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Post by Deleted on Mar 28, 2010 18:48:23 GMT -5
Timeless River has been attacked by Light. Light Group | Attacking: Luneth [Leader]
Cid Highwind
Warrior of Light
Edward Chris von Muir ----- The Dark has ten days to get a team together to counter this attack or the Light will have a claim on the world! Light, feel free to post here. Another post will be added when the Dark gets a Raid Group, or if the Light has won the world! Keep an eye out! |
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Post by Larxene on Apr 4, 2010 19:46:51 GMT -5
A Dark Group of Four has Countered the Attack! Dark Group | Defending:
Xande [Leader]
Primarch Dysley
Master Xenahort
Mozenrath
---- Posting Order: Warrior of Light, Xande, Edward, Primarch Dysley, Luneth, Mozenrath, Cid, then Master Xehahort.---- If no winner has been decided by May 4th, then a staff member will review and decide the winner! Remember the Rules!! - [ RULES HERE] Let the Battle Begin!! |
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Post by warrior on Apr 5, 2010 1:09:10 GMT -5
He had to admit, he had never ventured into a battlefield so... dull. When the small knight spoke to him of a new war- a new goal to secure worlds in the name of the light- the images that came to the Warrior were images of gore and glory, of bright flames and dark blood. He did not expect a world devoid of nearly all color, where every resident was some sort of bizarre, sentient animal. It was certainly different than what he had anticipated, but it was to be the battlefield nonetheless, if they were to be met with resistance by the darkness. Was this not exactly what had happened so many times before?
Instead of Chaos, the masterminds were these 'Heartless' he had been told of... and it disturbed the Warrior to think that there was an alliance fighting for harmony and justice, when he assumed the embodiment of such attributes was dead. False promises of final battles, beliefs that perhaps the last cycle was at hand- was it all a lie?
He could not worry about such things now. When he found the first familiar thing he'd seen since awakening in this universe, he asked no other questions. He was a fighter- and he was here to fight. He certainly questioned the strength and bravery of some of their allies- namely the bard that had somehow accompanied them- but he would persevere. No matter what foe attempted to stop their charge, the Warrior would do his best to fight back and defeat them. The darkness could never smother the light- it hadn't before, and it hadn't now.
To think he was planning on simply being an escort of sorts while his younger ally explored an area that the darkness had retreated from... the last thing the Warrior thought he would find in a castle was a door to another world, let alone one that seemed so harmless and hidden. Was it really necessary to stake their claim on such a place? Surely there were stronger worlds to claim- more important bases to found. Was there some ulterior motive to all of this...?
Sighing, flexing his hand as the Warrior stared at the washed-out monochrome world around him, all he could do was wonder just what they were going to face in this new war. The two others that traveled with them... the Warrior had no idea who they were, what they wanted, or what their names were.
"At least they have names to reveal. I am what I appear to be."[/color]
The riverbed they had halted at seemed innocent enough, though the black pigment of the water was unsettling, reminding the Warrior far too much of Kraken's ink. Why could he remember battles and conflicts, but not remember his own name? Did he even have a name to remember after all...?
He would ponder this later. The thick river sliced the area in half, no crossing visible. The area was rather clear- the Warrior noted a few trees standing tall, but other than that, the scenery was just as drab and uninteresting as the rest of the world. Why was everything so black-and-white? Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or was the world itself cursed by some sort of demon?
It was supposed to be a swift, decisive victory. Oh, how very wrong the Warrior would be in hindsight. He knew that unsettling aura- that foul change in the air, ceasing his observations of the river immediately.
"...Something's here."
It was a gut feeling, a primal instinct- but the Warrior still grabbed his sword and shield, stoic and weary as ever. He had planned on crossing the river with a simple jump- but it now seemed wiser to stay where he was. He had been rather silent for most of the trip, responding to most inquiries with brief nods or simply ignoring them entirely.
He had been letting his guard down for the slightest of moments- no longer.
Whatever was to come, the Warrior would face it with the same ferocity and resolve as he would if he was staring down Chaos.
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Post by xande on Apr 5, 2010 23:27:52 GMT -5
(Presenting Xande: Model TR) There was no reason not to anticipate a world that did not adhere to expectation. That was the idea behind “another world”; that it was most likely different from your own in some fundamental way. Different rules, fauna, or the like. Xande had not, however, expected to encounter a setting in which his physical being was warped into another form. That this world seemed to lack anything in the form of color did not trouble him, and that the scenery seemed to dance before his very eyes was not completely beyond expectation. But as he looked himself over, arms held out and eyes peering down his torso as best he could, the sorcerer was surprised to find that his actual shape had been altered.
Amusingly, the hue of his skin had not been altered much beyond the status quo. Xande was more than aware of his unusual complexion, and here it would have blended in rather nicely. His overall stature had shrunk, however. That was the only way he could describe it. His features had been reduced to their absolute basic level, and his body itself seemed somewhat out of acceptable human proportions. It looked so....artificial. And yet it fit spot-on with the surrounding landscape, surreal as it was. Like a sketch upon a piece of parchment... he mused to himself. Perhaps that was what this world truly was? It would certainly explain the monotone color scheme.
But he was not here to sightsee, fascinating as this world was. Nay, if anything he would be taking a more active role in the events to come. For it was his understanding that the Light had set foot in these lands, and in response he would gladly make this place their gateway to hell. As he understood it this spot was a sort of glimpse into the past; a sort of glimpse at how things once were. As such, gaining a foothold upon this monochromatic realm could potentially shift the present balance of power. It was a direct window into the Disney Castle, and as such needed to be closed lest certain vermin use it to gain entry. In the meantime he would just have to be the poison to kill the pests. The call to action had been sent forth to those in the position to lend aid, and though he did not expect a spectacular turnout he hoped that they might even whatever odds came his way.
