I wonder why these kind of rules arent pinned.
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Idea no longer speaks to us.
Colossus is nothing but a husk.
This is not our home.
This is Hell.
A set of atramentous eyes broke open. In that moment, Amphiprioninae witnessed all of everything but could see nothing. Val’garan space was void of light. Without much forethought, he instinctively knew it was time to move again. Megalodon had to be awakened.
No longer could he sense life in his home world. Sal’chazzar was gone, Behemoth had been sapped dry and The Cataclysm were absent. Colossus was murdered, all on Disciple’s watch. He had naively entrusted a power other than their own, and thus, the entire race was vagabonded. He was never fit to lead. Without the guidance of Idea the Val’gara were…weak. Their fate presently rested in the hands of a devilish fiend, Singar. He took only what he was allowed to but as vulnerable as they were currently, the demon still threaded murky waters. His repugnant aura would not be forgotten by the few that could seriously harm him.
Megalodon crawled out the half eaten carcass of a dreadnaught. His body, stained in blood, reeked of rotten odors. Considering what was at stake, his posture was rather composed. Amphiprioninae on the other hand vortexed around his bowl rapidly. Megalodon sensed a rage that even surpassed his own and in respect, he abided to his symbiotic partner’s will.
Despite Singar being long gone the words of the demon rang in the clownfish’s head.
"Hidden in the realm of the God of Light... Hidden on a world where science has run mad... You have no choice but to trust me."
“No, Fuck you, Fuck Hellion, Fuck Thane, and FUCK DISCIPLE! WE AS A RACE ARE NOT SUBMISSIVE. WE ARE THE FORCE IN THE UNIVERSE THAT WILL ASSIMILATE ALL THAT IS!”
Naturally, Disciple sensed the discontent in the herald but he wouldn’t feel alarmed until he felt tremors all throughout. Enraged, Amphiprioninae tapped into a power the opposing herald was unaware of. It was profound and caused the entirety of its mother’s husk to rumble. By all accounts should Colossus have been dead but here it was, moving. In combination, they actually possessed the ability to manipulate seismic energies and its home was no exception. Megalodon could pull Colossus in its entirety into one solid mass but that was not the lone goal. They used it as a means to distribute its aura in hopes of defibrillating the planet. The result was something no one could have foreseen. It was the catalyst that spurred a measure Colossus could naturally carry out, even in death.
In an instant, a sensation overtook Disciple’s body...
He knew he was in danger. Instantly in retaliation, Megalodon felt the opposing herald attempt to probe his and his partners mind.
“I am the will of Colossus, do not act foolishly. You have all the reason to be angry at first glance but my decision will only benefit us, Indeed!”
His attempts at persuasion went on deaf ears as Amphiprioninae was very much capable of deflecting his pheromones. The symbiotic duo was hell bent on reviving its mother and nothing could stop them. Aware of this, Disciple attempted to stop them from manipulating Colossus by force.
“You two of all Heralds will not defy me.”
Immediately he attempted to exert his dominance of them and It became a power struggle of psionic juggernauts with neither giving leeway to the other. In this current state of rage Amphiprioninae’s psychic prowess evolved far beyond what Disciple was capable of overtaking. Taken aback by the resistance, he became blinded to the closest threat to him, and because of this, his efforts of coercion were short lived. A seemingly infinite number of fleshly limbs erupted and weaved their way from Colossus from every conceivable angle ensnaring him. Once binded, he was dragged to the depths of the once sundered mass of its Mother and submerged temporarily in its expanse of flesh. From there he could hear another voice speaking to him.
“I am the only true interpreter of Colossus…Of Idea.”
Was it the planet speaking to him itself? Who else could claim such a thing?
It appeared his home turned against him but that wasn’t entirely the truth. It wasn’t exactly his mother. Physically it was, but its soul was long gone. What was reanimated to his dread before him was the last evolutionary measure of Colossus to live on. This process could only be spurred by the efforts of select heralds. Amphiprioninae was the only present who could so such and he and Megalodon did by instinct.
All of the remaining bioforce and potential mental prowess of every unborn creature in Colossus pooled into a single identity. It merged not only each creature’s mass but parts of the planet itself, forming someone who unlike Disciple was fit to represent the true will of Colossus in its current absence. Caorthannach broke the shell of Colossus like an egg, sending ripples throughout the galaxy and thus a massive creature was born. She was the final product of the Val’gara home world but was not fated to be the last as a new home was to be fostered.
Roughly, her mass was on par if not larger currently larger than Brobdingnag even though the bulk of her body remained coiled. Megalodon had been tossed aside in her eruption from the crust but remained close enough to watch the phenomenon take place. Her body stretched long enough to house a million individual limbs. A colossal chelae-like extension unfurled from her and lifted the shark herald to her illuminating eyes. At the pace in which he was elevated, his skin began to burn and defensive measures were taken in a similar manner to when he had torpedoed through space.
Despite his large frame Megalodon was only a speck in comparison but was seen and handled with precision. He was the first Herald she directly engaged with and her words left both symbiotic partners astonished.
“Satisfactory.”
Somewhat agape, not only Amphiprioninae, but Megalodon could not believe what he had heard. Caorthannach spoke with the wisdom of all that was Colossus. Considering much of her physical makeup was of the same cells it was no surprise she could recollect the events of her Mother’s life. With that, she understood she was in the right to scold many of the Heralds and so she would starting with Megalodon.
“It was not your decision but my existence is merely the product of your failure. None of you are without fault. Shame has been brought upon us and I am filled with wrath. Much of my nature is similar to mothers. I cannot will myself to destroy you but I will discipline many, beginning with my predecessor.”
Brought to Megalodon’s vision was the Herald he recently waged in psychic warfare with, immobilized by Caorthannach’s psychic aptitude. Disciple was dwarfed in comparison. As large as she was the smugness of her character was at full exhibition when she addressed him.
