BurntBacon8r

Feral

I read B8con as "Bait-con"

All I can think of is a Fishing Convention

Feral

My hand slipped, I swear.

Oh my god I'm so sorry it took way too long to catch up. But now I'm back! For realsies this time!

Feral

There are three types of men in this world. The heroes, who rise to fight monsters against their will. The monsters, heroes who lost themselves to evil. And monsters who were redeemed, to become human again. But it is impossible to be certain which you are, until it is already too late.

---

Falling.

move…have to…move…need…friend…need to…

Chaos. Thoughts, swirling in an abyss.

Have to move…gotta…need to save…now…move now…don’t stop-

Diving. Wind rushing through feathers, through fur, drowning out the noise.

Diving…have to…move…have to move…have to move now HAVE TO MOVE NOW GO!

Landing. The ground rushed upwards, slowing to a halt as wings beat furiously. Dust flying, settling.

Breathe……

In front, the firing squad. Behind, a Daeva. Between them, a Pegasus.

Now gotta…escape!

Flying again. Muscles struggling against added weight.

Gunfire.

Then nothing.

=-=-=-=-=

Aldris woke with a start, the nightmare still fresh in the front of his mind. For a moment, he had trouble getting his bearings, before realizing he had woken in the makeshift infirmary of Shade’s home. Of the multiple beds, his was the only one with a resident, although one of the beds had the look of recent occupation. Hours, maybe even minutes recent.

He sat up ever so slowly, his muscles still remembering the multi-day flight, even after healing magic and more than a full day of rest. Very little would quickly repair the amount of wear and damage he had sustained. The only reason he even knew where he was, was the pain keeping him awake through the exhaustion in the initial hours of his arrival. Setting his elongated jaw in preparation, he stood up…

…And promptly fell flat on his face as his legs gave way. With an effort, he forced himself to his feet again, this time much more slowly. He remained standing this time, but there was certainly a lot less strength in his legs than there was before. It was obvious visually, too; the intense exertion of the flight had begun eating away at muscles not being used at the time, leaving his legs and arms both thinner than before. Some heavy therapy, maybe some magic, would fix that in relatively short order, butit would be an arduous process.

He was dimly aware of the fact that he wore nothing but undergarments, but this was no surprise. He had often needed to shed clothing quickly to transform, or lose whatever he had been wearing. In this case, he had lost what he had been wearing when the boat had been attacked. He tried not to think about how the undergarments had arrived on his body. For the time being, he took stock of the rest of his physical situation, and mulled over his options.

Apart from being a little weaker in limbs, he was otherwise apparently unharmed. The healing magic had done that plenty well. His wings felt just as sturdy as before – a fact he was extremely glad of. A few days of physical therapy could not equate to a lifetime of practice and strengthening. He also still had the issue of a lack of clothes, as well as the more pressing issue of being entirely alone, and having no money whatsoever. The part of him that remembered the Dumont underground made him wish for a means of defense, as well, and he suddenly longed for the familiar weight of a taught bow in his hand.

With little other option, he found a servant, and was able to borrow a simple tunic and leggings. How he knew there were servants around was beyond him, but that didn’t matter any more. What mattered was finding somebody who knew what was going on, and could help fill in the blanks. The servant had mentioned some inventor’s games – that was as good a place to try as any. With that in mind, he took wing and leapt to the skies.

---

Business. Why was it always business? Was there no time for pleasure in a world such as this? Sel mused such thoughts to himself as he walked towards the office of a high councilman. The council member Macto, Keeper of Foreign Matters, to be precise. A letter had been sent ahead informing the seraphim of the current situation, now was the time for follow-up. Now that an entire illegal crime ring had been taken out, and almost killed three party members in the process.

Sel was, in fact, still recovering from that, although he showed little sign of it as he walked. Physically, he was fine, although there was a cut in his left shoulder that had not taken well to healing magics. Mentally speaking…well, trying to cast complex magic the morning after had been a huge mistake, and the cause of an hour-long migraine. He was almost completely drained right now, after casting the same high-level spell twice in a matter of days. Once to fight a kraken, the next to take out a terrifyingly powerful elemental Daeva not one day before. His hand was still bandaged from where the backwash of energy had burned it, although healing had left it a soft, tender red for now.