Stepping into the open, and as such closer to the river, he became aware of another. Xande’s gaze shifted over slightly to the right, towards the figure who had appeared in his peripheral vision. An armored man, monochrome and with weapon drawn, stood along his side of the flowing stream. Though the sorcerer knew him not, there was no mistaking him as anything but one amongst the ranks of the Light. That stance, that look of vigilance....he just looked like some sort of “hero.” To Xande, he was just the first of many corpses he would step over today. He raised his free hand in the direction of the ready knight, as if trying to grasp him with it. His lips formed a cruel, mirthless smile. “Fall.” He sent forth his Blizzaga, aiming to impale the man through the groin from a well-placed spire of ice. |
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Post by youspoonybard on Apr 7, 2010 7:26:47 GMT -5
This world was...quite different from what he was used to seeing in his travels. Had the prince been told -- and he had been told -- that he would be fighting in a world devoid of color, that the interplay of light and dark would be taken to a literal level, Edward might have accepted it with a couple grains of salt, and marched on. But the world not only robbed him of his flamboyant colors and left his gaudy dress drab shades of grey, it...it...well...changed him. Every inch of complex anatomy was quite suddenly reduced to only the simplest curves and angles -- and there were far more curves than angles -- and ornate designs, such as the rose of his lute, were either greatly simplified or omitted entirely. It was as if the entire world were nothing more than the amateur drawings of a young child, brought to a twisted realism by some whimsical sorcerer. And while Edward didn't find sentient beasts to be entirely out of the ordinary (sentient vehicles and objects, though, were another thing entirely), the silliness that manifested in their behavior and the laws of physics themselves was perhaps a little bit eerie.
Nevertheless, he had one way or another managed to fall in with a group of like-minded denizens of the Light, and if the world needed rescuing from the hellish maw of Darkness, he was all too willing to lend a helping harp hand. After all, every world deserved to bask in the splendor of peace, no matter how alien said world might be -- and just because a world was strange, that didn't make it any less significant than, for instance, his own Blue Planet. Just how much help a bard would be wasn't exactly clear, but he had stood up to tyranny before, and he would do it time and time again; after all, Cecil would do the same.
In the relative tranquility of their journey, though, he couldn't help but be distracted. While one of his comrades somehow managed to stay silent and broody despite the rampant silliness around him (and the silliness of his own appearance, Edward mused), the prince could not bring himself to be so serious. Everything was new and interesting, and more often than not he indulged his curiosity and touched some foreign object, smelled an unfamiliar flower, greeted a random stray animal in the hopes of striking up some fascinating conversation, and now, passing the dark river that divided the plains, he was timidly testing the water to see if it was, in fact, water.
"...Something's here."
Edward dropped the handful of water before tasting it, turning to the armored knight with a look of alarm. His sword and shield were already out and at the ready, preparing for whatever crossed their path. The bard's own ears listened to no avail; he was trained to pick out chords and keys, not the subtle step of an enemy's approach or the bated breath of a foe waiting in ambush. Drying his hands on the hem of his tunic, he rose from the riverbank and tried to ascertain the threat with his eyes instead. With fear already clawing at his gut, Edward shifted his lute against his chest and held the neck tightly.
"...Are you cert--" and then a great black devil of a man stepped out from the -- somewhere and made his intent known with an expression of complete sadism.
Edward was already running before the first spell was cast.
The knight had a shield, and carried himself with enough prestige that the prince had no doubts he could handle whatever attacks were thrown his way. That being said, if that hateful fiend was strong enough to wipe out the knight and Edward's other allies in the seconds it took for the bard to find something to hide behind, then Edward would already have a good head-start for running all the way back to Damcyan if he had to. A backwards glance revealed that Armageddon hadn't broken out yet, and, emboldened, Edward mustered enough courage to duck behind a very nearby tree and watch the battle from there. Oh, gods, did that child really understand what he was up against?
He had to help somehow. There was no way he could defend against the sort of spells the fiend was casting -- a shield was far more suited for that than a lute -- nor did he have the means to inflict any wounds beyond the negligible, were he to even get close enough for that. So Edward resorted to doing what he did best; keeping an eye on the skirmish, the bard took his lute and started playing a fast, erratic, discordant tune that seemed to echo from every direction at once, variations in volume and tempo making it all the more distracting. The whole area seemed to take on an Alluring Air, magic weaving into a melody that could turn the most focused warriors disoriented and confused; Edward just hoped that their enemy (or enemies, should more join the fray) were vulnerable to such a trick.
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Post by dysley on Apr 8, 2010 18:21:58 GMT -5
He never thought he'd see a world so...boring. He'd heard how some worlds differ but this was just not needed. He even felt different. As he looked down he saw that his clothes had become alot less detailed and plain, almost looking like a normal white robe. He grunted and looked back up and saw a hill. he walked onto the hill and saw a river than had a certain blackish hue. He knew he was here to prevent the Light from gaining a foothold at a direct doorway into Disney Castle, but he stared at the river for a few minutes thinking of the best way to dispose of his enemies.
Who would've thought there were more worlds out there other than Cocoon and Gran Pulse? Just thinking of all the possible people to manipulate made Dysley smile menacingly. All those people, all those sacrifices. It'd be glorious to sit at the top watching all the pathetic human peons destroy each other. Worlds in ruin afraid of their neighboring worlds invading them and destroying them, while draining them from the inside out...it made him want to go back to Cocoon a little to finish his job, but this was of more importance.
He thought then of his ally he had seen coming to this world. A strange man dressed in blue. Dysley wondered if they had any other allies in this monochrome world. He then thought of his allies, he had never seen a warrior of the Light before, except for a few rogue L'Cie back on Cocoon, and wondered if they were as easy to break as normal humans. He wondered if he'd have to...
He then heard a strange melody in the not-so-far distance. Its fast pace had stirred him from his thought. He turned his head to see three strange men. he could easily tell that two of them were fighters of Light. Though one was fully equipped for battle, the other was nothing more than a boy with an annoying instrument. While the third, he could kiss was a dark man who attacking the warrior. He could easily tell that this man was an ally in darkness. He could easily dispatch of the boy from behind while the warrior and this ally fought.