“Disciple, must I remind you of your sins or should I assume you already know the repercussions of garnering the soul of Mother to an external force? So irresponsible. Can you grasp why this endangers us as a race? Singar has corrupted you but you can atone. You were not the first to stray so you are not entirely at fault. Even as we speak, Brobdingnag is no longer aligned with us. The Sounder has been shamelessly detained and he and Anathemas whereabouts are unknown. Hellion revolted and died dishonorably short after. Most importantly, The Stalker is in the same position as you, having disgraced our home.”
Unwavering, Disciple defended his actions. He understood what he was up against and was prepared to debate, however, he also understood she did not appear on accident.
“What I did was justified through the will of Colossus. She will live now. It is just no longer is entirely dependent on us.”
Having said what she desired, Caorthannach was not even remotely interested in his response. She did not need him. Her connection to Colossus was stronger than any Herald ever conceived and unsurprisingly she felt superior because of it. She could even sense the soul of her mother at this very moment. However, despite her profound connection to the soul, she could not pinpoint the exact location. It was being obstructed by an external force that in any other case would have made it completely undetectable.
In response, she separated Megalodon and Disciple widely, sentencing them to two different fates. She dropped the shark and instantaneously struck him, forcefully propelling him through space, warping him to interrogate the nearest Herald she sensed. This brought him to the atmosphere of Soran above Liaita. On arrival, Megalodon released a roar that not only announced his arrival but had apparent effects on the weather as well. A massive unannounced storm of heavy rains developed over the entire continent with no signs of easing up. Slowly he’d descend.
As for Disciple…
He wasn’t as fortunate to get the opportunity to right his wrongs, at least not now. All that was remaining of Colossus that did not merge with Caorthannach clung to him, irresistibly cocooning his frame and entrapping him in a three-time sized Jupiter prison of extremely dense flesh manipulated by her to resist and suppress his abilities.
“I have made my decision; here you will keep Mother’s seat warm, alone.”
Afterward, she’d swim off past Glaceria and into the darkness. Where she went was much of a mystery to everyone, though she knew.
Colossus is nothing but a husk.
This is not our home.
This is Hell.
A set of atramentous eyes broke open. In that moment, Amphiprioninae witnessed all of everything but could see nothing. Val’garan space was void of light. Without much forethought, he instinctively knew it was time to move again. Megalodon had to be awakened.
No longer could he sense life in his home world. Sal’chazzar was gone, Behemoth had been sapped dry and The Cataclysm were absent. Colossus was murdered, all on Disciple’s watch. He had naively entrusted a power other than their own, and thus, the entire race was vagabonded. He was never fit to lead. Without the guidance of Idea the Val’gara were…weak. Their fate presently rested in the hands of a devilish fiend, Singar. He took only what he was allowed to but as vulnerable as they were currently, the demon still threaded murky waters. His repugnant aura would not be forgotten by the few that could seriously harm him.
Megalodon crawled out the half eaten carcass of a dreadnaught. His body, stained in blood, reeked of rotten odors. Considering what was at stake, his posture was rather composed. Amphiprioninae on the other hand vortexed around his bowl rapidly. Megalodon sensed a rage that even surpassed his own and in respect, he abided to his symbiotic partner’s will.
Despite Singar being long gone the words of the demon rang in the clownfish’s head.
"Hidden in the realm of the God of Light... Hidden on a world where science has run mad... You have no choice but to trust me."
“No, Fuck you, Fuck Hellion, Fuck Thane, and FUCK DISCIPLE! WE AS A RACE ARE NOT SUBMISSIVE. WE ARE THE FORCE IN THE UNIVERSE THAT WILL ASSIMILATE ALL THAT IS!”
Naturally, Disciple sensed the discontent in the herald but he wouldn’t feel alarmed until he felt tremors all throughout. Enraged, Amphiprioninae tapped into a power the opposing herald was unaware of. It was profound and caused the entirety of its mother’s husk to rumble. By all accounts should Colossus have been dead but here it was, moving. In combination, they actually possessed the ability to manipulate seismic energies and its home was no exception. Megalodon could pull Colossus in its entirety into one solid mass but that was not the lone goal. They used it as a means to distribute its aura in hopes of defibrillating the planet. The result was something no one could have foreseen. It was the catalyst that spurred a measure Colossus could naturally carry out, even in death.
In an instant, a sensation overtook Disciple’s body...
He knew he was in danger. Instantly in retaliation, Megalodon felt the opposing herald attempt to probe his and his partners mind.
“I am the will of Colossus, do not act foolishly. You have all the reason to be angry at first glance but my decision will only benefit us, Indeed!”
His attempts at persuasion went on deaf ears as Amphiprioninae was very much capable of deflecting his pheromones. The symbiotic duo was hell bent on reviving its mother and nothing could stop them. Aware of this, Disciple attempted to stop them from manipulating Colossus by force.
“You two of all Heralds will not defy me.”
Immediately he attempted to exert his dominance of them and It became a power struggle of psionic juggernauts with neither giving leeway to the other. In this current state of rage Amphiprioninae’s psychic prowess evolved far beyond what Disciple was capable of overtaking. Taken aback by the resistance, he became blinded to the closest threat to him, and because of this, his efforts of coercion were short lived. A seemingly infinite number of fleshly limbs erupted and weaved their way from Colossus from every conceivable angle ensnaring him. Once binded, he was dragged to the depths of the once sundered mass of its Mother and submerged temporarily in its expanse of flesh. From there he could hear another voice speaking to him.
“I am the only true interpreter of Colossus…Of Idea.”
Was it the planet speaking to him itself? Who else could claim such a thing?
It appeared his home turned against him but that wasn’t entirely the truth. It wasn’t exactly his mother. Physically it was, but its soul was long gone. What was reanimated to his dread before him was the last evolutionary measure of Colossus to live on. This process could only be spurred by the efforts of select heralds. Amphiprioninae was the only present who could so such and he and Megalodon did by instinct.
