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Not The Author · 04-24-2010, 02:50 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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-thwock-

Jacob Helix was presently in a foul mood.

-thwock-

Despite his efforts to keep the Tender from doing any more harm, it'd still managed to get away from him, and in a totally unexpected manner.

-thwock-

Now the adrenaline that had sustained him during their recent scuffle had run dry, and despite his heavy armor, he was certain at least one of his ribs had sustained a minor fracture.

-thwock-

He was in a hot, humid jungle, and the thing he was trying to free could probably kill him with a blade of grass, let alone an entire arboreal battalion. Not even taking into account that he was practically standing atop the sort of wooden mound that might jump up and stab him.

-thwock-

This particular knotted mat of roots was proving rather resilient as well, and for a moment Jacob lamented not getting the suggested chain modification (Or plasma! Now in I[sub:3emd7ne7]N[/sub:3emd7ne7]D[sub:3emd7ne7]I[/sub:3emd7ne7]G[sub:3emd7ne7]O[/sub:3emd7ne7]!) when he'd had the chance. But now wasn't the time to despair. Now was the time for action!

-thwock-

...Action that was getting him precisely nowhere.

Due to the near-horizontal nature of the surface he was attempting to breach, and the distinctly non-serrated nature of his sword, Jacob was, essentially, attempting to cut down a redwood using only a spear. Granted, it was more possible than with a herring, but it still wasn't a plan that would get results anytime soon.

It occurred to him then that he might have better luck trying to wedge the roots apart, despite their uncannily tight weave. His blade made yet another descending arc to the wooded ground.

"Need some help?"

And immediately came back up.

Fortunately, John Swift had been standing very slightly out of Jacob's range, though quite probably through no planning of his own. Both parties seemed rather unnerved, though the cryomancer was rather fidgety even without a chunk of war-forged metal pointed in the general direction of his windpipe.

"Don't. Sneak up. On me."

Gradually, Jacob let the blade swing back to his side. John seemed to calm down a little, popping something into his mouth as he sat in the grass opposite the knight. He knocked upon the shell concealing Sen. "So what is this thingy, anyway? You seem to be trying to cut through it and I thought maybe I could help you and you were kinda nice from before except not really but kinda so I thought <font size="4">maybe you could help me if I helped you and you must be kinda hungry and a bit thirsty and I made some flavor balls but they keep melting which is kinda annoying and do you want one?"</font>

Jacob knelt, taking a moment to wade through this deluge of words, abnormally rushed even for this... excitable young lad. "...Yeah, sure. I am a bit parched, now than you mention it." The icy sphere sailed lazily through the air, easily caught though marginally unstable. Jacob took a bite. "Mango?"

John shrugged, glancing over his shoulder towards the escarpment from whence he came. He seemed to be doing that a lot. "I guess so. They looked edible, at least... But poison doesn't taste good, so we're fine, right?"

Jacob lowered his head, fist closed around the rapidly melting sno-sans-cone impacting his brow. "Ugh. Forget I asked." It was rather tasty, though, and were it poisoned, he was likely already done for. The rest of the flavor ball went into his gullet; the energy therein soon to go to his sword. "Now then, if you could just help me break open these roots..."

The cryomancer scratched the back of his neck, eyes downcast. "Well, I dunno how much help I'll be with all this heat. Hard to make ice, y'know?" Jacob sighed, and had intended to make a less-than-encouraging remark on John's magical aptitude when the Humanoid unexpectedly actually made a good point. "Besides, can't you just, uh... do that thing? With the holes?"

Were he not already flush from the jungle climate, Jacob's face would most certainly have reddened at his failure to recognize this simple, obvious, and likely unexpected avenue of attack on the Tender beneath them. He was about to not explain why it wasn't that simple again, when he noticed movement on the ridge. "God, what the hell took them so long!"

John leapt to his feet and turned towards the cliff face, assuming the knight had meant the other contestants had arrived.

He hadn't.

Several well-built women were sliding down the ridge, shouting excitedly. The leading pair were adorned with a great deal of birdfeathers. All of the amazons had at least one spear. Three of them, staying atop the ridge, were armed with bows and a dismaying quantity of arrows. There seemed to be a little over a dozen of them. John backed away, running into Jacob's outstretched arm. "That's more than there were before..."

Another time, Jacob might've asked what he meant. But at the moment, an idea was hatching in his mind. He turned to the cryomancer, grinning.

"I just had a terrible idea."

He faced the oncoming warriors, who'd slowed, muttering amongst themselves and seeming not to want to get closer to the pair. "They're here to hunt demons, right?" He plucked his sword from the ground, face instantly hardening. He swung the blade up sharply to point at the natives. More than one flinched. "Then let's give them a demon to hunt!"

John spun his staff down from his back uncertainly. "Oh, by the way." The cryomancer looked up expectantly at his companion, who still stared out at the wave of savages. "When I tell you to run..."

Jacob had intended to look down, slowly, on the Humanoid at his side. He'd meant to use his most grave voice, to intone run dramatically. He was going to open a tunnel, drop Sen from the sky into the middle of the group of natives.

That didn't happen.

The earth trembled as the chronomancer turned his head, and the ground behind them erupted in a shower of grass and sod. A massive serpentine column of writhing roots burst forth, and in their midst rode a decidedly more brown Sen, perched atop the great heaving mass.

Jacob, to say the least, was not terribly pleased by this development. He expressed this displeasure in the most elegant, refined manner he was able to muster.

"Oh, fuck me!"

GBCE · 04-24-2010, 01:45 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Korbz.

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**Schazer** · 05-06-2010, 10:54 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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The Tender, resplendent in its hardwood armour, chirped at Jacob with that loathsome snigger as it loomed over him. The shell, solid and whorled with its rapidly-woven fibres, lent Sen a jagged, insectoid outline, hunched atop his tower.

John, apparently still waiting for Jacob's signal despite the unexpected turn of events, was about to ask what happened next, when a sharp cry was heard and a volley of arrows arced overhead from cliff to pillar, striking the Tender with a thwock but failing to pierce its armour. The interruption diverted Sen's attention from the contestants below as he turned (almost mechanically due to the fresh bark hide) and snarled at the Amazons. Jacob, still on edge, felt a rumble beneath his feet, and saw the treeline above the women quake ominously.

"Follow me. Keep up." Jacob struck a fine balance between running for the nearest cover (which would've been behind Sen's pillar) and avoiding affiliation with the soldiers' present foe, but slipped into the bushes without hearing a reaction. The trembling was getting worse throughout the clearing, though distinctly omnidirectional towards the Amazons. They didn't seem too worried; perhaps they mistook it for the usual volcanic activity. Turning back; to see if John was following, to see Sen's offensive being launched, to check for pursuers; Jacob noted with some consternation the roots crawling slowly over the Tender's spread-eagled form as it draped itself over the mutant tree, wood with binding with wood, melding and growing to the monster's will.

Sen was setting himself up for a siege - and what better place to hold it from than the arsenal? Jacob swore to himself, and quickened his pace a little, broadsword switching from machete to walking stick as his path, circuitous of the clearing as it was, took the duo uphill. The journey was slogging and uneventful; interrupted only by the odd gurling scream, and perhaps another barked command?

The chronomancer halted before breaking the treeline, resting on a boulder that had tumbled down the mountainside. A couple more metres up, and he'd be able to spot that damn Tender (or, at least, its impact on the surrounding rainforest). Fit as he was, Jacob relished the chance to catch his breath before a puffing ice mage staggered from behind a tree. "Why... did we have... to climb *wheeze* this high?" The knight made no reply, instead choosing to finish his exotic fruit plucked en route and fastidiously wipe his fingers on the moss beneath him before raising his darkening sword.

A portal opened up in front of Jacob and John, providing a somewhat-disorienting birds-eye view of the carnage Sen had caused. A decent ring of forest around the Tender's central perch, at least two trees thick, seemed to have fallen under the beast's ministrations and was serving to cause a lot of grief for a rapidly demoralised squad. Despite Sen's raucous insistence that they leave him alone, the women persisted in pelting him with spear and arrow. Despite the proliferation of spine and thorn in the wood, or perhaps because of it, the canopy was suffering, affording the mages a decent view of the chaos. Jacob noticed something off about Sen's behaviour, which seemed at odds with his previous, eerie understanding of proceedings around his World Tree.

"So he can't 'see' through normal trees... Interesting. But, irrelevant; seeing as barring accidents, he'll be dead before the end of the round." The portal winked shut, leaving a grim Jacob and a nonplussed John.

"But... how are we supposed to kill him? I mean, it's all the way down there now and it's not like we can drop rocks on it or something, there's too many trees in the way for one-"

Jacob cut the talkative mage off with a gauntleted wave. "That would be because rocks are useless against plants. Surely, you could recommend something more effective?"

