to the dealer, except he was the dealer, which meant he always beat that silly Asmodeus, he wasn't any good at cards.

A knock at the door came. A visitor. He smelled of gold and cologne, the air tasted of iron, devoid of blood for a change. Marcellotony. Tonymarcello? Asmodeus was not good with names.

He pulled on his crisp black leather gloves and adorned his favorite bowler hat. He set the monacle he'd been given by his sister onto one of his eyeholes, tidying himself up before approaching the doorway and giving it a gentle swing open.

Asmodeus was 4 inches and 4 feet. He had eye holes in his cloth that were 4 centimeters in diameter, and his cloth had four pointed sections, one in front, one in back, and two on the sides. His cloth was made of silk, a dark purple, almost black, but not black, not quite. He wore it because it helped people see him. He was hard to see sometimes. Death called him a "sheet ghost" sometimes, which he didn't mind, Death was silly.

Mody's hand floated high above his head in an energetic wave, his arm almost impossible to make out, its clear fluid form visible only under the sheen of a distant lamp. "Marcellotony, come to visit Mody while I do the workjob. Very nice, very kind. What can me do for Marcellotony?" His voice was faint, as if from a distance, but close, but far.
Tony nodded politely to the gentledemon, always impressed with his punctuality. “Any mail for me today?” he inquired, peeking back into the office for a loose parcel or two. Mody scratched a seemingly nonexistent chin before scurrying into the dank hole that was his home, returning with a leather-bound book which he set on the counter eagerly, stretching up to meet its height.
“Will that be all Marcellotony?”
“That will be all, Asmodeus.”
With a regal bow, the demon returned to his cards, mumbling his victories and of course losses as the door closed behind him. Tony took up the old text and glazed through its pages briefly. The History of War. A Glimpse Into The Minds of Our Greatest Conquerors & Warriors. He swung one leg around the other, leaning against the counter as he flipped to the first page, skimming for details between the lines.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by RedXCross
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Tobias’ stared at the card with a bored expression as he flipped the hard cardstock back in forth between his fingers before sliding it into his back pocket and walking towards the door. Never a good idea to make War wait, he found. If there was anything Tobias had learned after picking up that blade 5 years ago it was that the art of music and the art of war both had one thing in common: keeping tempo was paramount.

The blade itself had become a comfortable weight at his side. Sitting in the sheath that was placed on his bed the day he’d arrived here, it had become the ideal way for his Warbrand to sit at his side and absorb the enthralling soundwaves and music that would bounce around the world – or even just take in the sound of his record player as he flipped through some of the masters.

In reality, that record player was one of the few things he’d held onto before joining the fight.

Stepping into the hallway and walking towards the staircase, he took a moment to compose himself. His sunken eyes were red-ringed after a long couple days of battle with a conclave of foes – he’d only just gotten the blood off his shoes before he was given another task, but oh was it worth it.

He moved down the floors like an arrow towards its target. His sharp mind already beginning to understand how one might capture the CWI’s attention in a way that wouldn’t end with him in pieces on the ground.

He palmed his Warbrand’s hilt carefully and thought to the one method that always drew attention: A walk down a main street, a swing of his blade, and the shattering of windows and glass as the sound frequencies bring the glass to its breaking point. What stopped him from his usually determined tempo, however, was the older man standing at the counter, reading books on war strategy for whatever may be coming.

“War strategy? Wouldn’t that require an army of some sorts?” Tobias inquired, bringing his polished shoes to a stop in the lobby as he adjusted the collar of his long, dark coat so the sheath hid beneath the long drooping fabric, “Surely something on the art of the duel would be more beneficial.”

Arrogance? Probably. Despite his best intentions Tobias never seemed to parse the difference between “helpful” and “frustrating.” Then there was the other fact that he was sitting in a bee’s nest of Warriors, and that any two of them could be requested to kill each other at any time for the amusement of a faceless God – so strategy or anger is not the best way to save your skin.

But alas, it was always more fun to sing a different tune, and to disrupt the normal rhythms of the place.

“Anyhow, must be going,” Tobias yawned before pulling his hair back with his fingers, “Day of a warrior never ends, it seems.”

With that he began his walk towards the doorway with a subtle smile on his face, hoping that maybe today a child wouldn't look at him and ask if he was a vampire.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by RyuShura
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...

@RedXCross...

As Tobias exited the hotel building a lone figure waited for him beyond the glass doors, standing in the black lot.

'Terry' as he would know was not the same Terry he might've made acquaintance before. She had serious reservations about being around anyone, even those she held dearest to her heart. But whenever she was caught outside she always treated familiar faces with respect. Especially those who managed to last so long. It was hard making friends in this business, after all. No doubt he has heard the rumors surrounding the girl and her vicious dual nature. And seeing it unleashed in such a matter meant only one thing, not that there was any subtly in the matter.