All of the remaining bioforce and potential mental prowess of every unborn creature in Colossus pooled into a single identity. It merged not only each creature’s mass but parts of the planet itself, forming someone who unlike Disciple was fit to represent the true will of Colossus in its current absence. Caorthannach broke the shell of Colossus like an egg, sending ripples throughout the galaxy and thus a massive creature was born. She was the final product of the Val’gara home world but was not fated to be the last as a new home was to be fostered.
Roughly, her mass was on par if not larger currently larger than Brobdingnag even though the bulk of her body remained coiled. Megalodon had been tossed aside in her eruption from the crust but remained close enough to watch the phenomenon take place. Her body stretched long enough to house a million individual limbs. A colossal chelae-like extension unfurled from her and lifted the shark herald to her illuminating eyes. At the pace in which he was elevated, his skin began to burn and defensive measures were taken in a similar manner to when he had torpedoed through space.
Despite his large frame Megalodon was only a speck in comparison but was seen and handled with precision. He was the first Herald she directly engaged with and her words left both symbiotic partners astonished.
“Satisfactory.”
Somewhat agape, not only Amphiprioninae, but Megalodon could not believe what he had heard. Caorthannach spoke with the wisdom of all that was Colossus. Considering much of her physical makeup was of the same cells it was no surprise she could recollect the events of her Mother’s life. With that, she understood she was in the right to scold many of the Heralds and so she would starting with Megalodon.
“It was not your decision but my existence is merely the product of your failure. None of you are without fault. Shame has been brought upon us and I am filled with wrath. Much of my nature is similar to mothers. I cannot will myself to destroy you but I will discipline many, beginning with my predecessor.”
Brought to Megalodon’s vision was the Herald he recently waged in psychic warfare with, immobilized by Caorthannach’s psychic aptitude. Disciple was dwarfed in comparison. As large as she was the smugness of her character was at full exhibition when she addressed him.
“Disciple, must I remind you of your sins or should I assume you already know the repercussions of garnering the soul of Mother to an external force? So irresponsible. Can you grasp why this endangers us as a race? Singar has corrupted you but you can atone. You were not the first to stray so you are not entirely at fault. Even as we speak, Brobdingnag is no longer aligned with us. The Sounder has been shamelessly detained and he and Anathemas whereabouts are unknown. Hellion revolted and died dishonorably short after. Most importantly, The Stalker is in the same position as you, having disgraced our home.”
Unwavering, Disciple defended his actions. He understood what he was up against and was prepared to debate, however, he also understood she did not appear on accident.
“What I did was justified through the will of Colossus. She will live now. It is just no longer is entirely dependent on us.”
Having said what she desired, Caorthannach was not even remotely interested in his response. She did not need him. Her connection to Colossus was stronger than any Herald ever conceived and unsurprisingly she felt superior because of it. She could even sense the soul of her mother at this very moment. However, despite her profound connection to the soul, she could not pinpoint the exact location. It was being obstructed by an external force that in any other case would have made it completely undetectable.
In response, she separated Megalodon and Disciple widely, sentencing them to two different fates. She dropped the shark and instantaneously struck him, forcefully propelling him through space, warping him to interrogate the nearest Herald she sensed. This brought him to the atmosphere of Soran above Liaita. On arrival, Megalodon released a roar that not only announced his arrival but had apparent effects on the weather as well. A massive unannounced storm of heavy rains developed over the entire continent with no signs of easing up. Slowly he’d descend.
As for Disciple…
He wasn’t as fortunate to get the opportunity to right his wrongs, at least not now. All that was remaining of Colossus that did not merge with Caorthannach clung to him, irresistibly cocooning his frame and entrapping him in a three-time sized Jupiter prison of extremely dense flesh manipulated by her to resist and suppress his abilities.
“I have made my decision; here you will keep Mother’s seat warm, alone.”
Afterward, she’d swim off past Glaceria and into the darkness. Where she went was much of a mystery to everyone, though she knew.
[RESERVED]
Kismet was closer than ever to elder scorpion morph. A matter of time was all it was. Considering the steps in preparation it took, it was odd to see him so…impatient. This chase neared millennia but never once in that span was he within the distance to salivate as he currently was. It was he thought about. Only hours removed of Sinclair and Eals visit, he could sit idle no more.
“Vhadgeid, you’ve arrived I assume.”
“I have.”
“Excellent, I will say this once. Administer order. Do as you see fit under Ak’Neshian code…”
Despite how Silexies flaunted his control over Sinclair he knew it was wise to surveillance everything he took part in. This meant ensuring he knew everything that was going on. It was perhaps the perfect opportunity to test the current Vhadgeid’s intention as her apprenticeship was approaching its end.
Cigány Cnidaria was now at Gereza.
Intersecting glyphs crossed Cigány’s pupil lacking eyes and lined her entire frame symmetrically. Long sea anemone like extensions protruded from her back, sides and head, forming a multicolored weave of a braided mane and majestic wings. Her legs were unproportionally long and bird like. Many considered her to be the pinnacle of Cizran beauty. Her flamboyant appearance was an invite to many to marvel but it came with its risks. Any sexual partner of hers eloped with death afterwards. Many types of spiritual energies and genes were sapped from her mates and stored within her in hope to ideally birth the next evolution of Cizrans.
Should she ever be democratically elected to do so she’d trigger her pregnancy and develop an advanced fetus. For now her pudenda remained a graveyard of former Cizrans. It was a great honor to have mated with a Cizran Hyacinth but her succubus-like tendencies were not to be displayed in the immediate future.
As a Vhadgeid, Cigány had been assigned to knowingly cover her superior’s tracks as her last act of duty. Though much of her thoughts questioned the Elder’s actions the Ak’Neshian code prohibited speaking out as it was clear Silexies wanted to utilize the tool for the presumed good of all Cizrans. Until he provided her reason to believe the opposite she had no reason to strike him down.
She arrived accompanied by a Cizran Escadrille and took no time to throw the entire faculty in disarray. By custom they were to prepare for a Vhadgeid or anyone higher beforehand should they visit.