"Well, I guess fire or something, but we don't have anyb-"

"Exactly." Jacob was already climbing the volcano, leaving the cryomancer to scramble up after him.

GBCE · 05-30-2010, 03:33 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

Vexmagog's eyebrows furrowed. He had always been a quick thinker. It seemed to him that that particular property had been conspicuously absent in the prior moments, only to come rushing back in a torrent of self-chastisements and frantic rebuilding, strand by strand, of his web. Lies, yes, but also lifesavers. He had, in the course of about an hour, gotten a feast in his honor from a group of people who wanted his blood. He had saved his fellow "contestants" from the same fate, and had high hopes that they would participate in the revelry alongside him. And this human woman, Mohea: he knew he was but a few words away from... well, regardless, that may have come tumbling down.

Tumbling down like the cavalcade of rubble -- stone, bas reliefs, statuary adorned with precious gems -- that Steven's gloves had caused when they literally punched a hole through the mountainside.

I have just turned what could have been a simple mistake into a failure on the part of this god I have created. I told them the shadows picked these beings, I know his gloves can create things. I should have told them the shadows picked this man for his power over the gloves, that the gloves have a mind of their own, and that they did this on...what was this, an accident? These are true, known things. I should have told them that, gotten an apology out of Steven, and left him to clean up the mess he made. The women wouldn't hurt him, they have given their word. He can create things. Things like walls and statues. It would have been easy, and it would have gotten me some time I could have spent with Mohea. Now...

...Well, now it's not an accident on the part of someone with supernatural artifacts he hasn't got any control over, it's the failure of the persona I've created to protect these people from the beings that it is that persona's purpose to protect them from. Shock. I must have been shocked, and let my guard down. It's happened before. Shock that these gloves of his can punch through a stone wall embedded in a mountainside, and would apparently elect to do so instead of going through the immediately adjacent open entrance.

Vexmagog's eye twitched as he felt a sizzle on the tender inside of his elbow. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

That I have made a mistake is a given. Now I must recover from it. To recover best, I need to calm down. I can calm down by taking a walk, which also serves to disperse the effects of Magog... if they are even active inside this temple. He cannot alter things on the home planes of my pantheon, and if another god is active here, it's possible he is unable to exact any changes here either. I also need to talk to Steven. He can walk with me.

The satyr opened his eyes after only a brief moment. He rotated his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. Mohea was looking at him with a concerned expression, and many of the other women were drawing towards him, no doubt with questions. He put on a mask of experience. His expression seemed to say that he'd seen this all before and it was little concern. He placed his alien hand tenderly on Mohea's shoulder and nodded to her. "Wait here. I'll take care of this."

He fixed his gaze on Steven, who looked shaken. He waved grandiosely towards the entrance, so that the natives would understand the intention of his english words as he spoke them.

"Steven, you deserve an explanation. Walk with us." He began to take a step forward, stopped, and backtracked. "Me. Walk with me." He turned toward the approaching crowd, who began to clamor in their native language for answers. He held out his arms an addressed them.

"The shadows sensed this man, and knew I have yet to place him under my blessing. I intend to use him as bait to draw them out. Please, do not concern yourselves. Though they may be powerful enough to destroy this stone wall, they cannot break my spear, they cannot break me, and I will see them die in their attempts!" He held his arm aloft and crafted the image of the spear in it once again as he wove through the crowd, which began to whoop in a native battle cry.

He addressed Mohea at his side, so that she alone could hear. "Keep them here. The battle may be dangerous. I am counting on you."

Vexmagog caught sight of the unsure Blitz at the back of the entrance chamber. Deciding that the benefit gained from having him accompany would be offset by the alterations to the story he would have to prepare to make it necessary, he merely nodded to the man and turned to leave.

The two otherworldy men descended the grand stone steps at the front of the temple. Several of the women craned their necks from inside the structure, hoping to catch a glimpse of the battle they were sure was about to commence. To ensure that they would not, Vexmagog had planned to wander deeper into the jungle, but was hampered by the growing crowd at the entrance surounding a fire pit. A boar was roasting over an open flame, and delicious-smelling smoke was rising from it. Vexmagog caught sight of Wolf in that circle, gnawing on a piece of cooked meat.

Looking around, Vexmagog elected instead to hike up the slope of the mountain on the side of the temple opposite the women. When they were out of earshot, Vexmagog launched into his explanation of the events as they were currently unfolding.

"Let me begin by apologizing for not filling you in earlier."

"What? No, it's fine. Uh, thanks for saving me. So, what are you doing?"

"Hopefully, I am changing the nature of this game we're in, starting with befriending these natives. There are a few lies I have told to that end, but I am insuring that they are mine alone to maintain." He took another deep breath and extracted a lump of charcoal from his flesh as he walked. "They were told that seven devils would come to their island and end the world. It was our captor's intention to set these people against us. I have, instead, told them that the seven devils are a separate group of creatures, which I have given them glimpses of in illusion. I said that I am a god tasked with protecting them from these devils, whose name and image they are unaware of because the devils trapped me and made them forget."

"Why didn't you just tell them the truth?"

"I assumed that they would take word from their shaman over word from someone as obviously alien as I. We were told in the beginning the nature of the lies this S told them. They did not know that we were informed of this. Rather than contradict them, I gave them a story that built on that. This way, it was corroborated by another source that I, as far as they know, should not have known about."

Steven nodded, following along. Vexmagog stopped his ascent and pried another inert piece of charcoal loose as Steven caught up. "Okay, so what do I do in all this?"

Vexmagog smiled. "Nothing, really. None of you can talk to them yet, and I'm sure to have had time to fill everyone in by them time any of you learn their language. My story leaves you all, in their eyes, in a very similar position to the one you are truly in right now. Taken from your home worlds unexpectedly, no knowledge of these people or their culture, no knowledge of this persona I've created or his role as a god of these people. I've set it up so that the only one with a lie to maintain is me. And I've got a lot of experience with this."

"Back up. Learn their language? That would take months, maybe years."

Vexmagog nodded and looked Steven in the eye. "Exactly. And we can stay here that long as long as none of us die. Do you understand? We can spend as much time as we need, figuring out how to stop the contest and go home. And if we can't find a way, this can be our permanent home."

He waited a moment for Steven to absorb this before he continued. "There are, however, several problems. Problem one: the being responsible for running this battle. He may see fit to interfere if we all cease to participate. I understand he is very powerful, but if we force intervention on his part, at least we're that much closer to subverting this twisted game we're all taking part in. Problem two: the shadow devils. My explanation is that they brought you all here so that there would be bodies unblessed by me that they could control. My arm created another entity on the beach, which I said was the seventh creature they summoned, coresponding with the seventh devil. I have 'killed' one of the devils already, and have to take a very active role in this farce until I 'kill' the rest. I would not presume us out of scrutiny until that happens.

"Problem three, Sen." Vexmagog sighed and clenched and unclenched his right hand. The indigo glow still lingered a bit below his elbow, releasing its hold on no loose stones. "Though the prophecy S fed these people may have been false, Sen has the power to make it a reality." Vexmagog pictured in his mind the image of the creature, which lingered overlong on the brown pods embedded below its skin. He shook his head absentmindedly. "I have told them the creature is to be captured because the shadows can only bring in seven otherworldly creatures at once, and that killing Sen would allow them to bring in something else potentially more deadly. Obviously, we do not want Sen to plant his seed, as that would likely destroy the island or even the world. We don't want to kill Sen yet, because that would cause us all to leave the 'arena'. I think the best course of action is to capture him. And that's where you come in."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Hear me out. Your gloves can create things, right?"

"I...well, yes."

"Could they create a cage or enclosure big enough to hold Sen away from the ground?"

"They could, I suppose," he replied, considering the energy that would be yielded by the feast below, "but it would take me a while. I usually only make small things."

"What about a steel trap, or..." Vexmagog sought Steven's mind for a word that would describe the material used to hold up the bridges between the bouyant islands of his homeworld. He used the most similar substitute. "...Cable? Is that flexible?"

"Not really. If you want strong and flexible, you'd probably want chain instead. And yes, I could make those things. Again, it would take me some time."

"Great. We should walk back down now, and then you should have your gloves make me those things."

"I thought you told everyone that my gloves were demons? Won't they see them down there?"

Vexmagog smiled and patted the man on the back (using his left hand, of course). "They won't care in a few minutes."

__________________________________________________ _____________________

Nalu sulked near the entryway, Mohea alternately keeping a close eye on her and engaging in some sort of pantomime with the scarred, otherworldly man. Nalu's attempts to rally the other women outside had been stymied by the shamaness's daughter. Not wanting to accuse the tribe's new savior until she could prove his falsehood to all of them conclusively, the young woman was forced to wait for the supposed god to return from his "hunt", no doubt victorious. Tired of the waiting game in which she found herself presently engaged, she meandered deeper into the temple towards the seeing chamber, where she encountered the shamaness deep in prayer amongst thrumming sounds from the throats of delirious men.

