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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 1 2011, 11:04:05 PM (865 Views) | |
| Nova | Jun 1 2011, 11:04:05 PM Post #1 |
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“Let's see. Slay a dragon; save a princess; rout some bandits . . . Just more of the same. Nothing original.” Gilliam slammed the pack of cards down on the wooden table before him and thrust the pack forward. He was seated at a round table at the center of The Lounge with six or seven other men. Judging by his placement, one might take him as in a position of respect and authority among his friends. Certainly by looks he was the most impressive. Calm and confident, he was also tall and broad-shouldered, with short-cut dark-yellow hair, a bulky green cloak and cape, and a black eyepatch over his right eye. His voice was low and deep. “We ain't had a good show in months now, Gill. Jim's the only one what's been in a war the past year, ain't that right, Jim?” “Yeah, and it wasn't something to be bragging about, either. Piddly affair. My mother probably had more epic battles with dust mites back home than I did with those Ramodians.” “Speaking of wars, my fellows, I hear that Valeri will be returning soon with another successful conquest under her belt. Province of Dengran, this time.” “Valeri! Hoo boy, that's one dangerous woman there! I hear tell she was made commanding general the first time she took a war contract, and that she killed a soldier what confessed his love to her on the spot, even though the war was over when he done it. Said somethin' like, 'love is weakness for a soldier.' Cold fish. Cold fish.” “Yes: as cold as they get.” “Nobody colder!” “Tch,” said Gilliam, tapping the deck of cards with his knuckles. “Don't like Valeri, do ya, Gill?” He shook his head. “I don't care for her. But I care for such talk even less.” “Don't mind them, Gill,” said Jim. “They're just making gossip like usual.” “Well, I suppose there's nothing better to do around here anyway, except train. Any of you lot want to spar?” Gilliam's question went unanswered, however, for the front doors burst open then, and a short man with a lopsided white hat walked in, whistling a low tune. The Lounge could hold exactly 98 people, including the marble seats facing the bar, and it usually held maximum capacity—and every single one of those 98 people turned to look at the doors when this man came in. A swarm of silent stares met the newcomer. Someone at Gill's table spoke up first: “Temio! Alright! I know what this means. Whatcha got for us?” The man at the front turned his cap as if to adjust it, though it remained lopsided, and said: “Special request.” “Awesome. Who's it for?” “It's for Sir Gilliam,” said Temio. The words sparked a surge of cheers and shouts, and some men pounded on the tables. Temio then removed a small card from his pocket and laid it face-down on Gilliam's table. So doing, he bowed slightly and then proceeded out of The Lounge. The back of the card was black and brown, the colors split neatly across the diagonal. Gilliam smiled and slid it across the table to pick it up. Everyone in The Lounge was excited. All eyes fell upon Gilliam. “What's it say, Gill?” “Yeah, what's it say?” “Something exciting?” But the smile faded from large to faint to absent as he read the card over, for the text on the card read thus: SPECIAL REQUEST FOR: GILLIAM LASSONDE Classification: Secret Category: Rout Adjutant heroes: 10 Mission description: Your mission is to terminate the citizens of Vale, the summoner's city: population: 10,000. Weapons will not be provided. Time of departure: Tomorrow, 11 a.m., by buggy. Time limit: 1 week Reward: 10,000 medallias Special notes: Sharing of this information with those not affiliated with this mission will result in immediate failure and recall. There will be one driver, and only one horse. Gilliam looked over the card again and then quickly shoved it into his pocket. He rose, wordlessly, and, saying curtly "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he departed. |
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| mr_e_s | Jun 2 2011, 09:44:13 PM Post #2 |
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Shu "Destiny is a funny kind of thing." Definitely a cracked rib. "I've never really been a fan of it, myself." Whatever that bone was in his arm between the elbow and the wrist on his left side, that was definitely fractured, probably a gentle breeze from broken. "I always kind of figured we were all just floating around, dust in the wind, all that. Kansas made a pretty good point, at least, to me." He'd need severe medical attention. Was this world relying on magic for healing, or modern methods? Some combination of the two? New RPs were always so vague and tenuous. "But hey, here I am, and you wouldn't believe the shit I went through off camera to get here. And you know how I did it? I sure as hell don't." The looming figure of a burly warrior stood over him. Clearly unamused by all the talk from his fallen opponent. Shu had exactly zero clues as to who this guy was, apart from what he could deduce on his own. Probably a sellsword. There may have been a bounty or two since he started out. Maybe he was someone Shu had wronged directly. His memory for people was admittedly not the best. Probably not though. He wasn't angry. he was working, calmly eliminating Shu's means of offense and defense methodically, always careful for the knives and other tricks, ready for any suckerpunch that wasn't coming. He'd been trained never to lower his guard, even now his eyes were purpousefully searching the area for any compatriots on their way to rescue our loveable protagonist (for this post, at least). That's the part that gave him away. He knew more about Shu than he should. He was a Hero, sent here by someone's request, got a little card with a bunch of information on it. Probably been watching Shu for awhile, learning his habits, where he keeps his concealed weapons, everything. For a sneaky guy Shu had to admit he hadn't done a very good job noticing this big bastard tailing him around. "But hey, Hero." No reaction. Not that he expected one, it would have been a nice treat though. "You're not going to believe me, but I did very little of what you have me on the ground here for. I'm bleeding for fate." Even for a nameless thug, this guy was bland, he just started tying Shu up, ready for a fight that wasn't coming from the smaller man. "The shit thing about fate is, when it's your time to go it's your time to go. At least it's not all shit though, the very concept of predestination means it's all planned out in advance, and if it's not your day to die, you know your number ain't going to be up no matter what happens." Shu continued his little speech from the large man's shoulder. Apparently there was someplace he needed to be taken, just killing wasn't enough. Likeliest scenario, a town about 3 hours away on horseback, Shu had some past indiscretions there, was likely being taken to trial. "And today, my large mute friend, is not my day. I have no idea how, might be a swarm of bees, might be a rabid wolverine. Maybe the earth will open up and swallow you, but one way or another, this isn't going to go as intended. Fate tends not to be too accommodating to our plans. Just in case you haven't figured it out yet, my schtick here is predestination. Knowing ahead of time what my life holds for me. And right about now it holds something pretty lousy for you man. Sorry, it was nice knowing you, except not so much, you were kind of a dick." Shu tucked up his body as best as possible to avoid any potential runoff damage to the tragedy that was about to befall this unlucky son of a bitch. It was a art, posturing yourself defensively, yet also limply. Shu had a lot of practice at it. he could probably teach a class on it. Survival through positioning. The big guy that was carrying him, he took a look around for any potential ambush or anything, even cautiously scanned the road, looking for