“Unacceptable…” she scoffed
At first sight of her from a distance a swarm of Gerzas guards flew out the gates to serenade her as a part of their formal introductory customs. Despite this she was mildly angered. To show her unsatisfactory Cigány closed her eyes which signaled she was about to enter. Guard after guard laid down in her path, forming an entrance mat only to have their backs lacerated by her obsidian talons. Even as she finally reached the end of the path made mat they were still not permitted to rise until she officially left the room.
“Where is Sinclair, and why were preparations not met for my arrival. ”
“Vhadgeid, I assure you no notice was sent out and Sinclair has left on investigational matters directed under Silexies” Front desk secretary Yamel Tao’Zoag spoke. Of course she knew this already.He spoke the truth. There was no notice sent out but Cigány simply lied and at that moment someone would be deemed liable for the miscommunication.
“I do not accept that answer. Find who is responsible, Yamel” Cigány barked with conviction. Someone would have to take the fall, even if there was no one virtually at fault. Perhaps it would be one of the several hundred and easily disposable servitors drowned in meaningless paperwork. Only time would tell.
Though Silexies’ apprentice made a huge scene it would be foolish to think she did not have personal agenda to follow. She would find out how much this prison knew in regards to Eal’s escape and she would find a cover. The high and mighty act was not all a façade, however. She did generally find pleasure in the way she conducted herself. The workers were in for a rough time.
“Where is Mado-Keno?”
---
“Suddenly I have what I desire.” This voice resonated in Kirri’s mind but it was unclear who it was or what the message meant. Utilizing the fire stone, many of the Killimaran’s questions were answered, but it came with its price. Unaware, he opened his soul to Kaan but the timing was what saved him in the end from falling to the same fate as the swordsman before him.
He could sense him but…he couldn’t quite locate him. Reason so? Kaan had regained his strength to a point where could be felt wherever hatred was on Killimara. His essence was virtually everywhere but a stronger presence noticeably closed in on the alien warrior. Kirri’s mind was overwritten with all the knowledge he wanted to know, including how and why the situation reached such a point. It did not come easy on the heart, however. He could feel the very pulse of every Killimaran individually and he could sense that half now ticked at a different tune. Inside roughly a third existed a dark aura not natural to his species. Many of his species became meek puppets parading in plain sight ready to be flipped like a switch. Before Kirri could properly weigh his options his attention would be averted to the swordsman who had only just recently joined the fight unexpectedly beside him.
The trio of Hellseeds and their army were not defeated by any means but a change in their aggressive behavior was apparent. For a moment the raging army of Hellseeds paused. They watched almost as if they were anticipating something and they were.
And then, it happened…
Lysander, the rowdy intruder arrived on Killimara for an insane task, to consume a Hellseed. He’d accomplish that today. His sword stood tall, simultaneously holding the enlarged flaming heart down while he began to absorb its power. His muscles became increasingly tense as he attempted to harness the influx of power. On the surface, it appeared the mission was a success!
“I DID IT! HAHAHA. I ATE A HELLSEED. I AM THE BEST.” he continually boasted, completely unaware of what misfortune he willfully subjugated himself to. Maybe he’d realize when he couldn’t move his limbs but he was so high off the raw spectacle of his dream being fulfilled that he laughed hysterically. His world became dark. The scenery around him faded into a deep blackness.
“Fall…”
Instantaneously, the swordsman was brought to his knees. His high pitched laugh suddenly cracked, resembling an air horn before his body adopted a crippling state. One in which he could not longer properly speak. His words no longer had form, just obfuscated noises lashing out. His eyes no longer had splits in their lids and could not open.
“Awth si paephning to me? Ihts hsoludn’t… be hpnapneig…”
“This is what you wanted. A fiendish voice echoed.”
A tall figure sauntered from what could be gauged as a dozen meters away. He could only sense the malicious intent. He didn’t even have the privilege of seeing his abuser.
“You foolishly expose your soul and wage tug of war with a Demilich? Simply unwise. I am thankful for what you have given me, however. I have received collectively more than the majority of beings who inhabit this planet but you are at most a fool who is unworthy of damnation.”
“Utb I ma hte best!!!”
“Silence…”
After hearing such he could barely sustain consciousness. At this point the swordsman was leaning on his own sword for support. Menacingly standing over his body, Kaan placed his grotesque hand on Lysander’s head to relay a message. Aside from absorbing his and the swords energy he had one final task for him.
Kirri could only watch the man be slain by an invisible apparition. The strongest sense of Kaans energy was right before him and thus he’d be drawn to it. When an entirely different voice vibrated out of the throat of the swordsman it was clear who addressed him.
“Kirri… What will you decide? Will you continue to resist my influence? I have regained much of my power in such a short time. You cannot realistically hope to oppose me at the cost of your clan. The iscariotic feelings you sense in them are indeed permanent but you can extinguish the threat albeit you give a sacrifice of those already tainted. Malicious I am, but greed is something that escapes me. A small patronage is all I desire for the salvation of your species. Take this gift and do as I asked. What you do afterwards with it is entirely up to you.”
Before Kirri could answer, Lysander began to move again, coughing up liters of blood. His eyes, rolled well beyond backwards and it was apparent something was lodged in his throat. His hands forcefully entered his mouth and removed a folded page of archaic glyphs and inscriptions. It was bloodstained but power instilled within it was also codependent on the wielders will of mind. It could be the catalyst for scaling manipulation depending on the user. It left the hands of the man and made its way to Kirri, unfolding in the process.
The sword wielder finally fainted, planking on the desert floor. He wasn’t dead but he has served his purpose. Here in Kirri’s hand was an entire page of Aldaraia. The entire fate of Killimara. What will he do?