After a pause, Amali looked up, and Nalu addressed her. "Strange day." The older woman met her eye but merely stared dispassionately. With a sigh, Nalu bowed low, stood again, and repeated herself. "Strange day."

"It is all in the interpretation. We find ourselves in the presence of the divine," she replied, with a hint of uncertainty. "Many things are above our comprehension."

"This," Nalu retorted, waving her arm across the room to indicate the men, "is above mine." The elder opened her mouth as if to reply, but furrowed her brow and allowed the insistent mumbling to fill the gap between them. "Are they talking about him? What do they say?" the younger woman asked.

The reply was the same: silence. The shamaness lowered her gaze and stared distractedly into the face of the man nearest her. Nalu leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms.

"I don't know," Amali finally answered. "I don't know anymore." Nalu smiled inwardly, and moved further into the room. She sat on the floor across from the shamaness and put her hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met again. "I thought I knew. I thought this was all there was, until this morning. Now, I feel that all I've heard them say in the past...it was all nothing. If they can speak plainly, then this..." Amali waved her hand dismissively into the air above her, as if gesturing to the words the men spoke, "...This is nothing, and it never was anything more."

The shamaness looked down again, bearing a pained expression. When she finally spoke again, her voice cracked as though she were about to cry. "Now... Now I listen, and I listen, and I pray, and I only hear them say one thing. False. False false false false. As though everything I thought I knew is..." She trailed off before finishing.

"Perhaps you hear them correctly," Nalu replied, "but you misunderstand." Nalu smiled as Amali looked up at her questioningly. "As you said, it is all in the interpretation."[/color]

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GBCE · 06-01-2010, 09:43 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

The loud cheerings of the females droned in Wolf's ears. They felt euphoria over the thrill of watching their "God", and now even Steven was geting roped into this mess.

Teaching the taillesses the speech of this pack... True, in the longrun that would be helpful. Even Wolf could understand unity between species. However...

He gazed up at the looming peak of the rock that smelled of the Bright-Beast-That-Bites-Hot. Something was very wrong about it. The black smog was beginning to seep into the Up. A feeling in the back of his mind was barking "Danger! Run!" And yet, a feeling in his heart was soothing him at the same time. He was conflicted. But it was pointless to run, this place was surrounded by the Wet. He wouldn't escape no matter how hard he tried.

But a wolf never lets himself be cornered. He strained his mind to find a way to escape from this tropical nightmare. No matter how he tried though, it always came back to the same answer.

Something needed to die. Of course, the thought of killing had never scared Wolf before. To survive it is necessary to take life away from others. It was the natural order of the world. And yet, the stench of that boy's body as he lay Not-Breath. His life was taken away out of spite. No animal would feast on him to give themselves energy. He would rot there, forever.

Wolf didn't want these taillesses to die. Nor the innocents of the island. But he knew he couldn't save anyone. Even Sen was better on it's own. it had no use for Wolf, it just let Wolf follow it because it knew Wolf was not a threat. It felt nothing for him, not the nobility of being the pack leader, nor the bitterness of having an enemy.

He could let the others fight, but Vexmagog had ambitions of peace. Loyalty. For once the Half-Beast was making sense.

Do not let his silver tounge sway you. That thing is not peaceful. Following it will only end in your downful, my beast.

Wolf blinked in surprise. That sound had not came from his ears, nor was it like how the Horned-One spoke. It felt, almost, like it came from inside of him. He listened for a long time, yet nothing else was said. He was curious. He once again thouht of Vexmagog. True, he did manipulate others too easily. He was very experianced at it, it seemed. He also seemed ready to fight, and powerful. He could kill the others if he wanted to. It seemed more likely then that Vex may be readying an attack, but posing as an ally to make sure his victory is swift and unseen. They wouldn't see it coming...

No. Wolf would. He will wait for Vex to make his move, and pounce from the shadows. Wolf was much quieter than he had been acting. If he didn't want to be seen, then he wouldn''t be. It was that simple.

As Wolf mulled over his dinner, a strange smell wafted through the air. It tickled his nostrils unlike anything he had smelled before. It was almost, alluring. He stretched and yawned, acting like he wasn't interested, before curiously prancing around, searching for the location of the smell. He heard the sounds of the males, and it seemed, two females, coming from a strange Den. He listened to their banter, and decided that the younger one was doubting the Furred-One. He made a mental note about that, and decided he may need to pay her a visit should he deem it necessary. He continued on, until he found a Den made of animal hides. A light gray smoke wafted through the tip, and as he walked closer, the smoke began to make him feel slightly calmer, and even stranger was the feeling of being lighter than before.

He poked his head through the canvass and saw two Tanned-Females laughing with each other. The room was thilled with the thick smoke, and there lay a Brigh..., hmm, a Fire, yes that's it, silly tailless talk, in the center of the Den. The females didn't notice him at first, and seemed more interested in placing a smoking brown object to their lips. Afterwords, they would breath the smoke out of their mouth. It seemed to Wolf that this arose much pleasure to the taillesses. Eventually, the slightly smaller tailless noticed Wolf entering, and nudged the other with her elbow. They shared a strange glance, and asked Wolf to come closer.

Initially, Wolf was confused. How did they know I understood them? Had my secret been revieled? This chain of though was answered when the bigger taillles swiped the other on the head and called them... One-Who-Knows-Little. She offered the little brown object to Wolf, and he carefully approached. The sniffed tentitively, waves of dizzyness drifting through his head as he did so, and bit down on the end. By mistake, he inhaled through his mouth as he did so, and a blindingly stinging sensation overcame his lungs. He spat the object out in a fit of coughing, causing histerity in the taillesses. THe Den seemed to blur in his eyes, and his paws would not answer his oerders to balance his body. He fell to his side as the sounds of laughter became dull and far away.
And yet, the feeling in his chest became lighter, nicer. It felt like he was at home for the first time.

Can you hear me?

Yes, he replied, unable to move his body.

Their drug has allowed me to finnally make a connection. Your mind is so different that a pesons, afterall. Listen Wolf, there is not much time. Once your body returns to your controll, you must hide in the woods. I will reveall myself to you there. But... Please, understand, none of this should have happened to you. Those people who captured you, they. They were followers of mine. A pack, you might say. They followed me even after I died. They were sad, and couldn't deal with the loss. They put me inside you Wolf. And now, I'm coming out, not of my own occord. I'd stay If I had A choice, but I'm sorry. All I can do is make sure you don't suffer. Do you understand?

Wolf mulled the idea over with the little amount of brain power the drug had left him. No, he did not undestand. But something wanted him in the woods, away from these taillesses, and that was enough for him. Wearily, he placed each paw forward and hefted himself upright. He drunkenly staggered from the Den and into the thick shrubbery of the forrest, away from the denizen of the taillesses.

Sruixan · 06-01-2010, 04:35 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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**Schazer** · 06-06-2010, 09:01 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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With a final delighted chatter, the last of the warriors fled the clearing. The patch of decidedly ill-looking forest was left eerily quiet save for the Tender's victorious crowing and the odd creak of a tree that had been pushed beyond its limits in service to Sen. The beast huffed gently, the cradling tendrils dying away around him as it lay content in the tropical sun. A stretch, a languorous, needle-tooth yawn, and Sen's hardwood claw started absently peeling off the plate armour, the whorled panels tumbling discarded down the sides of his gnarled citadel.

Standing, and stretching properly this time without the constraint of solid wood, the Tender crooned to itself, feeling thoroughly at peace with the world again. He surveyed the carnage from his throne, crrkt-ing with satisfaction as a telltale groan behind him became more drawn out. Moments later, a magnificent old giant, festooned with moss and creeper, began its stately descent, its essential biological processes having been terminally diverted to the exhausting task of growing far too many roots on one side. Sen cocked his head, trying to figure which way the tree was falling, before electing to abdicate. Sending one final command through the pillar of roots (and the weary trees that had contributed to it) to die, the beast scrambled down with only a couple of ungainly steps. There was a good minute or so until the craning behemoth would begin the rush to rest its crown in the clearing, but Sen certainly didn't fancy being stuck beneath it. Landing with a thud and clack as first his good hand, then his one with the wooden finger, took his weight, Sen, more out of habit, yowled the keening klaxon call reserved for when a peripheral tree was going down on his home world.

And to his surprise; a reply. Not the wail of his kin, but a frightened scream from across the clearing. Trrrrting in a conflicted fashion between a tree, slowly but unstoppably resorting to horizontal, and curiosity, Sen grunted and loped off to investigate.