He grunted, annoyed that he could not have been healed further, but forced to be satisfied with what he had. The poor Daeva in the bed beside him – I need to ask his name! – had it far worse, from the looks of things. Outwardly fine, but clearly beyond exhausted. If there had ever been a reason to be satisfied with less, that was it. The kid had still been sleeping when Sel left, somehow. It was incredible that someone could sleep that long.

He arrived at the front gates of the embassy, and squared his shoulders, making his imposing figure even moreso. He rapped the knocker three times, before crossing his arms to wait for the servant who would no doubt arrive shortly. He expressed a hint of annoyance upon finding out that the councilman was otherwise tied up, but it was to be expected, seeing as how he had not set up an appointment. The servant, however, showed him to a seat and sent word ahead to Macto that an old acquaintance had arrived. Whether the councilman liked it or not, he would at least hear of the downfall of Halden. If all went well, perhaps he might even be able to elaborate on the details of his letter – if all went well.

---

Hunger. I’m Hungry. Feed me. FEED ME! The thoughts rose to a shout in Gael’s mind, but they were not his own. Across his back, the broadsword he carried almost seemed to writhe, as it screamed at him. No! There are too many innocents! I will not let you feed today! he shot back at the blade, a silent conversation no one but himself could hear. Squall, that living blade of his, had not been fed in days, not since the soldiers had attacked him at that godforsaken outpost in the middle of nowhere.

It was a terrible experience, carrying this blade. It needed to feed, to stay alive, but he was not sure why it needed to remain so. The blade was evil, in every sense of the word, even Gael, twisted over years by violence and bloodshed, knew how evil the blade was. Yet, he was forced to carry it, to keep it alive, in the hopes that one day it might become a weapon to save everyone.

Right now though, it was hungry. It wanted blood. And it sensed violence in the city. Specifically, in the lower regions, where bar fights broke out on a regular basis. There was one happening now, as a matter of fact. Not hours before, a fight had broken out in the middle of the noble’s quarter. When the blade was hungry, he knew. Stubbornly, he moved in to opposite direction of the sense of violence. Right now, He wanted to feed the blade, to be rid of the shouting voice, the whispering screams, but here would not do. This was not the place for it.

Suddenly, and without warning, he sensed another wave of violence. A single blow, but seen by hundreds of thousands of people. A public execution? That was the only explanation. A corpse was already dead – there would be no harm in stabbing it further. Such meals were usually refused, but for now it would sate the bloodthirst of the metal on his back for long enough to leave the city and find a proper victim. He headed in the direction of the feeling, of the feeling of anxiety and worry and confusion. He wanted to get eyes on that body, and not let it leave his sight. A manic grin formed on his face, even though he did not realize it.

Shock & A.W.E. [Redux]

The drop down to the surface was hectic, at best. At worst, it was a downright terrifying first experience. The initial excitement lasted through the loading of the pod, past the humming of conveyer belts and the massive WHUNK as the pod fired down towards the service. Wolf felt his blood boiling with anticipation as they picked up speed; then, in a single second, all of the excitement was replaced by fear, as the first barrage of acid blasts hit the shell of the pod.

Wolf was suddenly aware of the heat in the pod around him. It was not from inside, this time, but it was from the outside, leaking through after the long burn through the upper atmosphere. The violent jolt had just as easily jolted Wolf to the grim pseudo-reality around him – in his mind, he knew it was only a simulation, yet the danger was all too real. It was something he had never quite fully experienced before. There was little he could do to help Richard – the Englishman had access to almost all of the controls, and was handling them rather adeptly. Wolf kept his face grim, closing his eyes in preparation for the impact. He steeled himself, ignoring Richard’s cursing and shouting, until…

WHOOM! The pod slammed into the ground, sending earth and stone in all directions. The doors blasted open, followed closely by blasts of shrapnel. In seconds, there was a 20-meter-wide space clear of hostiles – and plenty of room to go crazy. Wolf stepped out of the pod, and as terrifying as the DEMON was, the Helios had its own presence on the battlefield. The remnants of GHOST engineering became apparent as heat vents all across the gold-and red carapace opened, expelling jets of flame. For a moment, the Helios was wreathed in astral fire, appearing more of living flame than metal.