---
Outside of the chapel’s walls, two silhouettes conversed in a curtain of dusk. They were unseen, unsettled and unsure which course of action to move forward with. Opposing ideals and personalities’ were on full display, but the reality of how difficult the task they were assigned dejected their spirits. Neither soul had conviction in their opposites’ aptitude. Cooperation was key but bound to fail. Polluting the air were spiteful ambitions and intentions. Should they combine their efforts it was possible but should was an often a mere word of futility. It is a word often associated with what ended up not happening. It belonged in a parallel universe. It belonged ironically within another dimension of space, as did Eal Sermonde. At least this was how Ichor viewed the obstacle proposed.
He desired the coordinates and to banish Sermonde back to his Cell. The prospect of that idea was shot down by the feeling that a real bout would erupt between them here and now. One he could not win without disposing of his faux Cizran form. A fallout of that magnitude would no doubt bring unwanted attention to his superior. As much as he longed for Silexies’ demise an action like that exposed him also and to risk that for this individual would be uncharacteristically undisciplined of him. He thought hard to calculate a solution. The only option was the use his political clout for an unauthorized departure to the desired location.
So many options…
Perhaps a Wraith.
“Vhadgeid, you’ve arrived I assume.”
“I have.”
“Excellent, I will say this once. Administer order. Do as you see fit under Ak’Neshian code…”
Despite how Silexies flaunted his control over Sinclair he knew it was wise to surveillance everything he took part in. This meant ensuring he knew everything that was going on. It was perhaps the perfect opportunity to test the current Vhadgeid’s intention as her apprenticeship was approaching its end.
Cigány Cnidaria was now at Gereza.
Intersecting glyphs crossed Cigány’s pupil lacking eyes and lined her entire frame symmetrically. Long sea anemone like extensions protruded from her back, sides and head, forming a multicolored weave of a braided mane and majestic wings. Her legs were unproportionally long and bird like. Many considered her to be the pinnacle of Cizran beauty. Her flamboyant appearance was an invite to many to marvel but it came with its risks. Any sexual partner of hers eloped with death afterwards. Many types of spiritual energies and genes were sapped from her mates and stored within her in hope to ideally birth the next evolution of Cizrans.
Should she ever be democratically elected to do so she’d trigger her pregnancy and develop an advanced fetus. For now her pudenda remained a graveyard of former Cizrans. It was a great honor to have mated with a Cizran Hyacinth but her succubus-like tendencies were not to be displayed in the immediate future.
As a Vhadgeid, Cigány had been assigned to knowingly cover her superior’s tracks as her last act of duty. Though much of her thoughts questioned the Elder’s actions the Ak’Neshian code prohibited speaking out as it was clear Silexies wanted to utilize the tool for the presumed good of all Cizrans. Until he provided her reason to believe the opposite she had no reason to strike him down.
She arrived accompanied by a Cizran Escadrille and took no time to throw the entire faculty in disarray. By custom they were to prepare for a Vhadgeid or anyone higher beforehand should they visit.
“Unacceptable…” she scoffed
At first sight of her from a distance a swarm of Gerzas guards flew out the gates to serenade her as a part of their formal introductory customs. Despite this she was mildly angered. To show her unsatisfactory Cigány closed her eyes which signaled she was about to enter. Guard after guard laid down in her path, forming an entrance mat only to have their backs lacerated by her obsidian talons. Even as she finally reached the end of the path made mat they were still not permitted to rise until she officially left the room.
“Where is Sinclair, and why were preparations not met for my arrival. ”
“Vhadgeid, I assure you no notice was sent out and Sinclair has left on investigational matters directed under Silexies” Front desk secretary Yamel Tao’Zoag spoke. Of course she knew this already.He spoke the truth. There was no notice sent out but Cigány simply lied and at that moment someone would be deemed liable for the miscommunication.
“I do not accept that answer. Find who is responsible, Yamel” Cigány barked with conviction. Someone would have to take the fall, even if there was no one virtually at fault. Perhaps it would be one of the several hundred and easily disposable servitors drowned in meaningless paperwork. Only time would tell.
Though Silexies’ apprentice made a huge scene it would be foolish to think she did not have personal agenda to follow. She would find out how much this prison knew in regards to Eal’s escape and she would find a cover. The high and mighty act was not all a façade, however. She did generally find pleasure in the way she conducted herself. The workers were in for a rough time.
“Where is Mado-Keno?”
---
“Suddenly I have what I desire.” This voice resonated in Kirri’s mind but it was unclear who it was or what the message meant. Utilizing the fire stone, many of the Killimaran’s questions were answered, but it came with its price. Unaware, he opened his soul to Kaan but the timing was what saved him in the end from falling to the same fate as the swordsman before him.
He could sense him but…he couldn’t quite locate him. Reason so? Kaan had regained his strength to a point where could be felt wherever hatred was on Killimara. His essence was virtually everywhere but a stronger presence noticeably closed in on the alien warrior. Kirri’s mind was overwritten with all the knowledge he wanted to know, including how and why the situation reached such a point. It did not come easy on the heart, however. He could feel the very pulse of every Killimaran individually and he could sense that half now ticked at a different tune. Inside roughly a third existed a dark aura not natural to his species. Many of his species became meek puppets parading in plain sight ready to be flipped like a switch. Before Kirri could properly weigh his options his attention would be averted to the swordsman who had only just recently joined the fight unexpectedly beside him.
The trio of Hellseeds and their army were not defeated by any means but a change in their aggressive behavior was apparent. For a moment the raging army of Hellseeds paused. They watched almost as if they were anticipating something and they were.
And then, it happened…
Lysander, the rowdy intruder arrived on Killimara for an insane task, to consume a Hellseed. He’d accomplish that today. His sword stood tall, simultaneously holding the enlarged flaming heart down while he began to absorb its power. His muscles became increasingly tense as he attempted to harness the influx of power. On the surface, it appeared the mission was a success!
“I DID IT! HAHAHA. I ATE A HELLSEED. I AM THE BEST.” he continually boasted, completely unaware of what misfortune he willfully subjugated himself to. Maybe he’d realize when he couldn’t move his limbs but he was so high off the raw spectacle of his dream being fulfilled that he laughed hysterically. His world became dark. The scenery around him faded into a deep blackness.