What an annoying sound.
Dysley drew his hand to his side and summoned his staff. He lifted it over his head as three white spheres surrounded the tip.
"Enjoy your Baptism in Ruin, pawn of Light"
He thrust his staff down, releasing all three spheres towards the boy with the weird instrument.
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Post by luneth on Apr 9, 2010 8:20:59 GMT -5
(OOC: The awesomesauceness of Timeless River Onion Knight. 
It started off with a brilliant idea that only a teen genius like himself could come up with.
The world of Radiant Garden was a mysterious world; unlike some of the other worlds he had been too, it had been undergoing some sort of reconstruction that had happened to the castle town. He had meet three young women in the town, but none of them had been able to shed any light on the subject of what was going on, before they went their seperate ways. Perhaps there was a war here, or some kind of powerful presence(s) had passed through here and damaged the town, but whatever unfortunate history that had befallen the town was now buried in the past. The darkness had left the suburban area, and had taken residence inside the castle in the center of town itself, so while it seemed the residents had that under control the legendary warrior known as Onion Knight set his sights on a different dark presence instead... the dark castle that lay beyond the chasm of azure blue.
Strangely enough, there was a rumor that there was a powerful witch that used darkness there, despite what they discovered about the castle.
After encountering some other heroes that were with the Light... one familiar, one a friendly stranger, and even one from the Restoration Committee of Radiant Garden himself, the four of them decided to band together to check out the castle and assist the people of Radiant Garden in a different way, setting out through the Castle Gates and across the Dark Depths to the shadowy fortress known as the Villain's Vale.
Only when they got there... they were met with no resistance, for the place was completely deserted.
The young man known as Luneth suspected a trap, much like one he would have thought of himself, but as time went on it seemed the castle had been completely abandoned by the dark enchantress. It seemed like he had lead the others to a dead-end and all for nothing, until he discovered a mysterious white door in one of the towers which seemed magical in origin, because it stood upright by itself off from the center of the room and didn't seem to lead anywhere.
But, it had... and the world beyond was unlike anything that the Onion Knight had ever seen before.
The world was like reading from a book or scripture, much like the magical children's storybook he had recently saved after visiting from the way everything seemed rounded and simplistic in the illustrations, but there was no color to enlighten the imagination. Everything, from the earth to the sky and beyond as far as the human eye could see was in faded black and white. And much to his shock, even his own body had undergone a change to fit in this world without any use of magic, or perhaps the the change had come from the magical doorway itself.
He was back in his earlier, newer version of his Onion equipment like the day he had found it, all brand new and shiny, and with not as much altered detail he had added to it. Even more to his shock, as he looked in the reflection of the blacklit river nearby to examine himself, his eyes had lost their white and his humanoid appearence had become shorter and more doll-like... and his spindly blonde hair had returned back to it's grey-banged state. The change of his appearence from grey to blonde hair had been a secret he had kept with him, that he had told no-one, but the way he appeared now at all times had made him appear like he had been when he was younger traveling his world to find the crystals... like when he had been a child.
What was this place of contrasting black and white?
Not only that, but the sound in this world traveled differently too... the noise everything created, including his own voice, came out slightly muffled and less sharp than it once had. It had to be his hearing as a side-effect... what else could it be? But he had no time to worry about that, so long as he could hear sound coming to his senses, it was time to explore this world and find out more. The others seemed to hang back by the river, while he went to explore the nearby areas this world had to offer, and it appeared the darkness had left this strange land untouched.
It was here at the present moment where he was at, returning from his careful surveying to reunite with his friends, new and old.
For he had found another twin door like the one they had come in from, nearby a large ball of light that the residents wandering aimlessly nearby told him was the 'Cornerstone of Light' or whatever that was. If that was true, that meant this object was of the Light and as most likely good... but Light alwayscasted a shadow. Wherever there was unprotected light, the shadows would be soon to follow, so they had to secure this world before someone exploited it for their own gain. Having opened the door he had come across and quickly closing it when he saw the immense darkness on the other side, not knowing where it lead to, he knew he had to inform the others that he had found the entry point of the darkness.
A great darkness, filled with many hundreds and thousands of hungry, amber eyes.
His tall, armored friend would demand a course of action would be taken, of course. To eradicate the Light, but Luneth's mind was telling him they should run, and re-think the situation until they knew what they were up against. He wondered if the bard that had been traveling with them, despite his bravery to do so, would flee in panic at the sound of such an idea of charging into an unknown darkness. And Luneth had to agree with him, at least on the tactically retreating part, as it could be these Heartless characters that he had heard rumors about. At least they had with them the pilot from the Restoration Committee, who had been here on this world longer than their short arrival, to fill them in on some of the gaps in this strange and nostalgic fairytale at least. He rounded the corner to where he had seen them last, eager to share the news and start planning out what was best to do next, and the yong Keeper of the Light of Courage took in a deep breath to calm his uncertainty he was feeling.
"Hey guys, you'll never guess wh-"
The casting of magic filled his ears before he saw the dark presence that had appeared behind the man in blue armor, and the sound of chaos filled the air, Luneth's dark, whiteless eyes widening.
The man Luneth spotted spellcasting at the horned warrior was just as short and disproportionate as he was in stature, but his appearance and his eerie face was one he would never forget, and the young Onion Knight thrust out his hand to summon his Onion Sword in a flash of brilliant white light. The mage had been the bane of their journey ever since he and his friends had been blessed by the Crystal of Wind, and sent out to restore the other three crystals in his world, all having been drained of their power because of this man's ambition. The true evil that had been behind his actions, the Cloud of Darkness that was his ultimate nemesis, would not have been summoned if it were not for the greed stemmed from the man's selfish ambitions to restore what had been lost at the expense of the people he had made suffer. Everything that happened, either direct or indirect, that had been evil had been put into motion by his hand. Luneth watched in horror as the dark mage cast Blizzaga at his fellow Warrior of Light, and his name expelled from his lips in a infuriated yell, the word filled with all the tone and emotion of disdain and loathing at attacking his friend.