any hint of an ambush or a booby trap. There wasn't any. Actually nothing at all happened to him. Which was kind of depressing, Shu was increasingly less of a fan of this guy as they spent time together. "Okay, so maybe nothing was happening there, but damn it, something terrible will befall you, take my word for it." The rest of the trip into town was rather uneventful. It took about 8 hours, at a surprisingly brisk and constant pace from the big guy, whom Shu had taken to calling Brian. "Look Brian, all I'm saying is, you put me down, let me go on my merry way, nothing happens to you. I like you man, we have no beef as far as I'm concerned, and I really don't want you to die, or at least I'm perfectly fine with the prospect of you walking away from this. Shu always carried a satchel with him, Brian was doing that carrying now. Even though Shu could see it, he wouldn't be able to reach it, even if his arms weren't tied up around his sides. Brian had more width than Shu had reach. "You know, I've always had a soft spot for mutes. they never ruin the conversation with boring stories or sad tales of how their parents both died to some bad dude and they swore vengeance, or they're the last of their kind or in some assassin's guild who is now hunting them down because their morals wouldn't let them harm some kid or woman or whatever. Not you man, you're the real deal. I feel like we could be friends. I mean, I wouldn't want to be seen with you at a bar or something, you'd scare away the ladies, and I'm kind of a fan of the ladies, not so much for the conversation, but that other thing. You know what I'm talking about, right champ? Yeah i bet you d-" Thrown into another tree. God damn it took forever but he finally hit a nerve somewhere. Maybe it was in that last rant, maybe it'd been building up. It looked like Brian was ready to forgo his reqard and just end it here. Shu really wished he would have had the stones to just try and murder him 8 hours ago. Brian was opening his mouth, apparently deciding it wasn't worth it to maintain complete silence for whatever reason he'd done it before. Shu had been curious what kind of voice he'd had, but as he fell over dead, the mystery of the mute mercenary lived on. Beside Brian's corpse, in a very bloody little whole in the ground, a small stone lay, it'd have to have fallen from way to high to have been thrown to actually go through a man like that. Shu comfortably stood up, his ropes fallen at his side. After he'd been thrown into the tree, they caught an oddly sharp knot in the wood and opened themselves on the way down. Shu picked up his satchel, and examined the body for anything worthwhile. A small bit of cash, some odd little trinkets that had no discernible value, and a very expected card. Request for Hero Classification: Public Category: Track and Transport Adjutant Heroes: N/A Mission Description: Find a man named Shu, and bring him to Vale, the summoner's city to stand trial for 3 counts of murder and assorted other felonies. Weapons will not be provided Time of Departure: N/A Time Limit: 3 weeks Reward: 800 medallias Special notes: Responsible for the deaths of 2 heroes who've tried to collect on his bounties, treat with extreme caution. Last seen in the small community of Hancock, a 3 day trip north of Vale. Transportation will not be provided "Huh, you were taking me to Vale? I guess that makes sense. Probably had a ride set up here. Shame you didn't die after picking it up, I'd have at least had a faster trip back." Shu gave Brian a last look over, he looked serene, well he still looked pretty angry, but compared to the angry he was when he died he looked serene. Shu considered spitting on the body, calling him an asshole, and walking away. Instead, he checked out that rock. It was pretty hot, kind of black, well, past the blood. It was interesting, though. He wiped it off on Brian's shirt and put it in his satchel, clearly he was supposed to have it. He'd been walking down the road nearly thirty seconds this time before he turned around and ran back. He almost forgot to say it. "Divine intervention is a bitch, ain't it?" He felt much better about himself now. |
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| Nova | Jun 3 2011, 12:03:58 AM Post #3 |
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Two things bothered Gilliam as he went back to his second-floor adobe house and undressed. First was that he had been requested to do a rout mission. To be sure, Gilliam's physical strength was impressive, even among the heroes—the giant, two-handed swords that he usually took into combat would he swing with one hand, as though they were sticks. Yet Gilliam's true talent was in using that strength to deal quick and efficient blows in combat. The reason he wielded his swords with one hand was so that he could keep the other free to unleash tremendous bursts of magic and secure death. He was neither magician nor tank. His slow pace on the battlefield belied his quickness with a sword and the fast, powerful magic that he stored, awaiting a chance to deal the deathblow. He was most efficient, therefore, at fighting with single targets and was often sent on missions vs. hydras. Certainly he had killed a share of bandits during his career, but those had he killed in response to token requests.This mission required sustained effort for which there were surely better choices. Roxar de Rig, whom many in the settlement called Boxcar the Big, was twice Gilliam's size and could take a thousand arrows or more before feeling fatigued. The stocky but tough Goy had once survived a boulder avalanche with no more damage than a half-shaved mustache. Gilliam was average in endurance compared to these men. He stood naked above a man-sized wooden board, out of which many sharp knives protruded. He folded his arms over his chest and bent down low over the board until his knees straightened. As his face went red, his toes solely supported him against death by impalement, less than seconds and inches from him. The second thing that bothered Gilliam was the line: Adjutant heroes: 10. Mistakes might Brost (and Roc) have made in assignment, but this? The summoners of Vale were rumored to be tough. Gilliam had never faced one, but he had heard stories. Less summoners than necromancers—magicians who created Elementals, animations of inanimate matter, like mountains and trees—the Valite summoners were all women whose ability to give birth had transcended reproduction. It was said that the Valites sustained their population through breeding with the beasts that they created. An ugly image, to Gilliam's mind, but that did not lessen their toughness. Against even one Valite summoner, a hero might breathe heavily. Against ten, he might have to sweat. Against one hundred, he would have to plan and call on true effort. But against ten thousand? He supposed that since they were ten or eleven, each would have to face only one thousand. But then there were the Elementals, and God knew with what other defenses had Vale been strengthened. They were ten, but the Valites might be thirty thousand, considering all. Still, the reward was 10,000 medallias—easily a small fortune, and he would never refuse such an intense and exciting request, even if it were for 10 rather than 10,000. He lifted himself from before the board of knives. His face was red, and he was sweating; it had been at least two hours. He decided to rest until tomorrow. Morning came quickly, and he dressed and stuffed the special request card into his pocket before he left. He said goodbye to nobody but spent several hours training his swordplay and magic against training dummies in The Facility. When the time came, he headed toward the settlement's edge, beyond the semi-dome gates. Vast deserts stretched in all directions. A single carriage stood there in the sand, white and circular, and a single driver was at the front, along with a single horse. The horse was metal and mechanical, able to travel as fast as a helicopter. The driver was, of course, a hero—heroes who were adept at operating technology were always drafted for driving jobs. The other ten heroes had already arrived. Gilliam nodded his head at them. “Ladies. Gentlemen.” |