“Fall…”
Instantaneously, the swordsman was brought to his knees. His high pitched laugh suddenly cracked, resembling an air horn before his body adopted a crippling state. One in which he could not longer properly speak. His words no longer had form, just obfuscated noises lashing out. His eyes no longer had splits in their lids and could not open.
“Awth si paephning to me? Ihts hsoludn’t… be hpnapneig…”
“This is what you wanted. A fiendish voice echoed.”
A tall figure sauntered from what could be gauged as a dozen meters away. He could only sense the malicious intent. He didn’t even have the privilege of seeing his abuser.
“You foolishly expose your soul and wage tug of war with a Demilich? Simply unwise. I am thankful for what you have given me, however. I have received collectively more than the majority of beings who inhabit this planet but you are at most a fool who is unworthy of damnation.”
“Utb I ma hte best!!!”
“Silence…”
After hearing such he could barely sustain consciousness. At this point the swordsman was leaning on his own sword for support. Menacingly standing over his body, Kaan placed his grotesque hand on Lysander’s head to relay a message. Aside from absorbing his and the swords energy he had one final task for him.
Kirri could only watch the man be slain by an invisible apparition. The strongest sense of Kaans energy was right before him and thus he’d be drawn to it. When an entirely different voice vibrated out of the throat of the swordsman it was clear who addressed him.
“Kirri… What will you decide? Will you continue to resist my influence? I have regained much of my power in such a short time. You cannot realistically hope to oppose me at the cost of your clan. The iscariotic feelings you sense in them are indeed permanent but you can extinguish the threat albeit you give a sacrifice of those already tainted. Malicious I am, but greed is something that escapes me. A small patronage is all I desire for the salvation of your species. Take this gift and do as I asked. What you do afterwards with it is entirely up to you.”
Before Kirri could answer, Lysander began to move again, coughing up liters of blood. His eyes, rolled well beyond backwards and it was apparent something was lodged in his throat. His hands forcefully entered his mouth and removed a folded page of archaic glyphs and inscriptions. It was bloodstained but power instilled within it was also codependent on the wielders will of mind. It could be the catalyst for scaling manipulation depending on the user. It left the hands of the man and made its way to Kirri, unfolding in the process.
The sword wielder finally fainted, planking on the desert floor. He wasn’t dead but he has served his purpose. Here in Kirri’s hand was an entire page of Aldaraia. The entire fate of Killimara. What will he do?
---
Outside of the chapel’s walls, two silhouettes conversed in a curtain of dusk. They were unseen, unsettled and unsure which course of action to move forward with. Opposing ideals and personalities’ were on full display, but the reality of how difficult the task they were assigned dejected their spirits. Neither soul had conviction in their opposites’ aptitude. Cooperation was key but bound to fail. Polluting the air were spiteful ambitions and intentions. Should they combine their efforts it was possible but should was an often a mere word of futility. It is a word often associated with what ended up not happening. It belonged in a parallel universe. It belonged ironically within another dimension of space, as did Eal Sermonde. At least this was how Ichor viewed the obstacle proposed.
He desired the coordinates and to banish Sermonde back to his Cell. The prospect of that idea was shot down by the feeling that a real bout would erupt between them here and now. One he could not win without disposing of his faux Cizran form. A fallout of that magnitude would no doubt bring unwanted attention to his superior. As much as he longed for Silexies’ demise an action like that exposed him also and to risk that for this individual would be uncharacteristically undisciplined of him. He thought hard to calculate a solution. The only option was the use his political clout for an unauthorized departure to the desired location.
So many options…
Perhaps a Wraith.
The most unused ooc page of alltime.
So proudly he’d say his name. Odis Lyndon Gallagher. His name was clearly not one that rolled off the tongue. Lauded for his very much exaggerated war story (which detailed him singlehandedly fending off a vicious horde of a cataclysm), Odis rode this false story as far as the tides could take him. Unfortunately, this “hero” of the people was primarily geared towards fake sincerity and ersatz glory. He gained a representative position and aimed even further like the opportunist he was.
Entering the very establishment Apollo resided in, his walk carried a frivolous bop causing his striped polyester tie to swing vigorously outside his navy tailored suit. There wasn’t much to see, though some guards held thoughts questioning his acumen. Riding the main elevator several floors up, he rested his briefcase on the flush carpet. Before the doors opened there would be several times where he’d brush his shoulders off and pop his collar in sequence.
Bizarre.
Even the two guards accompanying him shook their heads in disgust.
His smug expression remained with him as several men left the room once Apollo dismissed them. For a brief second he saw Apollo within the crack of closing door but something told the Odis to pause on his planned entry. It was the first time he showed any falter in confidence. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it, but to the bathroom he went thinking he could wiz away any form of internal trepidation. Perhaps he was just nervous, it was the first time he was meeting Apollo face to face after all.
“Excuse me boys, I’m going to take a quick pit stop.”
The guards gave a quick nod and waited in the hall as he entered. Surprisingly, the bathroom was rather large and held an interior that was surely designed through the combined effort of renowned architects and interior decorators.
“Impressive” Odis thought and after relieving himself he took a trip to the sink. He placed his prescriptive frames down on the counter and began talking to himself in the reflection of the gigantic mirror. “Relax Odis Lyndon Gallagher relax… You got this…”
After turning on the faucet he noticed there was a hesitation is water flow. He thought nothing of it but in actuality he should have questioned it. Before he could react his hands were suddenly covered in a metallic slime…
“…What… in the…”
Before he could finish the platinum ooze magnetized to his face, gorging violently down any pathway the sentient liquid could find. This included his mouth, nose and even his eyes. The horror, Odis could not even make out the tiniest squeal for help as it constricted his vocal cords, but he the conglomeration of property changing microorganisms did not seek to kill him. Well, that was both true and false.