Staying alert and aware while on the hunt, no matter how deceptively familiar the territory, was a vital skill for any huntress. Young Tolo was learning this the hard way, foolishly concluding that the easiest way to deal with the added hours of patrolling would be with a few extra leaves to smoke at night. A morning's inadequate rest, followed by her ferocious patrol leader mother dragging her along to apprehend one of the devils, had left Tolo dozy and irritable, and as a consequence, lying on the forest floor, breathing raggedly, impaled through the thigh with an acacia spine. Trying to sneak away from the main group, where the Tender's plant-warping attention had been concentrated, hadn't helped when she'd tripped over a marauding root onto the aforementioned spike. And her screams for help had attracted the wrong kind of attention - the green devil had trotted to her side, appraising her from above, while the dying tree loomed behind the tilted head, threatening to crush them both.

Sen glanced up at the creaking tree, then nudged Tolo with his foot, eliciting a pained expletive from the young woman. The Tender blinked, and must've looked ready to leave, for she cried desperately, "No! Please, help me!" Somehow, the creature must've understood that to leave the girl there would be to finally be properly responsible for a death - or perhaps Sen recalled his first memories of humans, only seeking to help him, understand him. Perhaps the battlelust had faded enough for the Tender to remember its role was an envoy; not a soldier. Regardless of intent, the Tender worked its snub head under the huntress, levering her up despite her protests of the spine still digging in. Ceasing her agonizing for long enough to wrap her arms around Sen's neck, the awkward quadruped made its stumbling, combined way out of the path of the falling tree. The timbre of its groaning changed enough that Sen lurched a little faster, eliciting more cries of pain from Tolo, until the tree ceased its bellyaching and came crashing to the ground.

Savouring the loamy smell of upturned dirt, Sen unceremoniously dumped Tolo on the ground to another cry, and trotted down the length of the downed giant until he was poking amongst its upturned roots. A sunward glance, an excited twitch of his fingers as the ground's quality proved ideal enough, considering the circumstances, and Sen had cleared the mess in a leap and strutted round the churned-up ring of soil which only an hour prior had a healthy tree growing from it. The Tender began to dig, the rutted dirt yielding easily to his enthusiastic claws. It took only moments to grab the pod from his left shoulder (the right was his preferred one to land on in a roll, anyway), nestle it in the soft loam at the base of the pit, and cover it all up before skipping back to Tolo.

The girl was lying on the ground, too worn out to do anything other than take deep breaths to stave off the pain. The now-open wound leaked a sluggish trickle of loam-staining red, the iron tang making Sen bare his teeth a little. Despite her protests, Sen flipped her over with a idle flick of his paw, slashed open his forearm, and daubed the barkslime upon her wound until it sealed shut, grumbling in a snarly sort of way that made Tolo cease her attempts to escape. The muscle was still ravaged, but at least the hole was patched over. Tolo stared up at the devil in confusion. Sen chattered, grinning, before lowering his head again and letting the girl wrap her arms around his neck, lifting her up before shuffling over to a tree and resting his snub head upon it, looking almost contemplative were it not for the huntress dangling off his front.

With a lurch, the Tender rose to its feet, and slowly lumbered off, to Tolo's surprise, in the direction of the village.

**Schazer** · 06-06-2010, 09:01 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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With a final delighted chatter, the last of the warriors fled the clearing. The patch of decidedly ill-looking forest was left eerily quiet save for the Tender's victorious crowing and the odd creak of a tree that had been pushed beyond its limits in service to Sen. The beast huffed gently, the cradling tendrils dying away around him as it lay content in the tropical sun. A stretch, a languorous, needle-tooth yawn, and Sen's hardwood claw started absently peeling off the plate armour, the whorled panels tumbling discarded down the sides of his gnarled citadel.

Standing, and stretching properly this time without the constraint of solid wood, the Tender crooned to itself, feeling thoroughly at peace with the world again. He surveyed the carnage from his throne, crrkt-ing with satisfaction as a telltale groan behind him became more drawn out. Moments later, a magnificent old giant, festooned with moss and creeper, began its stately descent, its essential biological processes having been terminally diverted to the exhausting task of growing far too many roots on one side. Sen cocked his head, trying to figure which way the tree was falling, before electing to abdicate. Sending one final command through the pillar of roots (and the weary trees that had contributed to it) to die, the beast scrambled down with only a couple of ungainly steps. There was a good minute or so until the craning behemoth would begin the rush to rest its crown in the clearing, but Sen certainly didn't fancy being stuck beneath it. Landing with a thud and clack as first his good hand, then his one with the wooden finger, took his weight, Sen, more out of habit, yowled the keening klaxon call reserved for when a peripheral tree was going down on his home world.

And to his surprise; a reply. Not the wail of his kin, but a frightened scream from across the clearing. Trrrrting in a conflicted fashion between a tree, slowly but unstoppably resorting to horizontal, and curiosity, Sen grunted and loped off to investigate.

Staying alert and aware while on the hunt, no matter how deceptively familiar the territory, was a vital skill for any huntress. Young Tolo was learning this the hard way, foolishly concluding that the easiest way to deal with the added hours of patrolling would be with a few extra leaves to smoke at night. A morning's inadequate rest, followed by her ferocious patrol leader mother dragging her along to apprehend one of the devils, had left Tolo dozy and irritable, and as a consequence, lying on the forest floor, breathing raggedly, impaled through the thigh with an acacia spine. Trying to sneak away from the main group, where the Tender's plant-warping attention had been concentrated, hadn't helped when she'd tripped over a marauding root onto the aforementioned spike. And her screams for help had attracted the wrong kind of attention - the green devil had trotted to her side, appraising her from above, while the dying tree loomed behind the tilted head, threatening to crush them both.

Sen glanced up at the creaking tree, then nudged Tolo with his foot, eliciting a pained expletive from the young woman. The Tender blinked, and must've looked ready to leave, for she cried desperately, "No! Please, help me!" Somehow, the creature must've understood that to leave the girl there would be to finally be properly responsible for a death - or perhaps Sen recalled his first memories of humans, only seeking to help him, understand him. Perhaps the battlelust had faded enough for the Tender to remember its role was an envoy; not a soldier. Regardless of intent, the Tender worked its snub head under the huntress, levering her up despite her protests of the spine still digging in. Ceasing her agonizing for long enough to wrap her arms around Sen's neck, the awkward quadruped made its stumbling, combined way out of the path of the falling tree. The timbre of its groaning changed enough that Sen lurched a little faster, eliciting more cries of pain from Tolo, until the tree ceased its bellyaching and came crashing to the ground.

Savouring the loamy smell of upturned dirt, Sen unceremoniously dumped Tolo on the ground to another cry, and trotted down the length of the downed giant until he was poking amongst its upturned roots. A sunward glance, an excited twitch of his fingers as the ground's quality proved ideal enough, considering the circumstances, and Sen had cleared the mess in a leap and strutted round the churned-up ring of soil which only an hour prior had a healthy tree growing from it. The Tender began to dig, the rutted dirt yielding easily to his enthusiastic claws. It took only moments to grab the pod from his left shoulder (the right was his preferred one to land on in a roll, anyway), nestle it in the soft loam at the base of the pit, and cover it all up before skipping back to Tolo.

The girl was lying on the ground, too worn out to do anything other than take deep breaths to stave off the pain. The now-open wound leaked a sluggish trickle of loam-staining red, the iron tang making Sen bare his teeth a little. Despite her protests, Sen flipped her over with a idle flick of his paw, slashed open his forearm, and daubed the barkslime upon her wound until it sealed shut, grumbling in a snarly sort of way that made Tolo cease her attempts to escape. The muscle was still ravaged, but at least the hole was patched over. Tolo stared up at the devil in confusion. Sen chattered, grinning, before lowering his head again and letting the girl wrap her arms around his neck, lifting her up before shuffling over to a tree and resting his snub head upon it, looking almost contemplative were it not for the huntress dangling off his front.

With a lurch, the Tender rose to its feet, and slowly lumbered off, to Tolo's surprise, in the direction of the village.

Sruixan · 06-13-2010, 12:03 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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Dragon Fogel · 06-13-2010, 12:30 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Sruixan · 06-13-2010, 12:33 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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Not The Author · 06-13-2010, 05:27 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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Though the island was relatively small by geographic standards, landmasses tend to be significantly more massive than the typical human or humanoid. Similarly, the volcano Jacob and John were currently scaling, despite having slighter stature than most of its land-locked brethren, was nevertheless still a mountain. While most of this would be immediately obvious to even the most casual observer, the cryomancer had apparently decided that this particular fact was incredibly obscure, and proceeded to explain precisely how tall the volcano was to his sullen companion.

"We're not gonna climb all the way to the top, are we? It's kind of a long way."

The knight glanced back at his diminutive companion. John was idly fanning himself with his cap, gaze flitting between various mid-size rocks and what little vegetation remained at their current altitude without actually seeming to notice any of what he saw.

"So you have said."

Jacob squinted against the light of the midday sun, searching the sheer rock face ahead of them. "And no, ideally we won't have to go that far. Vents usually form when a volcano erupts."