The sweet little girl was nowhere to be found now. They shared her face, but this 'Terry' looked at him with an unguarded animosity, barely able to hold back its urge to leap.

Seeing him now, she quickly paced outside the perimeter, hefting the silvered blade in her small hands in anticipation. It was waiting for Tobias to exit the 'accepted' boundary, like a starving dog waiting for their ounce of meat. Adhering to this simple rule out of fear than anything else, this thing had no qualms regarding combat in broad daylight, or the fact that this is right in the middle of Jericho. In fact, it welcomed witnesses. It only opened the potential for more blood to be spilled. This being was the very thing 'War' wanted, was it not? Complete and unreserved chaos, the place and time irrelevant to the greater scheme.

No matter how one looked at it, there was no avoiding the matter.

...
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by RedXCross
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Tobias’ confident march away from the inn slowed to a cautious step as he noticed the figure waiting beyond the boundary. That familiar glint of silver caught his eye as he took in the first “breath of fresh air” he had received for the day. The sound of the busy streets was only a whisper on the horizon as his attention moved to Terry and her own Warbrand drawn and ready.

He cracked his neck and it resounded like a branch cracked on a barren road as Tobias stopped right where he knew the boundary would end.

Always good to remember that your life is always at stake, he thought calmly as he greeted Terry with a confident grin.

“Beautiful day for bloodshed, I expect you’d agree,” he smirked as he carefully unsheathed his own Warbrand. He couldn’t help but hum a simple not as he raised it to a proper position and took on his proper stance.

The blade in his hand was already quivering, humming gently in a soft note that was only loud enough to reach his own ears, but that could change in an instance once he was ready. Terry held a Warbrand and that was more than enough to make her more dangerous than most potential foes. It seemed that his only chance of appeasing the War God would begin with removing one of his chosen from the ranks.

He could already pick up the noises of people chattering. People beginning to crowd around the two figures in the center square, lights flickering from phone cameras as they witnessed what the unknowing public assumed was a show. He also noticed a few already stepping away. Like they knew what was coming. Like they knew the danger of what was in place.

Maybe this was exactly what he needed to lure the CWI out. Hopefully, there would be enough noise that he wouldn’t run out of sound stored in his blade.

“Well then,” Tobias grinned, “Allegro speed now. No need to make people wait.”
And with a careful step, he moved away from the boundary and squared up for battle.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by RyuShura
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@RedXCross...

'Terry' merely tilted their head and snarled, glaring at him with gleaming red eyes. Her voice seemed warped, choked behind this booming tone.

"Enough talking! Speak only with battle!"

In truth, the warriors did not need to kill one another when assigned one of their peers. They were hard enough to come by as it was, so War made do with the satisfaction of just a 'near death' beating. Though the Warbrand promised Terry it would relent once they got their 'fill', whether they planned to keep their word can only be proven at the anointed moment.

If past records are to go by, this possessed Terry was prone to making 'accidents'.

Watching Tobias take a ceremonious amount of time preparing for the fight, who tactfully readied his posture and took the scope of the surrounding scenery in with casual stride, annoyed the hooded warrior. They out a growl, the black and white raincoat twisting as it contorted to show its displeasure. It despised such things. Such a waste of time. But they knew to keep patient. It will all be worth it soon enough. Feeling the tension build up in the public space as the two warriors made themselves known was already making 'Terry' antsy. The hooded girl let out an unnatural laugh as it gleamed the innocent faces forming the crowd, feeling invigorated by the energy. Some of them would feel it hard to breathe suddenly, coughing as they were exposed to the canted power of her Warbrand. She could barely stop herself from drooling. Yes, more lambs coming for the slaughter.

This is just a taste... delicious morsels.

Finally, when Tobias stepped out, just as he cued, the battle began with a roaring upbeat.

'Terry' immediately lashed forward with their blade, like a beast snapping its head, the weapon hissing as it released a plume of noxious black fumes in its arc. Their bodies were more durable than any human, so the thing did not seem to care much about being tactical. Trading blow for blow was their intention. Quite a barbaric method, but it played to her advantage. One strike, a small nick, was all it needed to infect its prey, no matter her state afterwards. Then she can play patient, watch as they slowly and painfully succumb to the disease.

And for those particularly slippery targets, there was a countermeasure. Already, the area around the girl became difficult to tolerate. A leeching poison beyond any earthly comprehension began to take hold around her. It would take more time to take full effect, but already people around them were clutching their necks and gasping for air.

This left Tobias a grim foresight to the type of poison stored in her blade.

...
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