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| CATZ | Jun 3 2011, 12:29:04 AM Post #4 |
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oh u
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SPECIAL REQUEST FOR: JOHNSON NASH Classification: Secret Category: Rout Adjutant heroes: 10 Mission description: Your mission is to terminate the citizens of Vale, the summoner's city: population: 10,000. Weapons will not be provided. Time of departure: Tomorrow, 11 a.m., by buggy. Time limit: 1 week Reward: 8,376.62 froons Special notes: Sharing of this information with those not affiliated with this mission will result in immediate failure and recall. There will be one driver, and only one horse. The small card was delivered to Johnson's front door as he prepared for lunch. "Huh. Wonder how they're supposed to know if I share any of this information," he said to himself, already folding and tearing the card into miniscule fragments. He looked up from the card and stared back at the messenger, who for some reason, hadn't left yet. There could only be one reason for that..... was it really possible? Apparently it was, as the messenger had pulled out a second card and was now looking over the name written on it several times, as if there must be some sort of mistake. Two special requests for Johnson at the same time? It wasn't unheard of, although it was a rare thing to say the least. However, when the messenger finally decided that it wasn't a mistake, rather than extending the card to Johnson he motioned for the hero to move aside. "Really? You can't mean--" The messenger nodded, clearly just as shocked as Johnson was. Johnson turned and called behind him. "Mior, someone's here to see you!" he said. Johnson's small, eccentric roommate swept into the house's small front room and accepted the card, glancing at it for half a second before casually tossing it into the fireplace behind him. "Interesting," Mior said as the messenger left. "How do they propose to know whether or not I share information on this particular assignment?" "That's your question? You've been living here in Brost for what--fifteen, twenty years, in all that time this is the first special request you've gotten, and that's what you're wondering?" Johnson asked. "Make no mistake, that's not the only odd feature of the request. I'm also quite curious as to why they think I want to be paid in froons," Mior responded. "And you're not wondering why you're just now getting one of these?" "That much is obvious. I'm needed." ".....I see." "Indeed. See you at eleven tomorrow," Mior said, brushing past Johnson and out the door. Johnson stared quizzically as the small man moved quickly down the street and turned out of sight. "Something ain't right here," he said to himself, closing the door and going back to his lunch. Vale...... he'd been so distracted by the fact of Mior's request that it hadn't really hit him until now. His mission was to eradicate Vale, and he'd only have ten other heroes to help him out. And one of those was apparently going to be Mior. Suddenly Johnson found himself missing the good old days when all he had to do was defend an innocent nation from a vast invading army, or maybe help an oppressed population overthrow an evil insane tyrant. "Aw, hell." |
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| mr_e_s | Jun 5 2011, 07:14:29 PM Post #5 |
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Shu The day wound away, walking for hours back to his base camp. For all the saving it did for him, fate was still a demon bitch goddess. Never let things go easy. Always putting up trials and tribulations, never properly explaining itself. Like some kind of annoying teacher. Eager to push him through the class, but always bringing up pop quizzes to keep him on his toes. People didn't live like this. He hadn't even done all that much to warrant getting hunted down in the first place, just every once in a while someone tried to have him killed andthey wound up dead. Even if it was him that murdered those people,a nd there was relatively little proof that there was, they were self defense killings at best. He couldn't help it if his methodology was decidedly final, after all, there jsut wasn't a way around it. Still, it would be bothersome if he were to keep being dragged away by bounty hunters calling themselves heroes... It said on the card the reason he wasbeing taken in was the incident in Vale. He could probably straighten that one out, maybe. If not, what was the worst that could happen? They already tried to ooze his brain out through his eye sockets and that didn't take, so unless they'd been working on some new ultimate punishment form of death in the interim he'd probably be fine. He really hoped they hadn't invented some new form of of terrible murder for him since last time... |
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| CATZ | Jun 8 2011, 05:21:03 AM Post #6 |
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oh u
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The more he thought about it, the more this request struck Johnson as a strange one. Heroes were called to perform extraordinary feats on a daily basis, no doubt, but this? What could the city of Vale have done to draw such action against it? Subduing (not slaughtering) populations that were out of control, assassinating particularly dangerous individuals, these things were done by heroes, but total annihilation of an entire society wasn't an everyday thing for them. Especially not the annihilation of such a powerful and dangerous culture, and especially especially not with only ten guys, and especially especially especially not with himself and Mior as two of those guys. Taking on Vale might be a challenge for even the greatest ten of the heroes. Johnson was no slouch (he was a hero, after all), but nor was he among the top tiers of his colleagues, and as for Mior...... well, he was so aloof that Johnson actually knew little of his capabilities, but he figured there was probably a good reason that the enigmatic man had never gotten a special request until now. Nothing about this job added up. As he made his way out of town, Mior joined him. "Apprehensive about the task, I take it?" Mior asked. "That obvious, huh?" Johnson said. "Yes." "Well, it doesn't exactly sound like a cakewalk. I have to wonder why we're supposed to take out this whole city? Who's asking for this, and why?" "I imagine that the Valites are planning to blow up the world. Their religion calls for an apocalypse or some such. That's usually how these things go," Mior said. "Well yeah, there's that, but you'd think people would learn better eventually. Real life isn't like the stories parents read to their kids at night, where there's always just a poor farmboy with a magic sword, a bright destiny, and a few chipper friends to take on the bad guys. In the real world, Brost exists--someone tries that crap here, we get called in and clean house. And besides, when there's some nutjob talking about how the human race deserves to be extinguished and building a death ray or whatever, the job is usually just to kill him. Not to kill everyone in the whole country he came from." "True. Perhaps this is an exceptional instance in which the Valite culture as a whole wishes destruction upon the world. Regardless, I'm not particularly concerned about the task. If anything this is quite the opportunity for us. If it does turn out that we stop our first world-ending plot here, we stand to gain considerable notoriety for the accomplishment and may begin to receive more prestigious requests." "Yeah, bet you been waiting on this to come your way for a good while now, huh?" "Hm?" "Well, this is your first special job, isn't it?" "Yes. Why?" ".....Never mind. I guess it is a bit of an opportunity, but it still doesn't quite sit right with me. Sure, we might get noticed if we pull it off, but there's a catch. We gotta actually pull it off." "It should prove to be a complex assignment, I agree, but do consider that failure may very well be a non-issue here. Assuming that this is in fact a world-ending plot, and that we do in fact fail to stop it, we won't exactly be remembered for our failure in the matter." "Huh. Never really thought about it like that. Well, looks like this is the spot..... let's see what happens," Johnson said as he walked up to the rest of the group which had been assigned to the task. There was silence for a moment, and then the last hero walked up to the spot. Johnson recognized him as a man named Gilliam; known for his prowess in single combat, but that was about all Johnson knew about him. "Ladies. Gentlemen," Gilliam said. Johnson nodded in response as he looked around the circle of heroes, then noticed that the door to the carriage had been opened. He moved towards it quickly, hoping to secure a window seat on the far side of the vehicle and crossing his fingers that there wasn't a speed-specializing hero with similar aims in the group. |