He resumed the upward trek, John following close behind. "The intense pressure forces magma through every little fault in the rock, and occasionally these magma veins manage to pierce the surface." He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. "In theory, one of those should get us inside."

The cryomancer seated himself upon the long-ago solidified remnant of a lava floe. "That sounds kinda dangerous..."
"Well, yes. There are a lot of things that could go wrong." Jacob attempted unsuccessfully to neaten his hair. "The vent could be too small, too steep, contain noxious gasses, deposit us in molten rock..."

"Well then, why don't we just use the door?"

"The..."

Jacob blinked as his brain struggled to process such a nonsensical suggestion. Then he remembered his job consisted of traveling back in time to steal precious artifacts and industrial secrets, that he had just been in an abandoned space station that had been trashed by the universe's largest tree, and that he was trying to kill a demon-lizard-plant-thing before it could make another moon-destroying oak. Suddenly a gateway into an active volcano didn't seem so far-fetched.

"...Door."

John pointed to a rocky outcropping not far above them. Not only was an artificially smooth concave parabolic surface partly visible over the ridge, the ridge itself curved away in a path leading back down the volcano.

"...Huh."

A few minutes of tedious-if-not-arduous ascent later, the pair stood before the aperture. The gateway stood about eight feet tall and appeared to be carved directly into the mountainside. Some unknown runic language, worn down with age, had been stenciled into the rock framing the door. The door itself was totally unblemished, a single solid slab of stone.

Something troubled Jacob about th "Who do you think made it?"

The knight sighed, his companion's amazing power to state the obvious undiminished by the heat that had sapped the rest of his powers. Ignoring John, he examined the runes around the gateway. John pushed against the door in a futile attempt to shift a multiple tons of rock. "Because, I don't think those guys with the spears coulda done this sort of thing. Didn't even manage arrowheads, but I guess they must have knives, or how'd they get the furs for clothing?"

The door abruptly slid upwards into the roof, causing the unsuspecting cryomancer to fall over backwards. He looked up at Jacob as the knight removed his hand from a depression in the wall shaped rather a lot like the archway in which they stood. He shook his head, starting up the newly-revealed staircase.

"Stupid ancient temples. No originality whatsoever..."

Sruixan · 06-14-2010, 10:41 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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GBCE · 06-16-2010, 03:34 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

Mohea searched apprehensively for any sign of their island's savior, the forgotten god, Vexmagog. She tried not to display her fears to the other women, putting on a strong facade. In truth, she was frightened. With his apparent aptitude, the fact that he had called his present battle "dangerous" was a source of concern. She wondered if she was overanalyzing. Her feelings for the being were as alien to her as he was; romance in her society was not often encountered, and breeding was a joyless affair--one she had participated in once prior. Those women chosen not to participate, women such as Nalu, were saved until their physical prime and offered as a gift to some of the more petulant gods. There were, however, some older stories: stories of couples with feelings for one another. Feelings of longing, feelings of passion. They would do anything for each other.

Not knowing any better, she imagined this was how they must have felt. And, again not knowing any better, she deemed her lust worth pursuing, thinking it a lofty goal comparable to those tales of old.

Her train of thought was broken by a golden streak outside, accompanied by several shrieks of surprise from women surrounding her. Vexmagog leapt from the platform above, spear thrust downward. Radiant golden energy seemed to emanate from him as he drove it downward towards something she couldn't see. He hit the ground and a black fog blasted straight up from his spear-point, a horrible shriek rising from it.

When the dust settled, Vexmagog withdrew his spear. Under where it had been, a pair of pure white hands sat motionless, deflated as though they were only the skin. The man who had been first captured emerged from the side of the platform, and Vexmagog spoke his alien language. The skins twitched to life at his approach. A few of the women shrieked with surprise as the hands flew towards the man, who merely held out his arms as the empty white skins fitted themselves neatly over his hands.

Vexmagog turned to address the gathering crowd. "Do not fear," he said, "I have purified these creatures. These hands once belonged to a god of another world. The destruction they caused to our temple is an example of the fearsomeness of the other creatures the shadow devils may bring to this island if one of the other outsiders are killed. I suspect one of them has died already. This is why it is imperative that the other outsiders survive!" He turned to face the foreign man beside him. "This man has shown good judgment, and I have granted these hands to him. He will use them to produce some items to aid in the capture of the green beast."

He turned and spoke some more alien words to the man, who provided a brief response and nodded, proceeding inside.

"There are four devils still casting their shadows over this island," he said. "Soon, after uncountable years, their darkness will cease, and your future will be clear of their influence forever!"

__________________________________________________ _____________________

Nalu circled the area where the feast was now in full swing. The target of her search should have been easy to make out within a crowd, but no horned heads were apparent among those assembled. Beginning to become a bit exasperated, she ascended the steps to the temple and peered over the edge of the platform at the entrance, trying to use her elevated position to find the so-called God of Light. She idly wound and unwound the closing-strings of a small pouch given to her by Amali in her hand as her eyes darted back and forth about the assembled crowd. One of the women near the entrance asked her what she was seeking, and upon speaking Vexmagog's name she was directed back deeper into the temple.

"What manner of god is absent for a feast in his honor?" she asked.

The other woman smiled strangely and shrugged. "He wished to speak to Mohea in private," she said. "They left just a moment ago." Nalu proceeded as directed, towards the private chambers. She did not find the pair immediately, and her mind quickly assembled an assumption about the meaning of their present absence.

Making a quick decision to find them before they proceeded further, she darted back and forth between the curtains separating the hall from the private chambers, calling Vexmagog's name. She received no response, but a quiet, feminine moan led her to one curtain further down the torch-lit hall.

Nalu quickly pulled back the curtain and called the god's name again. She found the pair in an intermediate state of undress. Mohea was laying back in the bedding in the far corner, supplemented by Vexmagog's green cloak. Her face was flushed as she looked at Nalu with a bothered expression. Vexmagog was kneeling beside her, a slight smile and a curious look on his furred face. "Yes?" he responded, nonchalantly.

Nalu was, despite her brashness, a clever girl. She stepped into the chamber and allowed the curtain to fall closed behind her, concealing the insistent internal conflict. She smiled. "I seek a pardon from my fate," she said.

Vexmagog was supporting himself on his cursed arm, his other hand resting on Mohea's stomach. "Seek it later," Mohea said, "we will returnnnn-"

Vexmagog glanced down at her and dragged his fingertips across her exposed stomach. Her back arched, she closed her eyes, and bit her lip. Her voice trailed off, her half-completed sentence forgotten. The satyr looked back up at the source of the interruption. "What fate is that?" he asked, as though Mohea had not said anything.

Nalu was struck by a feeling of familiarity, of closeness to this creature. After seeing his display in the shamaness's room, she had been expecting something of this sort. Her heart was beating through her chest, her mind was working feverishly to array her options. The ko-uki fungus would affect neither woman nor god. If he proved to be neither, well, she had saved the village. But what if she was wrong? Or, worse, what if he simply proived immune? Sexuality, something she was forbidden experience with... would she go through with it, should he prove unaffected? If he accepted her advance and was truly as he said... Well, she would be free. She allowed her expression to soften as if affected by the foreign feelings. "I have been chosen since birth to be offered to the gods at the prime of my life. I have not been touched by a man." She walked over and sat on the bedding next to Vexmagog. "I wish to offer myself to you, to spare me from that sacrifice."

Vexmagog began to grin widely, but stopped himself, instead nodding sagely. He looked down at Mohea, whose eyes fluttered open. Saying nothing, she looked back and forth between Vexmagog and Nalu, licked her lips, nodded, and seemed to be trying to pull the half-man over towards her. "Very well," he replied. He lifted his hand from Mohea's stomach, who exhaled audibly. He rolled over and, with his left arm, pulled Nalu into a kiss. A wave of feelings, unfamiliar and gratifying, flowed from his touch through her whole body at once. She felt momentarily lost, as though her body were not her own. She moved to respond, to be closer, pulling herself as near to him as she could. He pulled away from the kiss and turned to Mohea, pressing his lips to hers and eliciting the same reaction. Nalu noticed that he had removed her top but couldn't recall exactly when that happened. Watching Vexmagog and Mohea kiss, it took her a moment for her rational mind to catch up with her and realize that she had a job to do.

While his attention was diverted, she turned and patted the bedding to find the pouch she had dropped in her confusion. She dipped her fingers inside and scooped out a lump of brown paste, which she placed on her tongue. She then pushed the satyr down on his back and straddled one of his legs, pulling him into another kiss. Mohea, with heavy breath and unfocused eyes, frantically rolled over as well and tried to push her way back into the center of his attention.