"Xande!"
It appeared Darkness... no, evil... had already found it's way into the world to retaliate against their shining presence.
The horned warrior, Luneth already knew, was more than capable of handling himself. It appeared Xande had brought another mage with him, for there was a strange, old man he had not seen before attacking the bard. Furrowing his eyebrows, Onion Knight exhaled the breath he had been holding, and immediately charged in to assist his friend who was more suited to fight in the back lines. He was speedy, one of the quickest of the Light Warriors, but he wasn't sure he could get to the bard in time to protect him from the magical barrage. Instead he nimbly approached the elderly man that was attempting to send the bard into ruination, running and moving from side to side at such a speed it would be hard for anyone aiming a spell at him to land a hit, and focused his attention on the ancient-looking spellcaster Xande had brought with him. With a sudden cast quicker than the eye could catch once he was in range of his target, he was sent flying backwards with his small frame, from the intense blast of Firaga which arced through the distance between them and would soon explode on contact in a hot, fiery blaze of flame at either man or ground that it hit. Hopefully, it would not only stop the three orbs of strange non-elemental energy aimed for the musician, but land a blow on his antagonist as well.
"Baptism? At his age?"
He flipped over and landed on his behind, quickly pushing himself back up onto his feet again, breathing hard as he kept his wits about him.
"Not while we're still here! We'll stop every last one of you! Hope you like yours toasted."
There was always the hope that the bard's music would work on someone, even if it hadn't beeen his assailant, then at least on Xande or any other villains that entered the fray. Somehow Luneth was too smart for his own good to suspect Xande would not make the same mistake he did last time of being outnumbered by a party, and he was correct as he felt other strong presences yet to appear. One of them was reasonably strong, but the other... it was frightfully stronger than he could ever imagine... but power wasn't everything when it came to winning. It was already too late to trick the attackers not to engage them... his warrior friend and Xande would mostly likely hear none of it anyway... but they weren't going to see their last in this alien landscape of monochrome while the Onion Knight had his sharp wits about in his mind. They had simply come to explore and had inadvertently found this place that was of importance to the wielders of the malicious darkness, and he wasn't about to let them win simply because they would not let them leave alive. They could not abandon the animal-like humanoid creatures that inhabited this world, and the peace they had attained with the Cornerstone of Light, his friends and his heart gave him the bravery to fight on.
He raced on back into the fray while keeping aware of how he could assist the other sword-wielder of Light, keeping an eye out for the next wielder of darkness who carried an air of discord and hostile intent which could attack him, his own knightly ambitions pulling him forwards to guard his mistral friend.
Timeless River Onion Knight's Battle theme: Desire For All That Is Lost.
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Post by mozenrath on Apr 12, 2010 18:54:21 GMT -5
The Alluring Air was just a parlor trick to Mozenrath. It was probably rather distracting to the lesser being. This meant the warlock couldn't use his mindless Mamlocks to attack anyone. They would be too confused to function. It seemed Mozenrath would have to wait for a nice breeze to move the stagnant air.
This was a simple battle for worlds and it seemed the Dark needed a helping hand. So, why not help? There wasn't a reason so Mozenrath decided to help. All he had learned was collected by Xerxes, his pet eel. Currently, his pet was off investigating the layout of the world they were in. Mozenrath was particularly interested in how it had made him lack any color.
That's when he noticed a small group of people already battling and it seemed the older man was about to get hit by a fireball. It was time to take action. With a wave of Mozenrath's hand, he summoned a handful of Mamlocks to block the fire attack. The moment the firaga made contact with Mozenrath's minions, they fell apart and faded back into the ground.
Within an instant, he teleported himself next to Dysley. "Well, it seems you needed the help. You truly have the potential to win this battle. Maybe I can assist you and your... friends." Mozenrath glanced up toward Xande. "Call me Mozenrath."
At this, Mozenrath decided to target Luneth. So far, all the Light beings seemed more then capable of fighting, but the only one that had really caught his eye was Luneth. "Let's make this worth my while. I'm ready for an interesting fight." With a smirk, Mozenrath shifted a fired off a Magical Blast from his gauntlet to attack Edward. Simply, Mozenrath fired a ball of energy that would shove him back, possibly knock the instrument from Edward's hands. The bard was the cause of that melody that rendered Mozenrath's Mamlocks to nothing more then flesh barriers. "Try that on for size! Hah!"
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Post by cid on Apr 15, 2010 9:24:37 GMT -5
There was no better feeling then to have the air rushing through your hair at a high speed, just as if you stuck your head out of a moving train, flew your Gummi Ship with the cockpit glass down or even stood upon the Outer Deck of the Shera as she soared through the skies. This was exactly the feeling the Captain of the Shera was experiencing right now, watching with an amused smirk as the ground below him was getting closer and closer with each passing second. Though the spear wielding man didn't have wings, nor was his infamous airship flying over head, he was in fact a Dragoon and was capable of jumping to magnificent heights, better then practically every other user of the Light there was. This is exactly what he had done, having been standing back for the beginning of the battle to see who else of the Light would assist himself against the powerful foes of Darkness.
The old man upon the hill had mumbles something and had then quickly fired off three bright looking spells off towards the instrument wielding lad behind the tree, shortly followed by another energy-looking spell cast from the younger chap who had mysterious appeared beside the elder. Falling for a couple more seconds, Cid as he was known, flipped his body forward as he completed a front flip, landing rather gracefully upon his feet with a thud a short distance ahead of the tree the Bard was hiding behind. Quickly bouncing back up to his feet, the scruffy-haired Dragoon span his body around as he swung his long spear around with him, using it to block and destroy the three Ruin spells cast by the old man. Pausing and twisting his body back in the opposite direction, Cid's used his spear as a make-shift baseball bat, smacking the bladed end into younger man's spell, attempting to deflect it back towards the caster.