At this very moment his brain was being partially consumed, meticulously rewired, filled and replaced by the downloaded conscious of another.
The last visions and thoughts of Odis Lyndon Gallagher would be that of the spinning mural plastered upon the arching ceiling which was only ironic to him because no other person in their right mind would compare him to Julius Caesar.
His body was lifeless for a minute or so and the two guards past their patience barged into the bathroom guns drawn with suspicion something was going on. The second the handle rattled Odis’ eyes pinballed from the back of his head and into a regular position. By then the remnants of Panident escaped down the drain and water was regularly flowing once more. What the two ops became witness to was a complete shift in the man’s demeanor.
After slowly getting up, he presumed slight shrugging position despite being at gunpoint. “I just slipped that’s all. I’ll be out in a moment.” They abided to his requests and waited once more outside. The second the door closed a crooked smile filled his face from ear to ear.
“Oh boy did that hurt.”
What is this body number eleven? He lost count. Ten whole times he had been killed and because of the abilities of Panident his entire conscious could be downloaded and formatted to any live person’s brain to be uploaded again and again.
The last thing he remembered was hearing “THEN I SHALL BURN IT ALL!” and just like that a building collapsed on him just as he was entering. It wasn’t just any other building also. It was Merse’s office. As troubling as that might have been to think about he had received enough of a briefing from Panident to pursue the plan with confidence, even if several things had already gone wrong.
With his hair no longer tame and slick he didn’t even bother to fix it as it fit his personality more. He looked in the mirror, stretching his neck in attempts to get used to the body he was in. Instead of putting on his glasses he left them there because he didn’t need them opposed to the previous owner of this body. Instead, he opted to take the suitcase and he walked towards the exit. Whoever this Odis fellow was Apollo had a meeting with, he was gone.
There was a saying that fit the individual occupying Odis’ body perfectly. In fact his nickname derived from it.
“You can kill all the roaches but they’ll always just show up again.”
Hello Apollo Amon, meet Prime's second in command Ferris Caldwell.
Entering the very establishment Apollo resided in, his walk carried a frivolous bop causing his striped polyester tie to swing vigorously outside his navy tailored suit. There wasn’t much to see, though some guards held thoughts questioning his acumen. Riding the main elevator several floors up, he rested his briefcase on the flush carpet. Before the doors opened there would be several times where he’d brush his shoulders off and pop his collar in sequence.
Bizarre.
Even the two guards accompanying him shook their heads in disgust.
His smug expression remained with him as several men left the room once Apollo dismissed them. For a brief second he saw Apollo within the crack of closing door but something told the Odis to pause on his planned entry. It was the first time he showed any falter in confidence. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it, but to the bathroom he went thinking he could wiz away any form of internal trepidation. Perhaps he was just nervous, it was the first time he was meeting Apollo face to face after all.
“Excuse me boys, I’m going to take a quick pit stop.”
The guards gave a quick nod and waited in the hall as he entered. Surprisingly, the bathroom was rather large and held an interior that was surely designed through the combined effort of renowned architects and interior decorators.
“Impressive” Odis thought and after relieving himself he took a trip to the sink. He placed his prescriptive frames down on the counter and began talking to himself in the reflection of the gigantic mirror. “Relax Odis Lyndon Gallagher relax… You got this…”
After turning on the faucet he noticed there was a hesitation is water flow. He thought nothing of it but in actuality he should have questioned it. Before he could react his hands were suddenly covered in a metallic slime…
“…What… in the…”
Before he could finish the platinum ooze magnetized to his face, gorging violently down any pathway the sentient liquid could find. This included his mouth, nose and even his eyes. The horror, Odis could not even make out the tiniest squeal for help as it constricted his vocal cords, but he the conglomeration of property changing microorganisms did not seek to kill him. Well, that was both true and false.
At this very moment his brain was being partially consumed, meticulously rewired, filled and replaced by the downloaded conscious of another.
The last visions and thoughts of Odis Lyndon Gallagher would be that of the spinning mural plastered upon the arching ceiling which was only ironic to him because no other person in their right mind would compare him to Julius Caesar.
His body was lifeless for a minute or so and the two guards past their patience barged into the bathroom guns drawn with suspicion something was going on. The second the handle rattled Odis’ eyes pinballed from the back of his head and into a regular position. By then the remnants of Panident escaped down the drain and water was regularly flowing once more. What the two ops became witness to was a complete shift in the man’s demeanor.
After slowly getting up, he presumed slight shrugging position despite being at gunpoint. “I just slipped that’s all. I’ll be out in a moment.” They abided to his requests and waited once more outside. The second the door closed a crooked smile filled his face from ear to ear.
“Oh boy did that hurt.”
What is this body number eleven? He lost count. Ten whole times he had been killed and because of the abilities of Panident his entire conscious could be downloaded and formatted to any live person’s brain to be uploaded again and again.
The last thing he remembered was hearing “THEN I SHALL BURN IT ALL!” and just like that a building collapsed on him just as he was entering. It wasn’t just any other building also. It was Merse’s office. As troubling as that might have been to think about he had received enough of a briefing from Panident to pursue the plan with confidence, even if several things had already gone wrong.
With his hair no longer tame and slick he didn’t even bother to fix it as it fit his personality more. He looked in the mirror, stretching his neck in attempts to get used to the body he was in. Instead of putting on his glasses he left them there because he didn’t need them opposed to the previous owner of this body. Instead, he opted to take the suitcase and he walked towards the exit. Whoever this Odis fellow was Apollo had a meeting with, he was gone.
There was a saying that fit the individual occupying Odis’ body perfectly. In fact his nickname derived from it.
“You can kill all the roaches but they’ll always just show up again.”
Hello Apollo Amon, meet Prime's second in command Ferris Caldwell.
Yikes Dice. I've always felt that is a little too luck based. It's either the ability can be used or not. I feel like if an ability is used unfairly to essentially metagame (Which I don't believe she intends to use it for) it should just simply be weighed against the person in the judgment process. No harm done.