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| Nova | Jun 9 2011, 01:14:52 AM Post #7 |
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Administrator
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As Gilliam's mechanical horse sat in the desert waiting to ride to Vale, seventeen real horses were crossing the desert toward Brost. On sixteen of these sat male soldiers in plain leather armor. On the seventeenth sat a woman with lower-back-length, blue, wild hair and a suit of fire-red plate mail. In her gauntlet-covered right hand she carried a large spear. Valeri, the Valkyrie of Wind. “You and your men needn't have taken the trouble to escort me back, Thomas,” said the Valkyrie, her voice sharp and clean. “Nonsense,” answered Thomas, who rode beside her. “You are the reason we won the war against Dengran, General Valeri. We could not let you go back alone.” “I am well familiar with the desert's dangers, and might have faced them myself.” “Then consider it as an honor for us to accompany one of your caliber and prestige—a favor to the soldiers for whom you have fought.” “Very well,” said Valeri. “Do as you please, Thomas.” “Thank you, General Valeri. It is truly our honor. The war against Dengran might have cost us many lives had we not had your aid to rely on. But it is nothing new. The heroes of Brost always amaze me, especially—General?” But Valeri had stopped her horse and turned her head. “What ails you, General?” Valeri did not respond; she only raised her spear as a horse came thundering across the sand toward the troupe—so fast that its heart might have burst between its forelegs. Its rider wore heavy plate armor and carried a sword, which he raised as he cried out: “For Dengraaaaan!” The sword-wielding warrior rode toward Valeri; the other soldiers yelled and slowed their horses, but she raised her left hand to stop them. Just as the warrior's sword came cutting through the air to slash her face, Valeri pushed her hand toward him. First, a narrow beam of white light erupted from her knuckles; second, a gust of wind flushed through the broader part of her wrist and reamed into his armor through the opening at the neck. The warrior's sword fell first, missing Valeri's face by mere inches, and then he fell with a mewling yelp: dead. The horse slid and lost its balance, also falling with a whinny. Within four seconds, silence took reign. Thomas regarded the awesome scene and inwardly praised Valeri. He had heard stories of the Valkyrie, who used her magical powers to push and pull the wind with such precision that she could strike critical areas of a man's body—such as the pressure point on the neck—and kill him within seconds, as she had done here. He had watched her from afar during the war too, but to see the ability up close was entirely different. His heart shook with awe. But he remembered himself and said: “General! Are you unhurt?” “I am fine. This man must have followed us all the way from Dengran. Did his best so we would not notice him until now. But he was a fool to think he could hide himself in this desert. And then to charge straight at us like that. A waste, fighting for a defeated country with so little strategy. Well, bury him in the sand. We march on.” “Yes, General Valeri!” “Right away!” Meanwhile, Gilliam and the others ascended the small step to the spacious wagon. Gilliam didn't recognize most of the heroes, but there were two that he did. The first was a tall, thin, brown-bearded man named Lazarus, Titan of Earth. A masterful magician, Lazarus could create earthquakes using the force of his magic. He was a formidable warrior renowned for his ability to take on entire armies. This fact reassured Gilliam; at least one member here was suited for their task. The second familiar face was not a face, but a mask of steel—a helmet, which belonged to Horn, Sword of Flame. Horn was a small man, no more than four feet tall, and was covered head-to-toe with steel armor, so that no piece of skin was exposed. Holes in his helmet allowed him to breathe. Rumor had it, no one had ever seen inside that helmet. Anyone who tried received a quick facial stab—for Horn was also known as The Psycho Midget. No one would ever call him that to his face, but he lived up to the name. Horn was one of the few heroes—if not the only one—who did not try to live up to the ideals of Erik, the first hero. Heroes were trained not only in combat but also in valor and nobility, ideals that Erik had spread throughout the world many centuries ago. Horn believed and followed neither as principle. When angered, he would fly into a series of blows so fast, deadly, and aggressive that flames erupted from the strikes of his sword through air. He would cut down friend and foe alike, with full knowledge. Like Gilliam, Horn was skilled at dealing with single enemies, a fact that also puzzled and concerned Gilliam. These two men, Lazarus and Horn, were two of the four Great Heroes in Brost. The others were Valeri, the Valkyrie of Wind, and Rojin, the Warrior of Lightning. To have as allies two of the four Great Heroes was surely a blessing for such a tough mission, but Gilliam could not shake the dreadful feeling crawling up his stomach. The horse began to trot, and then to gallop, faster than a normal horse by far. They whirled along, and the driver turned back to peek inside the wagon: “We're heading to Vale. Dunno 'bout your ride back, but I'll get you there within six hours.” “Obliged,” answered Gilliam. When silence resumed, Lazarus spoke, calmly and with a fluid, medium-sized voice: “So. We must plan. What will be our strategy?” One of the other heroes, a red-haired young man named Alan who had his hair tied up in a ponytail, thumbed toward the driver and raised an eyebrow. “Ix-nay on the ission-may, eh guys?” “Don't worry,” said Gilliam. “Drivers are always associated personnel.” “Oh, I see.” “What? You green?” Alan solemnly nodded. “You go in first, then. That's our strategy.” Alan stared. Lazarus spoke again: “He is clearly joking. Anyone here have experience with Valites?” At this, a rasping sound came from the metal-covered man known as Horn, and he said: “No need. Kill!” Gilliam shook his head: “None.” He peered out through an opening at the wagon's side. In the distance, he could see a contingent of soldiers on horseback. Must be Valeri and her men. He sighed. “Such unnecessary fanfare.” |
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| rn7 | Jun 9 2011, 05:52:08 AM Post #8 |
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Supreme Commander