His brown, now gray leather boots sunk into the matching-coloured grass as he slowed his rotation down until he came to a halt. Casting his infamous smirk off towards the Bard, Cid just nodded his head and raised his right hand, clenching a fist but sticking him thumb up into the air.
"Yer okay, son?"
Cid asked as he turned back to face the battlefield, his eyes quickly flicking around to take in who and what was going on. Looked like there was the four of them so far. Two Knight-looking fighters, one small heading for the older spell caster and one taller with a horned helm who seemed to be the target of the strange... well... it was hard to describe really. However, while the two Knights both wore adequate fighting attire, Cid and the Bard behind him appeared to have more casual clothing on. This made Cid smirk again, giving the Darkness users a chance to learn how not to judge a book by it's cover.
Cid glanced over his shoulder towards the Bard again quickly and just grinned at him.
"There ain't no runnin' from this fight son. Time too show us yer courage and prove yerself as a Hero!"
The Captain of the Shera said as he turned back to face the enemies. With that, he started to run in the direction of the older man and his younger friend upon the hill. The little Knight was heading that way and it appeared to quickly turn into a two-on-one fight. Not for long though. Whilst running, span his spear around and watched as a bright light escaped from the pommel, a small green-now-gray orb lighting up brightly as the Pilot cast Haste upon himself from the small materia orb. A wave of energy shot over the Captain before vanishing, his whole figure afterward shining with a dull white aura. In that instant, Cid's speed increased dramatically and he raced forwards up the hill straight towards Mozenrath. When in melee range, Cid grasped his spear with both hands at either end, and use his increased speed to add to his strength to try and smack the middle of his weapon across Mozenrath's chest in an attempt to shove him off and down the hill away from Luneth and the old man.
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Post by mrx on Apr 17, 2010 13:06:48 GMT -5
Xehanort never had true allies to count on. He never had close friends or even friendly acquaintances. All the people he has ever worked on were either controlled by him or had tried to control him. There was nothing approaching partnership for the old master, only convenience. Even his Apprentice was nothing more than a tool to get the job done and the boy knew it. He accepted his role in the greater schemes and had the initiative to push forward when he saw the opportunity. So unlike the pawns he regularly wielded, poor fools with as much intelligence as the average trout.
The door in the abandoned castle had been a curious thing. Powerful magicks bound it to its place, a portal towards another realm. However it was not like the Corridors of Darkness he and those who use darkness frequent. No, the white door was something else, something arcane and unknowable. Xehanort could spend years deciphering the unique functions of the door and not come close to the true nature of what birthed this door or where it came from. It had the power to transcend space and time, able to access worlds that mundane means would never be able to see. It was an anomaly in the widest sense that there was no explanation as to how and why it appeared.
But that wasn’t what interested Xehanort. The mechanics of time travel was not in his sphere of interest. It was nothing more than a cheap parlor trick, too gimmicky and fraught with complications. But even some form of usefulness can be eked out of such a trick. To just enter the past had the risk of irrevocably changing the future for better or worse. Step on too many butterflies and the world could just end.
Heroes had no time to think about the consequences. Instead, they rush into the action, flailing their arms in effort, trying to accomplish something yet never pausing to think what that something is. They serve their lives blind to the greater picture, their actions always in service of their own agenda. They hide behind pretensions of purity as an excuse to do whatever pleases them. They lambast him for flaunting his use of darkness when they were the ones hiding their own perversions and hypocrisies. At least Xehanort was honest about his intentions. At least Xehanort never tried to cover up his own misuses, his own mistakes. Xehanort knew in his heart that the heroes who prostrate themselves for some vague idea of justice and light were only fools too weak to face their own destiny. Only a few were worthy of his respect and only grudgingly at best. The rest were either incompetent or just pawns for him to control.
The world behind the door was both familiar and yet utterly alien. Color was completely bleached from the landscape, rendering everything into a murky grey hue, even he. While fundamentally unchanged in appearance, Xehanort couldn’t help but be fascinated at how the past warps everything, even strangers from the future, forcing them to conform to the reality of the world. Inspecting the world, Xehanort found it populated by strange, anthropomorphic animals much like the ones who lived in that carnival of gaudiness and excess that was Disney Town. So, this was the castle’s past, before there was even a castle and all these sad creatures had to look at for comfort was their Cornerstone. Disney Castle had no strategic value for Xehanort. He was content to let the playthings of darkness use it to lord over those who would bother to take notice. His presence here in this warped past was merely precaution. Already, when he found the door, it was open meaning people have come here for a purpose. Whether their persuasion was of light or dark did not matter to him. What mattered to him was the threat of its use destabilizing his plans once again. The mouse king had proven himself a more than worthy irritant. Xehanort did not need more to join him.
Xehanort followed the course of a winding grey river, climbing a hill in a leisurely place. His demeanor, once relaxed, tensed when he heard the sounds of talking and water splashing coming from beyond the hill. Quickening his pace, Xehanort found himself at the top of the hill. His amber eyes peered down below and watched a most unusual scene.
Two people, or rather caricatures of people, stood on one side of the river. One of them, a tall knight, was gazing intently at the other bank, probably deliberating whether traversing the river was a good idea or not. His companion, certainly far smaller in stature and not nearly as built, was bent down, touching and inspecting the water curiously. Even from a glance, Xehanort could see that these two were too alien to belong to this world. Certainly they were the ones who had entered the door back at Radiant Garden. His suspicions were confirmed when a behemoth of a man with skin as dark as ebony appeared on the other side of the river and shot a Blizzaga spell at the knight’s most precious parts. A rather sadistic choice but Xehanort did not begrudge the man for choosing a potent weak spot.