You know what they say about people who post RBWY memes... *Wink*
Name: Merse Granstrum
Age: 34
Height: 6’1
Weight: 194 lbs
Occupation: The worlds greatest Information Broker
Affiliation: PRIME
Aliases: Liaison, The Black Cat
Theme: youtu.be/9JPn2P28D0o?t=21
Personality: This sly tongued businessman like most at the top of their craft was well versed in the art of deception. His job was to give facts and that you could trust, but if there was no transaction attached you really shouldn't’ trust the slightest gesture from this being. Not much is known about his past and his empire seemly rose from nowhere. Not many even knew what he looked like and when they did see not much could be said other than that he was literally a cat. Sleekly dressed in business attire, he never seemed to lose his cool or look disgruntled when faced with the dangers of his every day tasks. To resume with this type of work it wasn't a surprise he was far from a pushover.
Abilities
Omnilingualism: Merse can speak, write, understand and communicate in any language including computer codes, languages he’s never heard before, sign language (even lip-reading), illegible words, and even backwards speech and writing with little to no effort. He could even communicate with animals or read body language and the most convenient aspect of it was that he could become an expert of the chosen tongue in a blink of an eye. This ability not only helped him gather information but combined with his photographic memory it allows him to read physical movements and almost react instantaneously to anything.
Bullet Time: May be confused with superspeed, bullet time is the ability to slow down time perceptually, in order to fight at such extraordinary speeds that the he can't be hit or shot. When increased by Merse’s Nether output it can reach levels that defy logic.
Enhanced Senses: Merse has incredibly strong senses compared to the average being. Also what makes this so convient is that he is able to control each one individually to the point where he could completely shut one out. His hearing in particular is just off the level of echolocation at times.
Nether Manipulation: Merse at will can create, shape and manipulate Nether, the "Chthonian Element" that flows through the realms of the living, and the Dead. Nether is most known as the substance that makes up the Underworld, a subterranean dimension where all souls go when they pass on. Nether is very similar to Aether “the Celestial Element” in that is from a Plane that exists between the planes of both matter, and energy. However, although it can partake in the nature of either substance, Nether is neither of these things.
Despite often been seen as "Death-Force" Nether is more than the source of what drains life away from living things, it is the destructive aspect of reality, the source and very concept of entropy and destruction, disasters and all degeneration in matter, energy and concepts. It is the power that makes possible and ensures severing the soul's connection to their mortal body, so they can pass onto the after life. It is also the power that summons and controls the souls of the deceased. Users of this power acknowledge that Nether exists in Elemental, Cosmic, and Spiritual forces. Nether exists in the cosmos as sort of a gateway between the land of the Living and the Dead, stretching out to anywhere where death has the potential to occur.
Like Aether, Nether is a Spiritual Element, which means it cannot be perceived by any physical sense. The only way Nether can be seen is if it were mixed with an Element of the Physical Realm (Though he could manipulate other elements most often this ability would be used aside Darkness, Fire, or Earth, the elements Merse had a tight grip over.)He did know a decent amount of spells also but he did not rely on them as most were a hassle to cast. The easiest to cast for him had to be one with out an incantation that allowed him to enlarge or lengthen limbs which he’d normally use on his tail.
Psychometry: The power to perceive the residual information of an object by using senses. Merse obtains historical memories or sensations concerning beings objects they can observe by their senses. With objects he gains the knowledge including the makers, users, and even those who have on passing used the object, and what has been done with it. This ability is not also suited for battle but it is used almost daily by Merse.
Neuro-Residual Recollection: Where as he couldnt learn about a conscious being by touch he could for those recently deceased. He was adept at envisioning the cause of death of individuals by touching and/or sometimes retracing the path they took mentally. He couldn’t do this in an instant but nevertheless it made his job that much easer as it eliminated the need of taking live witnesses.
A cat always lands on his toes: Merse for some odd reason had the ability to swing and twist his frame unrealistically while in mid air. Where as the laws of the universe say this is impossible, Merse is able to alter his position and direction at will.
Ergonihilism:[This ability is currently disabled due to the Sui-generis Link Merse having currently broken] Merse is able to tap into a distant sufficiency of unique power similar to the green lantern called the Sui Generis. Instead of regular energy however he is given through a watch on his left wrist a source of corrosive energy. When amplified with his nether output he can deteriorate energy within including sentient beings, inorganic matter, nature, planets, etc. Since most powers require a certain amount of energy to work Merse is put to a major advantage when molding this element to his desire. Most known energy forms are vulnerable to this ability, whether Spiritual, Physical, Magical, Divine, Demonic, etc. This was one of the main staples of his strength. He can also use this element to warp and alter vectors. Some of the strongest shields have crumbled through his ability and some of the strongest forces derailed.
Accessories
Dark Paper and Metal Talismans - These worked opposite of the usual as seeing how it wasn't attached to a shrine. These were simple extensions of his abilities he already had, giving him the ability to place traps or store enchanted items in inconvenient places for his foe.
Sui Generis Link – In the form of an highly durable watch this link to the power source wasn’t his only access to it but the only one his carried with him.
M6D (2x) - The M6D Pistol is a semi-automatic, recoil-operated, magazine-fed, large-bore handgun that is controllable even during rapid fire, although at the cost of accuracy. By holding the trigger down the weapon will fire repeatedly without additional pulls of the trigger and depending on pressure could even create an effect similar to a shot gun. It is striker-fired, due to there being no visible external hammer. What It fires depends as he kept a large bundle of different rounds. Its default load is M225 SAP-HE (Semi-Armor Piercing, High Explosive) rounds from a 12-round magazine, usually strengthened by nether or another force of his choosing. Due to Merse’s increased eye sight and aiming ability it seems its never out of range.
Type of rounds in arsenal – Energy propelled, Photon powered, Tracker rounds, Erosion pressure.
Characters, NPCs, Locations, Etc.
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