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"Put my heeead in a basket cuz I've just had a belly-full..." "When she bleeeew my casket, I surely was thankful!" "Till I head for the skies up aboooooveee!" "Oh, it's a women with steel that I looooove!" An old man stumbled about in the streets, tottering from side to side, like a top on an uneven surface. In one hand he held a bottle and in the other he held a tin can jingling with coins, dried beans still crusted on the dented ends. When he got over to the Lounge, he rammed the doors like a mountain goat, making the doors swing forth then recoil back, smacking him in the chest and knocking him over. He fell down with a loud thud, prompting those nearby to look. A silence fell over the area as people looked down upon him. Some people wanted to check if he was okay, other people thought he might of died. One entire minute later, the old man raised his bottle in the air, and laughed loudly. The people there laughed with him, and helped him up. "Ol' Rusty, I'm surprised you're not dead yet!" One of them said. "I am! I just dern fergot!" Rusty replied back, and made his way over to the bar, the people there laughing as he struggled to sit on the stool. "Barkeep, give me a cold one!" Rusty pounded his tin can like a gavel upon the wood surface, then dumped out his coins. "Now which of you shinies is I gonna give away today?" A tall mug of brew plopped down in front of Rusty. The old man looked up, and a glint was in his eye, like a child receiving that gift he always wanted on his birthday. "What am I thinking? I don't need shinies! Take 'em all!" Rusty pushed aside the coins and dribbled the beer down his throat, letting it splash all over his beard and onto the floor. "How do you make so much money, Rusty?" said the barkeep, as he polished a chunk of bean off the gold piece. "I had no idea professional homelessness was such a lucrative career." "Huh? Oh, me and these folks, we go way back. What do you guys call yerselves now, Justice Friends? Any way, everyone I knew jus' about done retired! But not me, oh no! But they be telling me that I can't be fighting no more, on account of my bum leg and stubby arm, but they can't be firing me and all see? It's in the contract and all and lemme see if I can grabbit..." Rusty reached into his crotch and pulled out a stained paper, waving it in front of the barkeep. "So they send me on missions, as a bum! Gehehehe! Best deal I've ever had. Hey! Another drink! Geh heh!" A few hours later, Rusty's drunken carcass was dragged outside and dumped at the curb while the tavern closed for the day. In Rusty's hand was an envelope, swiped earlier from a guild member who had just been drinking nearby. In it, was an invitation to Vale. |
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| CATZ | Jun 12 2011, 12:46:48 AM Post #9 |
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oh u
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"Nope, way above my pay grade," Johnson said. "Maybe we should start by thinking about how we're gonna get some weapons? Do they even have swords or anything like that in Vale? Hope so, I'm guessing we won't be able to commandeer those elemental things." Having secured his window seat, Johnson was now able to see a group of horses moving outside the carriage. He left the strategy discussions to the others and instead turned his attention to the scene unfolding outside the carriage. It looked like.... yep, had to be her. The soldiers riding alongside her were certainly fanboys, not companions or guardsmen, as Valeri wouldn't need any such assistance. If she was getting back from an assignment now, why wasn't she given this task instead of he? They'd already sent two of the big four with this group; Johnson wished they'd sent a third, as he was feeling quite a ways out of his league right now. |
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| Nova | Jun 12 2011, 01:26:17 AM Post #10 |
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"Weapons. That's right. We need weapons. What are your specialties? I am adept at the use of magic," Lazarus said. "Sword. Need a sword," said Horn, looking up, right, left, and then straight before slapping his metal knees with his gauntlets. "What's the matter?" asked Gilliam. "Can't pay attention?" "Attention deficit disorder," said Horn, looking tensely at Gilliam with eyes that no one could see. "I see." They fell silent for a time, the question of specialties going unanswered, and then Lazarus resumed discussion of strategy. "We can stop for weapons at a nearby town. For now, our plan of attack. I have a suggestion. The Valites number ten thousand. To kill them all, we will need to plan. Vale is a single city, so our success depends only on our approach. No follow-ups. We must get the job done the first time. Leave no survivors. But go down the middle, through the front gates, and our lives are forfeit. I would not be surprised for such a populous city to hold its major buildings at the town's center. There are eleven of us here. I say we split into groups of four, four, and three and flank the city, in a triangular pincer. We attack in order. One group goes first, then another, and then a third. When they gather their forces toward one end of the city, we come in and burn the other. The smaller the city is, the easier it is to mount our offensive. This way we also prevent escapees from getting away." "Wait!" cried Alan. "Escapees? What do you mean? Why would they run?" "They're civilians," said Lazarus drily. "At least, most of them are. Why wouldn't they run, is the better question. They're not used to combat." "We're going to kill civilians?" "Of course. That is the mission." "But we can't do that! What about valor and nobility? We are followers of Erik! Erik would--" "Erik," interrupted Gilliam, "unified twelve nations by killing their sovereigns and all their associates. Erik was a hero who did not care about individual lives. He fought for peace. We do the same. We have been given a mission, and we will carry it out. There's no room for hesitation. You'd best take that to heart, if you're really a follower of Erik." Alan looked down. "You're right," he said, after a pause. Of course, Gilliam himself had never killed civilians before--at least not on this scale--but he could find no fault with this reasoning, so he merely sat and allowed silence to take reign again, in the wake of Lazarus' suggestion. After a few more seconds, Alan spoke up again: "T-then, what about, we surround the city, in a circle, with eleven different points? We can minimize escapees that way!" "Greenhorn," said Gilliam, more than a little annoyed. "You don't go into a mission like this without support. Who's going to cover you when you're ambushed by twenty elementals if you're all by yourself at the gate? Just what've they taught you, anyway?" Alan fell silent again. Horn, who had been until this point still looking around wildly and scraping the seat with his metal knuckles, said, irritated: "We don't need all this talk. I'll kill them all myself! Myself! Do you hear me? I can't wait. Just give me a sword! I'll kill every one of those summoners. Driver! Are we there yet?" They had been riding for the better part of three hours now, with lulls and silences between discussion of strategy, and not once had the driver said anything. But now, in response to Horn, the driver turned his head only slightly over his shoulder, and the carriage ground to a halt, the horse whinnying loudly, though it was mechanical. There was silence as a small cloud of dust billowed. Then, the blond driver stepped down from the driver's seat and appeared at the back of the carriage. In his hand was a standard, driver-issued pistol--a thermal ray gun, which at this distance would incinerate the entire carriage within seconds if fired. Silently, he looked from one hero to another. Gilliam looked him dead in the eye and said, "What's this?" The driver spoke quietly, saying, very quickly but very calmly: "I have family in Vale, two little sisters, who were taken from my parents to be Valite summoners. I know what your mission is now, and we're stopping here. I'm sorry, but you're all going to die." |
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| Purg | Jun 12 2011, 01:38:39 AM Post #11 |
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Now with all the power to abuse!