Just like that, everything else exploded into action. The smaller man with the knight ran the moment the black man appeared, fear forcing his pace to be faster. A coward in the battlefield? How pitiful. The man….no, boy, took out a lute and began playing feverishly, sweat dancing from his brow. Xehanort felt his head ache as the shrill music pounded into his skull. Well, it looks like the bard has some tricks up his sleeves. Apparently, others agreed as another man, this time robed in flowing white and wielding a long, elegant staff, appeared in the vicinity. With a flourish, the man summoned three pulsing white orbs and directed it at the bard, still playing to take notice of the events breaking out around him. Then, another warrior, a pint-sized version of the tall knight whose impotence was imminent, came to the bard’s aid, shooting an overwhelming ball of fire at the robed man. The fire ball was intercepted by another new participant, a man robed in subdued colors but no less flamboyant than the one who he just aided. With a wave, he summoned a group of dark creatures, intercepting the fireball with their deaths as their summoner retaliated against the youth with a blast of magic. Suddenly, a blur shot out from a tree and an old but sprightly man wielding a spear appeared. With his weapon, the man intercepted not only the white-robed man’s white spells but also his savior’s magical blast. Not even pausing, the aged man cast a spell on himself and ran up to the black-robed man with ungodly speed and attempted to attack him with the spear.
What a crew.
Xehanort expected a small incursion, not a small war. It seemed like no fewer than eight individual parties, himself included, had stumbled upon the door and proceeded to make their stake upon this world. While the so-called heroes were clearly familiar with each other, their opponents have no clue as to who each one was and why they were here beyond the obvious. Xehanort had no need to make them nominal allies or bosom friends but it was clear that without some form of cooperation, the Light will claim this past, creating ripples in the future that Xehanort will not intend to happen. That meant eliminating these sad, strange people with their preconceptions of heroism. That was certainly an easy task and Xehanort intended to achieve it with the minimum of fuss.
Still trying to block the shrill music the bard was playing, Xehanort stepped forward and reappeared just in front of the hiding boy, his Keyblade pointed to the boy’s chin. “Silence,” Xehanort whispered before he swung his Keyblade in an arc, aiming at the bard’s lute, silencing him and any usefulness he might have had. Behind him, four Neoshadows dragged themselves out of inky pools of darkness that had sprung up from the ground, their beady eyes eyeing the strange scene with disinterest. One of them burrowed their way back into the ground. Two sprang into the air towards the boy knight and his inhumanly fast Dragoon friend, arms outstretched ready to pin them down. The last one ambled towards the tall, horned knight and slashed with its claws, sensing the man’s heart feeding its hunger.
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Post by warrior on Apr 22, 2010 9:45:11 GMT -5
The minute the dark-skinned, deformed figure appeared in his vision, the Warrior knew they were in for an ambush. His reflexes couldn't coordinate with his trained eyes, armor slowing every step he took and every move he made. As the cruel spear of ice barreled towards him, the Warrior knew he had to make a decision- attempt to avoid the attack entirely and most likely fail... or move slightly and brace himself.
He'd go for the smarter option, the Warrior never even flinching when the Blizzaga lodged itself into his left leg- the Warrior was fortunate that his left side was the safest, because there was no doubt this was a painful wound that the villains would attempt to exploit later in the battle. He had a small window of opportunity now that the damage had been done- a chance to catch his foe off-guard. The faster he could dispose of this enigmatic sorcerer, the better... because it appeared his allies would need all of the help they could get.
It was his duty to dispatch at least one of these foes, so his presence in this fight wasn't senseless- really, considering the bard's lack of fighting power, the Warrior would be much more satisfied if he could dispose of two. It was time to even the odds- to counter this sudden attack with unlimited power.
The transformation was instantaneous as the Warrior's Class Change[/b] initiated, the great blast of heated light surrounding him thawing the Blizzaga and changing the Warrior's appearance into something much darker and demonic. This world made his armor appear rather grey and blank- but now, the dark blue of his armor translated into a much more eerie black, the monstrous faces and features etched onto his armor much more heavily emphasized. He had a few seconds- a few precious seconds to launch his attack before this 'Xande' could move. There was an eerie silence as the Warrior ripped his sword across the earth, no battle cry accompanying the Shining Wave[/color] as it tore through everything in its path, homing in on Xande with alarming speed, three swords of pure light ready to follow up the attack if it hit.
The Warrior took this opportunity to examine his other foes, noting that they all appeared to be sorcerers of some sort. Opportunistic vultures... of course they would go after the bard first... such cowardice disgusted the Warrior. The elderly man and the other sorcerer did not unnerve him... but their fourth opponent did. Something about his aura- some despicable air about him- urged the Warrior to confront such a pervasive agent of darkness.
He would have abandoned his assault immediately to aid the other three heroes, but the Warrior knew the young Onion Knight well enough to know that he could handle the two sorcerers who were after the bard- ...the man who seemed to emanate wickedness and evil, however, concerned him.
The Warrior would have no chance of actively pursuing his foes... he would have to lure them instead. Spellcasters stood no chance against the blessed light and its ability to tear their spells apart, but these dark figures didn't appear foolish. They wouldn't approach an armored knight with a shield and blade- no, they would try to wear him down from a distance, and if the Warrior was to deliver a finishing blow, it was critical that he be within striking distance.
"...Is this despicable conduct what you all follow in battle? I dare you all- fight those who will gladly spill your blood."
He was condescending, disappointed, taunting his foes, even. The Warrior hoped to goad at least one of these villains into focusing on him- he would gladly face two unknown foes alone if it meant his three allies would have an opportunity to coordinate a strike. One beast immediately took the bait, it appeared- the man that concerned the Warrior the most had sent out a lithe, bizarre creature, yellow eyes intensely glowing with the intent to kill. The creature approached quickly, offering the Warrior no choice but to swiftly lift his shield and listen to the screech of claws against metal. He would have to dispose of this nuisance later in the fight...