Wolf punched the air in front of him, ejecting an empty shell from his machine gun, before dropping into his ready stance. The other two pods had already dropped, and now the saurids were closing in. “Team Rapid, both members accounted for. Engaging!” Even before he finished, the Helios was leaping into the air, the thrusters all along the frame roaring to life as they propelled him into the air. He twisted, firing a triple-set of missiles from his shoulder, clearing his landing zone, before landing in a shower of heat and fire. It was a fraction of a second; he fired a pair of shotgun shells into the creatures and laid down a volley of machine-gun fire, all the while moving with the slashing DEMON. He was dimly aware of the other A.W.E.’s efforts to combat the saurids, but they were only a direction to move. He thought he could faintly hear humming in the background, but it was only a distraction.

He was in the raw heat of combat now.

Shock & A.W.E. [Redux]

Strategy had always been a strong point of Wolf’s interests. He wasn’t the best, but he loved playing out each scenario in his mind, and as each of the team’s members contributed their own thoughts, he imagined all the different ways each could go right – or wrong. The fact that Hu-Shi’s A.W.E. used tank treads would play an important factor in the future – here, however, it would be useful mostly for crushing the occasional abandoned car underfoot. Small cars, anyway. The fact that she carried extra batteries, however, was extremely valuable – the Helios’s insane speeds came with a heavy cost, in the form of a very fast energy burn, as much so as the DEMON that Richard piloted.

Speaking of which…the team went silent as Richard opened communications with the ground forces. The situation was grim – they were already down to a Lieutenant in charge. His computer system immediately pulled up the relevant information, including background and location, but there was nothing important, so he banished the information. The description of Saurids, however, was much more important – and even before Richard relayed the articles, Wolf already had the information locked in his mind. Disruption would be more important than ever here – the slimers wouldn’t be much issue, unless their aim was perfect, but getting too close to the Tearers would be bad news for the Rapid team.

Thessalia locked in the final plans, much to his enjoyment. It would be an on-the-fly mission – his favorite kind. Then came the words he had been waiting to hear for hours now – “Squad One, get ready for Orbital Drop.” Wolf let slip an almost Feral grin, and joined the team in the rush to the Drop Bays. Richard was waiting for them, and was just finishing his maintenance checks. Smoke launchers for all…except the two of them. Wolf grinned again, knowing what the Skyshards could do, and what they meant. His blood was flowing hot now.

Wolf walked up to his own machine, the front face split open to allow him to step in. He ran a hand along the gleaming red curve of the arm, before turning to face out and stepping back into the exoskeleton, as he had done so many times before. Mechanical locks clicked in place, as the entire machine close around him, and he felt a familiar *zitch!* as the neural bridge connected him to the suit. Sensors along the entire suit came to life, and he was no longer Wolf, piloting a suit – he was Helios. With a thought, he extended heat expulsion plates along the entire curvature of the frame, causing the entire machine to appear to ripple, and the mounted guns lifted and sunk back into the frame after a brief delay. He rolled his shoulders and head, the suit mimicking his movements perfectly.

“Helios, all systems functional. Ready to Drop. Let’s Rock n’ Roll!”

Feral

wild-kitsune said
Seems par for the course for our group.In related news, I'm getting caught up on the most recent posts and will have something up for at least a few people by tonightEDIT: In UNrelated news, any good shows airing this season other than JoJo part 3 and the continuation of HxH?

Kill la kill just finished, that was pretty good. If you like anime, that is.

Feral

Feral

I prefer to fight zombies in style:

Feral

Also, as a reminder, if I ever dissapear for long periods of time, feel free to bludgeon me with reminders. All my other active accounts are in my Sig :V

Feral

My apologies for disappearing into the nether realms, but I return! I'm gonna catch up on the IC in the next day or two, in the meantime, have I missed anything drastically important I have to deal with? Or have you all collectively decided to kill off my characters and let me cry in a corner in a pool of my own blubbering tears? (Been super busy with stuff lately, but I should be good after Easter weekend is over!)