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Heroes. Born only in times of great need, but, regardless of how many or few there were, they could die at any time. True, many of them were hardier than normal men and women, but that endurance, that tenacity that only appeared in a small percentage of people made them much bigger targets than individual soldiers or mercenaries. The Brostian conventions protected them, made them a neutral force, to be dispensed as hired - but there were still those that wondered why the heroes weren't simply removed from the equation, permanently. Such were Dau's thoughts as the others discussed the mission. He was quiet, his cloak drawn around him, isolating him from the ones he was sharing transport and his mission with. Short of what magic the heroes could conjure, they were all weaponless - this bothered him least of all. There was no reason to fear the summoners, nor death. If the women of Vale were plotting to destroy the world, then the heroes deployed would succeed, or they would all die. He was familiar with the latter option. The others discussed strategy - ways to fight an entire city, without falling to numbers. He listened only, and was the first to notice when the carriage stopped. But he remained silent. The driver drew his weapon and prepared to fire. Dau had been sitting passively, withdrawn, silent. He wouldn't be surprised to hear that the others had already forgotten he was here. But now, with his life on the line again, he acted quickly. His hand shot up to his collar and he dug his claws into his shoulder. With a rapid movement, he drew blood, flinging his crimson-tipped hand towards the driver. The drops, guided by momentum and magic, sliced into the weapon. For the first time since the caravan left, Dau spoke, his voice low and unperturbed by the self-inflicted wound. "Sangromancy. Never without a weapon." |
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| Nova | Jun 12 2011, 01:50:27 AM Post #12 |
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It took only seconds for Horn to grapple the startled driver and gut him with his gauntlet. Gilliam raised a hand to stop him, but the driver was dead, before Gilliam could even stand. The maniacal hero then proceeded to sever the driver's head from the rest of his body, and placed the bloody body piece just outside of the carriage, jutting out of the sand. The horse whinnied at the fore. "Rat bastard," said Horn. "Bloody, rat bastard. That'll show him." The other heroes looked on. Lazarus spoke: "Horn, you should have let us interrogate him. We might have found out something about Vale." But Horn did not respond, for he was now drawing circles, pentagons and large hearts, in the sand around the man's head, the eyes still popped wide open with surprise and fear. "That's quite a talent," said Gilliam to Dau. "Glad to have you aboard. Quite the mix-up by Roc, though. I'm surprised he overlooked the man's involvement. Or maybe he just never mentioned it." "Our ride," said Lazarus. "Any of you proficient enough with technology to drive a mechanical horse?" "N-no," said Alan, still looking at the now-mangled, bloody head. Gilliam shook his head. "Not in the least bit proficient. And I'm not willing to try, either. Those things will kill anyone not steeped in knowledge. I can't operate the keyboard on its neck. How about the rest of you?" |
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| CATZ | Jun 12 2011, 07:06:31 AM Post #13 |
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oh u
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As the doors began to open, Johnson noticed the tip of a weapon barely poking in past them. That was cute, the guy thought he could threaten almost a dozen heroes with that pea shooter. He'd probably been listening in, so Johnson had a really hard time figuring out how the driver missed the part of the discussion where they were planning on killing a whole city by themselves. Not exactly the kind of people you wanted to challenge, ray gun or no. Oh well, his funeral. These thoughts all passed through Johnson's mind before the driver had gotten the door halfway open, seeming to move in incredibly slow motion. It wasn't that the man was actually moving slowly, but rather that Johnson was already moving so quickly. Various other trains of thought concerning the driver's pitiable stupidity also completed in the blink of time that it took Johnson to dive out the window and roll to his feet outside the carriage. As he was coming to his feet, the driver was just beginning to open his mouth to explain why all of the heroes had to die. Johnson was glad he'd gotten the window seat after all, not that he couldn't have gotten out from somewhere in the middle of the carriage, but hey, why make things harder than they need to be. He strolled casually over to the back of the carriage; unsurprisingly, he heard the sound of somebody gutting the poor driver before he actually turned and saw it. "Sheesh, we don't get any weapons, but the drivers get ray guns? Wonder what was going through Erik's head when he came up with that one," Johnson said as he watched Horn mangle the corpse for reasons that completely escaped him. The others said a few things, one of them concerning their now marked lack of anyone able to drive the carriage. Johnson wasn't the best at these things, but he did come from a more advanced nation than most and had thus received some training in such matters. "Guess I could give it a shot if no one else wants to. Just lemme get the..... hey, who blew up the ray gun?! We just got done talking about how we're gonna get weapons a while back! Oh well. Here goes," Johnson said, climbing into the driver's seat and signaling for the other heroes to return to the carriage. Edited by CATZ, Jun 12 2011, 07:07:24 AM.