He would not charge at his prey- not yet. The empowered Warrior- now a Knight- would wait for his prey to come to him. If they didn't...?
He had other options- if they would not come to his blade, he would send blades at them. His only concern was the bard- if silenced, there was no doubt he would become more of a liability than the asset. He had doubted the dragoon's prowess at first, but seeing him attack so swiftly challenged the Warrior to change his thoughts about the power of his allies.
This battle had only just begun- he wouldn't give in so quickly. He would never give in as long as the light continued to shine. He had defeated Chaos- defeated the embodiment of discord and destruction.
Who were these enigmatic beings in comparison?
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Post by xande on Apr 25, 2010 22:45:08 GMT -5
It was amazing how much momentum one could gain from a head-start of a mere few seconds. That was all the time he had been granted, before the opposing party became aware of his presence. The sorcerer had practically made eye contact with his prey before the spell was completed. On one hand, the deathblow was mostly staved off. What should have hit a vital point on the human body instead struck a much less necessary limb, and with little in the way of crippling force either. But on the other hand, the first wound of battle had been struck. With only a scarce few seconds, he was one step closer towards presenting the Light with their first corpse.
All about him Xande could feel the presences of others. Not just the Light, but his own kindred as they arrived one-by-one. He did not pay a great deal of attention to them just yet though, for one of the Light’s warriors had drawn his gaze. As the younger man flew off at the start of battle, a smaller figure made itself known to him. That hair, that voice...it could be none other than the boy who had put a stop to his goal of immortality! Xande’s great fist produced a cracking noise as its grip tightened down on his stave. The smile remained, but now his jaws clenched against one another and partially twisted it into an expression of sheer maniacal rage. “We meet again, boy. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your past transgressions!” He would not have a chance to act upon his emotions though, as at that moment a strange melody filled his ears. A quick tune, its chaotic notes danced around both the hills and his head. Faster and faster it played, until noise dominated all else.
The sorcerer clutched his head, trying to make sense of his thoughts. Past, present, expression, anger, jealousy, sorrow, hopelessness, and everything under the sun danced a maddening jig to the rhythm of the wild chords. What was this? How could mere music scramble his thoughts so? A pained roar escaped Xande as he attempted to dispel the song’s affliction by sheer force of will. Sights, sounds, and smells all threatened to be absorbed into the maelstrom that was presently his mind, with only his undivided effort keeping them anchored in place. His primal yell grew progressively louder as he fit the loose pieces back into place. The song continued, but Xande was becoming aware of his surroundings again. He could sense the abundance of magic in use, could feel darkness beyond intense somewhere near, could hear the cries of battle accompanied by the tune that had rendered him handicapped, and could see....
The columns of light struck him in succession, each time creating a larger field of debris around him. Unprotected, he could only shield his body with his forearms as he was ravaged by blast after blast of searing light. When the attacks finally stopped coming he fell to one knee, staggered by the sudden assault. But clearly the horned knight was not done yet. Above him hovered three luminous swords, their points poised at Xande in a manner that made their intent obvious. His face twisted in anger, he extended his staff with a grunt and cast a Thundaga in opposition. The barrage of bolts twisted through the air, acting as messengers of Xande’s fury. Their intent was twofold; to counter the coming swords of light and then, with what was left of the attack, to strike down the now less-mobile warrior. He noticed too late that a Heartless had joined the attack, and his spell would likely destroy it, but such creatures were dime-a-dozen anyway; it would likely do little to turn the tides of battle. |
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Post by youspoonybard on Apr 30, 2010 7:17:53 GMT -5
If that anguished roar the fiend gave was any indication, it seemed like Edward's Bardsong was working just fine; so beset by the spell of the music, the man could not brace for the brave Warrior's attacks, and though the Warrior had obviously been wounded (to what extent, Edward couldn't tell), the advantage was theirs. If the dark-skinned sorcerer were this vulnerable to the power of the strings, certainly Edward would be able to keep him properly hindered until his allies minced their foe!
Of course, Edward's fortune on the battlefield had never, ever stayed positive for too long. Bad luck manifested in the form of an age-wizened voice, one that commanded both authoritative and arcane power, and by the time the bard turned to face the new challenger it was too late; three blazing white spheres flew towards him in a spell he did not recognize nor have time to avoid, and being so caught off-guard, he could not even think to bolster himself for the incoming pain. Back against the tree, it was all he could do to open his mouth in a terrified scream--
--when suddenly fire erupted in an earth-shaking blast right before him, sending a wave of heat against Edward that knocked him right off his feet; he thought too late to raise an arm to protect his face, but the burning sensation wasn't bad enough to inflict any damage more than a lingering discomfort, so evidently he had somehow been saved. Blinking away the mist that the heat brought to his eyes, he took in the much-changed battlefield with a stunned look, staring dazedly at the two other sorcerers that had joined in the fray and noting the child-knight's personal skirmish with the younger one.
"Yer okay, son?"
With his heart still pounding in his ears, it took a stupidly long time for Edward to acknowledge the dragoon right in front of him, let alone the man's question, and when he did figure out that he had been asked a question the only response Edward could make was a pathetic noise like that of a dying pig. It took another moment for him to shake off the terror, adrenaline rendering his limbs cold and almost numb, and he was shaking too much to stand right away, only able to get to one knee; but thank the gods it wasn't as bad as it could have been -- had the spell hit, he could very well be dead for all he knew. The only damage done was a good scare and an uncomfortably warm dampness that meant--wait--aw man.
"There ain't no runnin' from this fight son. Time to show us yer courage and prove yerself as a Hero!"