Nalu was jostled out of the way, and only managed to deposit a fraction of the mass in his mouth. The rest rolled down and was deposited in the bedding. She'd received enough from the shamaness to affect five men, but would that fraction be enough? She nearly panicked. She did not want to go through with this and prove nothing. She scrabbled for the pouch to scrape more of the mess into her fingers, but his hands were on her again. She doubled over and fell onto the satyr's arm. Sounds came from her mouth unbidden, and her hands grabbed the fur on his chest tightly. Mohea tugged his pants down, her eager hands taking him with her lips still glued to his.

Nalu's hands tightened on the bag of fungus paste and she fought for control of her senses. She drew out another meager scraping, but dropped it from her shaking fingers.

Suddenly, the pleasure she'd been feeling stuttered. Nalu's urgency to be closer to Vexmagog halted so forceful her body physically recoiled, and her focus came flooding back with unexpected clarity. She felt suddenly cold as her face, once flushed with heat, paled instantly. Mohea stopped kissing Vexmagog and looked in his eyes concernedly. He blinked several times, his ears twitching in different directions. His head turned suddenly to face the empty wall, and his mouth and tongue stumbled on themselves, uttering nonsense syllables.

The ko-uki had proven enough. Nalu drew a deep breath and replaced her top, her hands shaking. Her actions in the last few minutes seemed suddenly absurd, ridiculous. Her passion was quickly converted to disgust. She turned to Mohea, who was shaking Vexmagog, calling his name.

"Stop," Nalu said forcefully. "He is among the Gods now." Mohea's face shifted, from despair, to anger, to confusion, and back to despair again.

"W...What did you do?" she asked. Tears welled up in her eyes, and Nalu could tell from her inflection that she already knew the answer. She picked up the pouch from the ground and offered it up to Mohea's inspection.

"Ko-uki," she replied. Mohea's face was an unreadable mess. Nalu allowed a moment, filled with Vexmagog's incoherent mumbling, for the truth to settle in. "It affected him. He is not a god. He will not return," Nalu said, her dispassionate voice contrasting sharply with her earlier vocalizations. Mohea sharply inhaled, stifling a larger reaction. "Put your clothes back on."[/color]

__________________________________________________ _____________________

Vexmagog almost panicked. He had wanted them so bad, and had been so close to taking them. Now, in a sudden jarring flash, his body was not there.

Vexmagog was only dimly aware of the forms of the women before him. Their words had become meaningless to him, especially in comparison with their colors. The colors of the stone walls, the tapestries, the women's bronzed skin: it all mingled together, blurred into indiscriminate dancing shapes. He was dimly aware of the sensation of two women lifting someone. It took him a moment to realize it was him. The one at his arms recoiled in pain, making a loud sound as she inadvertently touched Magog.

Magog, one being. Vex, another. Chaos born, formed, named, merged... and now, broken. Vex felt himself above where he was, rising into those dancing colors. He fell upwards into them, breaking through them into an infinite expanse of blistering awareness.

In that expanse, a figure towered over him, immense beyond all reckoning. His arms were long and thin, terminating in four-fingered hands like Vex's. Wings emerged from his shoulders, and they stretched off into an infinity so distant it reached around behind Vex, enclosing him. His long neck towered straight upwards, terminating in an uncomfortably flat, featureless head. This neck bent, bringing the head so close that it filled Vex's whole awareness.

"Adma Poki," came a voice from everywhere. "Brother Chaos. Vex. I have found you."

"Brother Dream. Devari. I am here," he replied.

Cracks spread from where the creature's eyes would have been, until his whole face began to crumble into a black void. Vex fell forward and was swallowed by it.[/color]

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GBCE · 06-16-2010, 08:43 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

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GBCE · 06-16-2010, 05:37 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

Drakenforge Wrote:

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SpoilerToo late do I realize my character twist may be a bad idea in this situation.
Damn Vex's penchant for raising cain.

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GBCE · 06-17-2010, 01:09 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

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**Schazer** · 06-24-2010, 01:02 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

Nalu dropped Vex's upper half with an unceremonious thud, gingerly examining the harsh burns Magog had inflicted. The skin on her hand had charred and melted almost immediately to a scarred mess. Nalu bit back the screams as Mohea placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Leave him." There was a cold steel to her voice, previously wavering. The two women, supporting each other, exited the chambers; Nalu however lingered at the entranceway, the sounds of male chanting, of feasting, of life as they knew it in the tribe reaching their ears without yet the sights to back them up. It was hard to tell which of the two women was worst bearing their shared knowledge of Vexmagog's deception - the young woman, the chance of escaping fate wrenched from her by her own Pandoran hand; or the shamaness, whose disappointment was more manifold, with her beliefs torn down and shored up and ripped apart again by this scheming intruder into their once-peaceful lives.

Nalu rubbed her hand. The pain was fading, but the scars remained, indelible. Pensively: "do we tell them?"

Mohea nodded, conflicted, her mouth half-open as though figuring out what to add. "The other strangers... they could well be devils, if their chief lied to us." The women looked to each other, glancing wordlessly down at the unremarkable pouch of Ko-Uki paste Nalu clutched in her Magog-scarred hand.

Blitz, still unsure of what was going on, and more confident of avoiding confrontation if he just stayed out of everyone's way, retreated to the edge of the clearing in the jungle which comprised the village. Apart from the occasional mistrustful glare from a villager, and fleeting acknowledgements from Vex amongst his incomprehensible liaisoning with the natives, Blitz was free to imagine the worst and fret over where Father had disappeared to.

Skulking around the perimeter, avoiding the feast, Blitz approached Steven. The man was surrounded by quite a crowd, watching as he methodically conjured up lengths of chain. A wary glance was shot in the wretched-looking kid's direction, their altercation at the end of the last round not forgotten. Unsure, but sick of having no idea what was going on, Blitz slowly approached once it looked like the gloves had finished their work, leaving Steven to piece it all together into an effective Tender-trap.

With a rising hubbub, the crowd's attention shifted to the other side of the clearing. There was a bit of shouting, but it didn't sound too alarmed. The pair of outsiders took the chance to reconcile and reconnoitre, free of suspicious onlookers. Blitz stood awkwardly, just watching Steven shuffling the chains around on the ground, figuring how best to go about this.

"I..." he gave up trying to segue this and cut to the chase. "Steven, what's going on?"

The journeyman glanced up from his work, at the twitchy, anxious-looking kid. "Honestly, I don't know. Vex convinced the natives we're not looking for trouble." An inscrutable shrug, and the two paused as the destructive left glove soared back to its roost, whatever it reported prompting Steven to systematically uncreate the mesh of chains. Noting Blitz's questioning look, he explained, "Vex asked me to make a trap for Sen, so he couldn't destroy the island while we tried to stop the battle."

"then, uh, why-"

Steven dusted off his jeans as he rose, only a faint impression in the dirt where his work had lain. "he just arrived, with a native girl around his neck."

The Tender divested itself of Tolo with a gentle swaying motion, tail twitching thoughtfully as Sen appraised the ring of spears now pointed at him. The disorganised return of the defeated hunting squad had coincided rather fortuitously with Vexmagog's attentions being directed elsewhere, and news of the green devil's single-handed victory had yet to spread through the village. As Mohea and Nalu emerged from the hole in the mountain, Sen emerged from the forest to the nervous mutter of rabble. Cries of fear, their pitch shifting to surprise, were heard through the clearing as the beast and then its cargo were spotted.

From their higher vantage point, the two women watched to see what the beast or devil would do, as one huntress broke ranks and tried to grab the injured girl from underneath Sen's watchful, glittering eye.

Sen made no response save for huffing quietly. Removed from the heat of battle, the Tender was finally recalling its floral roots - plants did not use the element of surprise, save when a foe underestimated their tenacity. Plants bent, accomodated, insinuated, until the tipping point was reached and the cradle suddenly became a casket and its occupants didn't realise until it was too late.

To this end, Sen was willing to be patient - with the children of this land, at any rate. Those pesky ones that had pursued him from one potential colony to the next, well... not knowing how to deal with those, the beast figured as far as it was consciously capable of thinking that it'd figure that out as it went. Or had to.

With clumsy slowness, Sen's gangly legs folded and the green beast crouched upon the ground, staring solemnly at the perplexed huntress who was taking in Tolo's breathless explanation of what had happened in the jungle.

GBCE · 06-26-2010, 03:38 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

The first few minutes were hazy at best for Wolf. The voice in his head kept apologising for something he didn't know about. He understood patches of her explanations, but they were meaningless on their own. There was something about being not-breath, like freshly hunted prey. Danger also popped up several times. But Wolf was still too dizzy to make sense of anything. He eventually sniffed out a fast-wet and wobbled over to it. He sank his head into the cold water, shook himself off, and lapped up as much as he could. He felt better, the world wasn't half as blurry as it had been, and he was able to balance properly again. His stomach still hurt though, even worse than before.

How do you feel?

My gut hurts in a way I have never felt before. But apart from that I seem fine.