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| Nova | Jun 12 2011, 11:08:29 AM Post #14 |
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Gilliam had never left the carriage, so he remained sitting and waited. "Don't get us killed," he said to Johnson. Horn was the last one to reboard the carriage, and it was only because he was drawing little patterns on the driver's skin and lacerating the hands, feet, arms, and legs until they were mangled and bloody beyond visual recognition. This only took a minute or two, but Horn came back with his gauntlets and armor covered by blood. Lazarus looked to him. "You might want to clean that before we get there. Don't want to alert anyone to our mission. Well, let's go, 'driver.'" |
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| CATZ | Jun 13 2011, 04:34:45 AM Post #15 |
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oh u
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"Alright, pretty sure I know how to do this, but you might want to hold onto something just in case," Johnson said. He turned his attention to the complex set of controls in front of him, scanning its surface for familiar symbols or designs. After a few seconds he started pushing buttons and typing in inputs; nothing happened and the mechanical horse whinnied in response. Johnson grumbled about the silliness of programming a mechanized horse to behave like a real one while continuing his efforts, and after a couple minutes managed to make the thing move. It only trotted at first, but as he continued fiddling with the controls Johnson quickly figured out how to get it running at full speed. Time seemed to fly by even faster than the horse as it streaked across the desert; before he knew it Johnson could see vast shapes rising up in the distance. This was their stop. Johnson looked down at the keyboard and started typing again, ideally they would be stopping a considerable distance from the city. As the structures of Vale drew closer and closer, though, Johnson was starting to think that might not be an option. For some reason it seemed a lot harder to slow the horse down than it had been to speed it up. Maybe the original driver had tampered with it as a backup method of killing the heroes for when his plan of ray-gunning them inevitably failed? If so his ghost was going to be disappointed, this wasn't going to kill them either, although it might--that thought was interrupted as the screen went blank and then brought up a flashing red image which read "ERROR #404. CORE SYSTEM FAILURE." The horse was still blasting ahead at full speed. "Great." Johnson turned back toward the carriage and shouted at its occupants. "Alright bad news guys, we're there but the horse isn't going to stop, I'd be bailing out of this thing five minutes ago if I were you!" And with that, Johnson braced himself and proceeded to take his own advice. |
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| Nova | Jun 13 2011, 10:34:03 AM Post #16 |
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Lazarus took action just as Johnson spoke and, rising, clasped the palms of his hands together. This sent a stream of white light toward the front of the vehicle and bursting toward the outside ground. A small rift was formed in the earth just ahead of the horse, and the horse stumbled, whinnying eerily as it skidded forward and collapsed with a thud. The carriage was flung over, on its side, and one of its wheels shattered, but the end result was that they were all safe. Gilliam scratched his head and fumbled his way out of the carriage; he was the first one out. He looked at the toppled-over horse and then shook the dust off his cape and cloak. Then he looked straight ahead of him. "There it is," he said aloud. And there it indeed was. Vale was a city at the borderline of death and life, and a short way in the distance, a mammoth, grass-covered mountain stretched out in an arch, as though a green rainbow against the backdrop of the sun. In front of the mountain was a deep valley, far below the level of the desert, and on either side of this valley stretched the mountain's arms, descending from the peak of the mountain to the level of the desert beyond. Vale sat in the middle of this valley, far below the desert, and far, far below the mountain that stood at its back. They had seen some vegetation and breaks in the desertified locale during the trip so far, but they had seen nothing like Vale. To get in from one way, they would need to descend down a large hill that reached toward the desert sands, and to get in from another, they would need to climb down a mountain. It was like a giant bowl with one side much higher than the other. The perfect defense. He wondered why this fact had never entered into their discussion of strategy. "Guess our pincer attack's not going to work." "It will work," said Lazarus, emerging from the carriage. "The group on the mountain must attack first, as they will undoubtedly have fewer sentries there. But first, we need to scout. And we need weapons. We must go in and purchase weapons, and we can scout their security while we do that. Remember that Valites are summoners, so their selection of weapons might be poor. Still, I imagine they do get some travelers and merchants who need protection. Now, one problem remains: we will be too suspicious if all of us go. We must make a list of the weapons we specialize in, and one or two of us must go. Any volunteers?" "I'll go, and kill them all!" said Horn gleefully, dancing around and punching his fists in the air. "You're out," said Gilliam. "They'd recognize you anyway. Lazarus, too. And I'm not exactly innocent-looking with this eyepatch. We need someone less conspicuous." Alan, who had been covering his head since the moment Johnson had told them to get off the carriage, patted away the dust and sand on his body and said: "W-What about me?" He was clearly still flustered. "No. Can't use someone green." "Oh." "Sorry." Gilliam's eyes fell on Johnson, the driver. "Say, you might be inconspicuous. You can drive a mech horse, after all, so if anyone asks you proof of your identity, you show them the key in that horse's neck." Gilliam went over and retrieved it. "You willing to go?" He also looked at Mior and Dau, since they were relatively inconspicuous as well. "Or you folks, if you're inclined in to go in his stead." |
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| rn7 | Jun 14 2011, 06:21:50 PM Post #17 |
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Supreme Commander
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A man with two large guitar cases strolled into down. They were secure, tough cases that had obviously been through quite a lot. On his head was a simple straw hat, sun filtering through the little gaps. His face was barely visible, but just one thing stood out. A fluffy, huge mustache that covered most of his mouth, curling at the ends, like a twisted smile. The man set down both his guitar cases and the backpack he was carrying. Carefully, the man got out a wide sheet, dusted it off, and laid it on the ground. He took off his hat, and squinted at the sun while dusting off the dirt off of his hat. Satisfied, he put his hat back on and opened the cases. In one case was the finest guitar you could ever hope to put your eyes on, at least in this part of the country. The man put his ear against the wood and strummed the strings softly, basking its beautiful sounds. He slowly tuned it, savoring ever sound that came out of his baby, his sweet love for so many years. When he was done, he set down the guitar and went to open the other case. Out came piles and piles of weaponry. Just about every tool and instrument of killing was represented in some way, sort, or form. Just as the man carefully tuned his guitar, he showed the same love to each and every weapon in the other case. Cleaning them, sharpening them, lubricating, maintaining, and the works. When all was said and done, a grand display of weapons was laid out on his wide quilt. The man picked up his guitar and started singing. He had no audience in the summoner city of Vale, but he didn't need one. At least, not for now. |
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| CATZ | Jun 15 2011, 02:36:49 AM Post #18 |
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oh u