Right, hero, he could do that. Edward could be the hero. Edward Chris von Muir, He Who Bravely Runs Away, with the fighting prowess of a newborn lamb and zero continence in the face of danger, could still prove himself a hero -- there was hope for him yet! No, really! He could -- if he could just get to his feet -- and he did, wobbly as a child taking its first steps, but the dragoon and the young knight stood between him and the sorcerers' destructive spells; his allies were there to support him, so he had to do his best and support them as well. Support was what he was good at. Yes, Edward could be the hero!
And all of that gathered courage was abruptly shattered when another sorcerer (or at least, that's what Edward presumed him to be) came out of bloody nowhere with some kind of sword aimed right at his throat. Panic served to move him this time instead of freezing him in place, but as well as his reaction time being far too slow to avoid a direct hit, he did all the wrong things; he should have done what the Warrior had done, staying in place and taking the hit where it would have hurt the least -- that is, shielding himself with his lute and giving up an easily-replaced instrument in favor of staying in one piece -- but Edward just had to save his precious lute. Grasp tightening around its neck and strings, the bard lifted his instrument out of harm's way, exposing his armorless torso to the arc of the blade in what could only be described as the stupidest decision ever; searing pain flared across his chest as the teeth of the blade bit into him, tearing through the thin fabric of his tunic like it was paper, and in a matter of seconds the front of the sand-gold garment turned slick with red.
The shrill cry he gave upon being struck seemed to indicate a far worse blow than what had been struck, fear amplifying his voice even more than the pain, and for a couple of seconds he could only sag against the tree for support; despite being so blinded by panic, however, he was at least smart enough to determine that worse pain would come if he just stood there like an idiot, so he turned away and -- no, he did not think for a moment that turning his back to so many enemies was a bad idea in the slightest -- began to run. And he would continue to run as fast as his feet could carry him, past the inky-black demons that one of the sorcerers had summoned, past the booming bolts of magic that exploded from the staff of the dark-skinned man that engaged the Warrior, until he hit the bank of the river and sank down against the muddy ridge of it; he wasn't entirely hidden, nor could he see the entirety of the battle from where he was, and if the swordsman-mage or some other were to give chase...
Gods, he was in trouble. The gash was bad -- really bad -- that even if he could use a salve right now (and he, out of sorts and trembling, could not have the dexterity to retrieve a potion from his inventory), it wouldn't be enough to heal it completely. He needed a cleric. The agony of the wound that split his chest was nigh-unbearable, and if he did not heal it soon, he'd -- but he -- but -- no, he could not abandon his allies. They had not abandoned him, would not abandon him, and he would never forgive himself if he did so to them; but what could he do? What use was he here, especially injured? A coward like him...
Play something.[/color] His song had saved his friends before. Play anything,[/color] and he clutched the lute tight, feeling that two of the higher strings had been broken somehow, but a strum told him the rest were all right, if a little out of tune. No matter -- not every piece of music required the highest notes, and what he had in mind demanded more of the octave's lower reaches; silence, the blade-wielder said, and all at once the answer was clear: nearly every foe that opposed them now were sorcerers, magic-casters, and if he could rob them of their magic they would be just as helpless as he without a lute.
Suddenly, the gaping wound didn't seem so bad after all.
Silent Verse[/color] began with a slow, mournful note left to ring out amongst the battlecries, and melted on into a melody that filled the air with an oppressing weight. Calloused fingers pressed hard against the strings, left hand strumming hard to make the sound heard over the cacophony of war, and every chord was strained with melancholy and anguish; let them be silenced,[/color] he prayed to nothing in particular, and sang the lyrics the dirge in his head. Let them all be silenced.
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Post by dysley on May 2, 2010 10:33:49 GMT -5
If one thing annoyed the Primarch the most, it was having a little runt stop him. Stepping out of the pile of the dead corpses that had just possibly saved him, Dysley looked around and saw that the wizard that had saved him was in trouble. With a quick flick of the hand he casted Enchanted Veil, protecting the feminine man from certain harm. After dealing with that headache, Dysley scanned the rest of the field, watching as almost each person was using some sort of magic
"Pathetic humans, toiling in arts they could not possibly understand.."
Dysley grabbed his staff and lifted it up in the air, calling his Owl, Minerva. In a flash of light, Minerva made contact with the staff. When the light subsided, Dysley was gone, but now stood his true form, Barthandelus. He gazed into the river to see how he looked. To his dismay, he looked like a giant toaster with 4 singing heads. with a shake of his main head he returned his gaze back at the battle field.
He realized petty magic wasn't going enough, seeing as how everyone was using upgraded magic. With a hoist of his back, Barthandelus cast Magical Amplifier and surged with power. Knowing pathetic second rate magic wouldn't be enough, he stretched up wards and casted Magical Amplifier again. As he resumed his original position he watched as two strange, black creatures drew near his enemies. although he had yet to come across such creatures, their features obviously gave away their alignment. They seemed like mere drones that could come in thousands if need be, so he paid little attention if he should accidentally kill one
Just then Barthandelus heard this obnoxious noise coming from where the Bard was. Turning his head he saw the now injured man playing his lute. The Bard looked so pathetic, it'd be a sin not to end his life. With a laugh, Barthandelus focused on him and tried to cast a few spells...but nothing. The noise from that cursed lute was preventing him from using his magic!
"Such an annoying pest. That lute must be silenced for good[/color]" he thought. He only had a few non-magical techniques, but they would have to do. He looked straight at the Bard and laughed coldly, there was no way this could be blocked with a spell now that all magic had seemingly been stopped."You struggle in vein!" He planted his hands into the ground and opened his face up. He couldn't help but think of all the ways that lute could disintegrate, as he shot a Thanatosian Laughter to wards the bard, and all of his pathetic friends.
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Post by Larxene on May 10, 2010 11:43:24 GMT -5
The decision has been reached that the Raid will not be counted as a Raid. After complaints from both sides of the spectrum, Seifer and I have come to the decision that the Raid is now neutral. It seemed like the most fair way to end the bickering.
Timeless River remains Neutral
If you have any other complaints about this decision, please forward them to Vincent. |
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