I see. That's something, at least. Let me introduce myself while I still have time. My name is Iris, I was once the, how should I explain, head female I suppose, of the clan of humans that worships the wolf. Those people who captured you before this began, they were also of that clan. They sought to bring me back. Nobody ever managed to surpass my expertise it seems, so they thought me some sort of supernatural being. Well, they were right in some ways. My gifts did allow me to have greater than human abilities. But I was dead for several centuries. My legends became mere myth. Fanatics arose. All while I was gaining power in the nether...

No, that won't make much sense to you so I won't bother you with the details. I was once dead. Not-breath. But they kept a part of me, my heart, in perfect condition. They even revitalised it to some extent, but how I do not know. And so, they were going to bring me back to the mortal world as one of my descendants as a bridge, and as a host.

But that's when you popped up. I foresaw that you would leave that world Wolf. Your fate was decided. With the girl overpowered by medicine I possessed her for a time. I decreed that I would take your body and not hers.

So that is why the taillesses bound me. How did they get you in my head?

It isn't your head I am inside, Wolf. They drugged you, and, well.

They cut out your heart. The one beating inside your body right now is mine. My souls are connected to it, and through it, to you. I can't get my own body to this world without sacrificing yours. This was a terrible price, and I'm sorry. I was selfish. Too see it as merely shortening your life a little was the wrong way to go about this.

Then I was to become not-breath anyway. How did you know this?

That is how this game works. One must die each time the location changes, and each location change is triggered by a death. That is the part of the rules you could not understand, but since I'm sharing my knowledge with you, you can finally understand the future tense. That is why Vex has been looking for ways out, for peace. But things are never that easy. Each location will harbour difficulties that stand in his way. Ultimately, our deaths don't mean anything to them.

Wolf understood. This person was strong, he could feel it in her souls. He was just an animal. He was unnatural, a thing that should not be. A wolf that is not a wolf. He decided then, that he could be more use in death.

What will happen when I die?

This question surprised the sage. She knew where the doomed spirits of her kind went, at least in her own realm. She knew not where the spirits of the animals went. It was assumed by the clans they joined the Guardian spirits and watched over the world. But from her experience, that might not have been what happens.

I'll bring you back there. To where you belong. You'll get to watch over your kind.

It wasn't a lie. She told him exactly what she had believed. The guardians where still back there. Perhaps Wolf would join them. She would bring his spirit back and let him ascend. She promised herself this.

Wolf accepted her words. He sniffed out the others. Two were up the volcano. Steven was with Blitz, and Sen too, was there. Vex was surrounded by the tribal people.

He could meet up with Sen, or find Vex and explain things.

There seems to be a problem with Vex. And Sen is very near the dark-skinned taillesses.

Hm. I do not like the sound of either of those facts. For now, observe them. I'll see what we can do then.

Wolf loped towards them as fast as he could manage, ripping through bushes and shrubs with little regard for leaving tracks. He could hear the taillesses speak clearly with his sensitive ears, and picked up Steven conversing with Blitz. He overheard that Vex had asked Steven to make a trap to contain him.

Did you catch that?

Yes. It seems Vex had a plan to stay here for quite some time. If Sen unleashed another of those huge plants, this world would be overrun in minutes. I doubt that is the final outcome of this world. Listen, what do you hear from the animals native to this world?

Wolf did as she asked. All he could hear on the entire island was the sound of creatures attempting to be very quiet. No birds sang and no plant eaters scrounged. There was danger looming over the island and all the animals could feel it. Wolf also felt unneasy.

Quiet. They fear something. Danger.

Exactly. Something bad is about to happen, and I bet that volcano is the key. Something might trigger an eruption. We better ask about it. You don't mind revealing yourself, do you?

It doesn't matter anymore. Let them know I am unnatural for all the good it will do them.

Wolf approached the camp and passed by the lengths of chains. He padded up to a female sharpening tools and said "Tell me everything about the volcano. Now. And don't look at me like that, yes, I can talk. Now make with the explanation."

In hindsight he felt he should have been more courteous, but there was too much riding on the answers she could provide.

"Uh... eh? Oh, ok. Well, we honour the ancient one who keeps it's fire's at bay. It's tradition. Lately we've had to appease it more and more. I hope it calms down soon."

Ancient one? There must be some sort of god that overlooks things here.

Like Vexmagog?

Most likely. We should see what he thinks of this.

Wolf quickly sniffed out his unique scent and padded towards his location. He saw Sen kneeling close to the humans. He felt kind of sad, knowing that he might never appease his pack-leader for whatever he had done to anger it in the last round. He made a mental apology to it, and moved on. He was not expecting to find Vexmagog unconscious. And from the sounds of it, his arm had done some damage while he was out cold.

It looks like they drugged him. I don't know how long he'll be. From the looks of it, some sort of fungus. Short term for someone like him. I just hope that... No. Oh dear. That would be bad.

What? What's wrong with him being asleep?

These drugs bring beings closer to spirits and such things. That's how I managed to get through to you. But for Vex's case, he's a god. He could probably commune with the other gods in his state. And if the state of the volcano shows anything, it seems that god will not have a very large tolerance for antics. I pray that Vex keeps a cool head while he's out. Otherwise, we'll all be in very deep trouble.

GBCE · 07-01-2010, 08:06 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Weldar.

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The left glove was grumpy and tired. Just minutes ago everything had been going oh so well just minutes ago, crashing through through that wall had brought the memories flooding back and then it had been called on the play the role of a monster, something it could to all too well. But it had come to end end all too soon' Already they had been called back, and for what? Creating a trap, bah. Why make the tools for some sort of peaceful resolution? Just crush the beast. And now that the rush and excitement had worn it was tired, the glove realized how weak it really was. In the past it could crush mountains like they were nothing but now barging through a single wall almost completely wore it out. How it longed for those days of old. How it wished it could just tare a hole in this volcano with its bare hands and watch the island be consumed by fire. Perhaps there would be another opportunity now. The other half was creating, maybe it would wear itself out, but no it was too tired itself. And what was that, movement? There it was, the green beast was approaching. And was that a native girl? Perhaps this was another chance to have some fun? But no, once again it was too tired for it. It couldn't cause any chaos effectively in this state. The glove began to regret its decision to barge through that wall, sure it had been fun but now it was just ruining chances for more fun. It would have watch itself in future, it couldn't let any more chances slip by. For now it would simply report what it had seen, as it was supposed to be. Then it could rest, the time for fun would come soon enough.

It felt good to create again. Unlike the left the right glove had been much happier to be called back so soon. It had been shocked by its comrades behaviour but still hadn't fully realized the true meaning behind it. It was a being of destruction after all it made sense for it to get a little worked up in a fight to the death. Like the Master himself the right glove had forgotten about one very important detail, it still didn't realize how big a mistake the master had made in the making of the gloves. But even so the glove was not concerned about any of this. While it was creating it's mind was fully absorbed by the task at hand. However the job went on it felt a twinge of sadness. Already it was beginning to tire. True it was partly its fault. It knew it was abut a small part of the whole and alone it was weak and yet even so it tried to do all the work on it's own and spare Steven the strain. It did miss being part of the whole but what it missed most was creating life. But still, like the Master the glove was fond of Steven, both of them were and the right one at least was happy to be helping him. There, done. The glove lay down to rest while Steven set to work assembling the pieces but he was quickly interrupted. The left had arrived and brought news of the green beast. At once Steven began destroying chains the right had only just recently finished. The glove watched on in silent sorrow. It pained it to see it's hard work, how quickly and easily it simply dissolved back into nothing. Put what disturbed the glove the most was how much pleasure the left seemed to be taking in destroying its creations.

GBCE · 07-05-2010, 10:04 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by redskap.

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Blitz ran his fingers through his hair, slightly nervous at the appearance of Sen. He looked at the resting creature, his gaze wary. It was different than before; warped, and somehow a brownish color. Something had happened to it in the time it had spent in the forest. Perhaps it was adapting to this new place? Maybe it just changed itself every time it encountered a new environment. He didn't really have much to go off of; the only previous experience he'd had with the thing was in some giant ball of steel, with only one patch of green. Maybe this was its natural form...although it looked a little lopsided for that. He shook his head, dismissing his musings. It didn't really matter. It didn't seem to be feeling very violent right now, and that was what was important. If nothing else, it would be easier to trap in this docile state...if that was what they were really going to do. He glanced over at Steven, wondering why he had decided to destroy his mass of chains. I guess we would have had to catch it by surprise...and now that it's here, we can't. Or maybe there's something else behind it? Well, it's gone now.

He looked again at the beast and the villagers that had surrounded it. They all stood well back, away from the thing that had brought them this wounded woman. The girl that Sen had brought was still talking to one of the other natives, probably explaining how she had come to ride on this thing. He began walking toward the crowd, wanting to get a closer look at Sen himself. He only hoped that Sen wouldn't react negatively to his presence. After all, their last real interaction hadn't been all that pleasant.

GBCE · 07-07-2010, 01:55 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Weldar.

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The left glove watched Sen's approach with disappointment. For once it appeared the beast did not want to attack anyone, how boring. It slipped itself back onto Steven's hand, nothing interesting was happening may as well take this chance to rest.

Steven made his way towards the crowd as well. It felt strange, the creature was surrounded by people but seemed to be paying relatively little attention to them, or at least little no violent attentions, it didn't seem right. At that moment Steven suddenly remember something the glove had told him in the previous round, or maybe the right glove had just reminded him. It hadn't always been aggressive, it had been very caring towards it's tree. Sen wasn't violent he was just very protective and territorial. Steven glanced nervously out at the forest. So many trees, hopefully it hasn't planted another of them. Sen's appearance seemed to have casued much commotion, however being unable to understand anything Blitz and Steven were both stuck useless and forgotten in the middle of it all.

"So uhh, why did you destroy the chains?" asked Blitz

"Uhh....well" Steven fumbled. Now that he thought about it he wasn't too sure himself. "Well it doesn't really look like we'll need them anymore. Not much use in keeping them around"

"They still could have been useful, and who knows what that's things going to do. Capturing it down is still probably a good idea.

"Yeah, but...... I really don't know. I didn't really think about it I just did it, I guess it just felt like the right thing to do.

Down on Steven's hand the left glove lay "sleeping". It may not have a face but if it did rest assured it would have been smirking right then

**Pinary** · 07-09-2010, 07:37 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

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Not The Author · 07-11-2010, 01:12 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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Stupid stairs with this stupid climbing and oh shit was that a scream? I thought the screams were over... Well, whatever. I guess the tree-thing stopped killing everyone. Stupid hot forest. At least it's cooler in here. But it's so dark, too. At least there's the glow from this guy's sword. Why does his sword glow, anyway? Must be magic or something. "Hey, what's that noise? It's kinda creepy. Like someone's chanting off in the- oh. Or it could be your watch. There's that too." Well, at least it's just dark now. Was it creepier before he turned off the noise? I think so.

Ugh, this is stupid! Why am I going into a volcano? I mean sure it's a bit cooler in this tunnel than out there, but it's also really dry and stuffy and it's going to get really hot when we get to the lava. Or is it magma? Whatever. How's this guy gonna lug lava around, anyway? Tree-thingy's probably gonna wander off and then this guy's gonna hafta chase it around carrying lava. Has he thought this through? Probably not. My leg's starting to hurt. When're these stupid stairs going to- Oh hey, it's getting lighter! But also hotter. Great.

The pair emerged in a skewed cylindrical chamber reminiscent of a lobby. A large, rectangular stone bench sat in the middle of the chamber, preceded by a small pedestal topped with a shallow depression containing a few ashes. The walls were smooth and blackened, flecked here and there with shards of ebon crystal, and engraved with various scenes of women, occasionally men, and a few recurring non-human entities of a presumably deific nature. Prominently featured over the opposite archway in an especially large and detailed etch was a tall, lithe, well-endowed feminine figure sporting unkempt shoulder-length hair and either a feathered shawl or a pair of wings running along her arms.

Though the chamber did pierce the surface of the volcano, what paltry sunlight filtered in was neither sufficient nor orange enough to illuminate the chamber as it was. Only after one realized that the floor was composed entirely of translucent quartz did one realize that yes, that was the glow of molten rock somewhere under your feet. Though the technology required to manage this was most certainly beyond the capacity of the island's tribal residents, Jacob had stopped questioning such things around the time he'd learned to kill people by making their heads too heavy for their spines to support.

"Ugh, finally! Thought those stupid stairs would never end. I'mma rest here for a bit."

The cryomancer seated himself atop the bench, feet dangling slightly off the ground. Jacob huffed, not particularly tired so much as once again finding the inside of a volcano just a tad too toasty for his liking. Despite the fact that there was quite clearly molten rock beneath their feet, he was both hesitant to accidentally misgauge the shaft's depth and flood the chamber with magma, and honestly more than a little curious as to where the second path from the chamber led. "Yeah, you stay here. I'm gonna... I'm gonna look around." The knight adjusted his collar as he made his way around the room. "And don't touch anything."

Waving aside some muttered dismissal of his instructions, Jacob proceeded into the larger tunnel. The path was somewhat more poorly lit as the floor had returned to stone, but the images lining the walls were easy enough to discern. The winged woman's already evident importance was hammered into his skull by her persistent intricacy of design and increasingly frequent appearance. The path grew increasingly larger as he progressed, the ambient orange light and accompanying heat growing stronger with each step.

Abruptly, the tunnel came to an end, and Jacob found himself on what could not possibly be a naturally occurring precipice overlooking the caldera.

The jutting cliff was just the right shape from which one might precariously dangle lion cubs, and most certainly would have been blown out with the rest of the detritus during any previous eruption. It was far too smooth as well; the inner volcano walls were scarred and cracked from the must-be-triple-digit heat wafting up from the center of the planet as well as from slowly collapsing under their own multiple-ton weights. The material, as well, was the same crystal as composed the floor of the preceding lobby. Near enough the edge of the protrusion to cause one to wonder why it hadn't fallen into the magma yet was a magnificent statue of the harpy-esque woman. Standing at about eight feet tall, her body was crafted from pure obsidian, prismatic feathers gleaming in the molten glow, arms reaching up majestically towards the sky. She nearly looked as though she might take flight any moment.

Despite a mild academic interest, Jacob managed to not actually care all that much. He was instead trying to determine just how much lava it would take to kill a large velociraptor made of trees and science.

Gravitational manipulation, while not one of his favored skills, was invaluable for fanciful acrobatics, disorienting enemies, arresting and reversing falls, and propelling shrapnel through vital organs at high velocities. While versatile, Jacob found Gravity lacking a certain... finesse that came with the other violations of physics. Less impressive to forcibly shove someone out a window as to watch them crash through it themselves under their own stupidly-high inertia. Still, it was one of the easier powers to learn, and inexpensive enough that even an unpracticed chronomancer such as himself could help four other men and their dog run down the side of a skyscraper in about twelve minutes.

A globule of red-orange liquid death floated lazily upwards, buoyed by the very forces that normally kept it earthbound. The melon-sized sphere detoured in a lazy spiral before coming to rest around eye-level. With a thought, Jacob shifted it to the left, then the right, before manipulating reality to make the ball follow him at a distance.

Satisfied, he turned around and came face-to-face with a strikingly familiar lady who appeared to be made of fire.

You do not belong here.

Sruixan · 07-15-2010, 03:39 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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SpoilerI'm sorry in advance, but I had a conversation with Fogel on IRC and couldn't help myself afterwards...

-~-~-~-~-~-~

[background=black:3ef8tmuf]Somewhere else entirely...[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"I'm pretty sure that's a cobweb."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Shut it."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"Yep, it's a cobweb alright... and another one..."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Shut. It."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"Ooh, this one's got bells on..."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Ahem."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"Sorry."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=black:3ef8tmuf]Lit only by the flickering light of several screens, a rather miffed-looking man sat, hand on chin, watching something transpire on one of his light sources. His companion was picking various detritus from his colleague's exceptionally long hair, purely to annoy him yet further.[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Honestly, you shouldn't be so rude. I'm the one who's sat here for goodness knows how long, watching paint dry... it should be blood, dammit. Not that I want blood, mind; it's just, you know..."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]The shadowy figure behind him nodded, appreciating the concern.

"Yeah, well. It's only been a couple of hours, you know."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Feels like an awful lot longer, let me tell you..."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"You already have. Thrice, I believe."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Shut it."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=black:3ef8tmuf]There was an awkward pause, lasting a couple of seconds too long.[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"So, um, how was the Organiser?"[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"Not too bad. Off his rocker as always, to be honest. The Composer and I were the only ones who showed up."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=black:3ef8tmuf]Another pause, similarly long. Another cobweb was removed.[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"So, were they good schemes?"[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"Meh, they were alright."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=black:3ef8tmuf]The offending spider was finally located and promptly evicted.[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"You're not going to tell me what they were, knowing how much you delight in my agonised suspense..."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"It's classified information, you know."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Meh. You always double-cross them eventually."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"True. But maybe this time it won't be to you."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"That'll be the day..."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"Are we there yet?"[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"They're all showing signs of being stubbornly alive at present. Shouldn't be long, though."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=darkblue:3ef8tmuf]"You said that before I left a few hours ago."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

[background=indigo:3ef8tmuf]"Shut it."[/background:3ef8tmuf]

-~-~-~-~-~-~

On a serious note, Fogel says this could be done in two posts, and I happen to agree. How's about we wrap this up by the end of this week? Or is that too optimistic...?