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"Sure thing," Johnson said, putting the key in one of his pockets and looking around at the rest of the group. "Hope you all brought some money, though. It's not that I couldn't steal stuff for us, but I'd rather not have to." Or actually, he wasn't sure that he could steal stuff in Vale. Never been there before. Hopefully he wouldn't have to try. "Oh, that won't be necessary. As Johnson here can tell you, I'm not exactly the social type," Mior said, waving a hand in decline to Gilliam's offer. "Here you are. The type of weapon really doesn't matter all that much," he said to Johnson, handing him a heavy bag filled with some kind of currency. |
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| Nova | Jun 16 2011, 12:42:18 AM Post #19 |
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Administrator
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Lazarus removed a piece of paper from the folds of his cloak and produced a pen from somewhere. He wrote down something on it, then passed it to Horn, who, after scribbling something on it in an almost illegible fashion, tossed it to the sand. Alan retrieved it and wrote down something as well. He then passed it to Gilliam, who wrote: "2h sword." He looked at what the others had written. "Knife" was written in clear cursive at the top. After that, "sword" was written in an illegible scrawl. And, right above "2h sword," the word "ballista" was written in large, straight letters. He passed the paper on. |
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| Joel | Jun 18 2011, 03:16:42 PM Post #20 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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SPECIAL REQUEST FOR: JAY LALONDE Classification: Secret Category: Rout Adjutant heroes: 10 Mission description: Your mission is to terminate the citizens of Vale, the summoner's city: population: 10,000. Weapons will not be provided. Time of departure: Tomorrow, 11 a.m., by buggy. Time limit: 1 week Reward: 10 000 jigglewids Special notes: Sharing of this information with those not affiliated with this mission will result in immediate failure and recall. There will be one driver, and only one horse. "What the fuck is a jigglewid?" said Jay out loud. Whatever a jigglewid was, 10 000 sure was a lot of them. "They better be worth a lot." Jay noticed something: the small date printed in the upper right hand corner of the card was yesterday. He looked at his watch. 10:57. Damn. He had just woken up. "Oh well," he said to himself. "Things like this never start on time anyway." He then proceeded to get ready for his normal day. Shower, clothes, breakfast. Yawn. He casually strolled out the door at 11:30, walking down to the buggy-station-thing-place where they would undoubtedly be meeting. Not surprisingly, there was no one around. Oh well. Jay could get to Vale quickly. His particular magic would see to that. It was then that he noticed the "terminate the citizens of Vale" part of the mission card. Why would someone want to wipe out a city? What was the point? Vale was a powerful city, and terminating them might not be the best idea. There would be repurcussions, and he and the 10 adjutant heroes would be the focus of these repurcussions. was it really worth it? Risking his life to eliminate a very powerful city, only to have to risk his life more for the undoubted repurcussions, all for 10 000 of who-knows-what? He must have been missing something. Meh. No time to think about that now. He positioned himself in Vale's direction, focusing on the city. Moving his hands, he manipulated the magnetic fields around him, lifting him up. Then, in one swift movement, he propelled himself toward the town. "Great warmup," he thought to himself. "I'm ready for some action now." His magnetic powers didn't get him quite as far as he had hoped, but he could see a group of people not far away who were probably the other heroes. He walked towards them. "Hey guys. Sorry I'm late. My name's Jay." He said coolly. "By the way, does anyone know what a jigglewid is?" |
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Spoiler: click to toggle http://www.mspaintadventures.com/storyfiles/hs2/06475_1.gif | |
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| Nova | Jun 18 2011, 09:26:14 PM Post #21 |
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Administrator
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Gilliam's eye narrowed. He dug his foot solidly into the sand and gestured with his open palm to the newcomer. "Late for what, exactly?" Who could this be? A scout from Vale? Some kind of merchant? Gilliam hadn't heard about any contact they would have to meet near Vale. In this situation, it was best to play dumb. No need to reveal the plan. He steadied himself, readying a quick fist to the face if the stranger got too close.
Edited by Nova, Jun 18 2011, 09:26:55 PM.
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| Joel | Jun 18 2011, 10:19:29 PM Post #22 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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Jay suddenly remembered the special notes on the card: 'Sharing of this information with those not affiliated with this mission will result in immediate failure and recall.' Of course. They wouldn't know he was 'affiliated with this mission.' They would be playing dumb. "I missed the buggy." He replied to the familiar-looking hero. Almost all of the heroes there looked familiar, and he thought he knew some of their names. What was the name of the man who had spoken? William? They probably would still be suspicious. Jay thought for a moment before continuing. "The card said there would be ten other heroes on this mission. You seem to be missing a few. I'm late because I only got the memo today. At 10:57, three minutes before we were supposed to be at the buggy." These guys must be the others on the mission. Why else would this many heroes be in the same place at the same time? |
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| rn7 | Jun 21 2011, 07:21:11 AM Post #23 |
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Supreme Commander
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It was unlike anything she had heard before in this city. The sounds were soothing and calming, calling to her as it echoed down the long streets. She was ready to leave, but the music hooked her ears, and she could not hope to escape before finding its source. She found the mustached man there, strumming his guitar. It looked similar to the stringed instruments she played before, but with a completely different sound, and a completely different look. The guitar looked homely and earthly, rather than smooth and professional. She could not help but stare at the man for a while, just admiring his songs. The song ended, and the man looked up. He smiled and looked at the girl. "Looking for somethin', miss?" The man asked, while prying a canteen open and drinking it. "Oh! Oh no, sir. Nothing at all, I was just... admiring... your musical instrument. What is it?" "This here lil thing? Why my girl's the finest dang git-tar you'll ever darn see! No matter how many times I've been let down, she'll still be 'ere to pick me up! Ain't that right, girl?" The man strummed his guitar for emphasis. "Um.. okay. I must be going now." The girl responded, and turned to leave. But something else caught her eye, and she stopped. "Wait a sec! What are all those weapons doing there?" "Quite a selection, innit? Got every tool you could possibly need for any problem you could possibly have, heh heh." "Are you selling? You're a merchant, right?" The girl's hand shot out to the weapons and grabbed a wide knife from the pile. She held it with both hands, choking it at the handle, eyes wide with nervousness. "Well sure! But if you don't mind me, missy, this might be the better one fer ya." The man slowly unraveled the girl's fingers from the knife, and handed her a dagger, which easily slipped into her hands. "How's it feel, huh?" "Oh!" The girl said as she handled the dagger in her hand. It felt comfortable and familiar, as if she had wielded it for years. The handle was the perfect size for her hand, and the blade never managed to cut her, despite its sharpness. "Oh my! This is perfect! How much is it?" "It's free, everything here is free." "W-what? How is that possible?" The man opened up one of his guitar cases and sat down next to them. He slowly started strumming his guitar. "There's only one condition. You gotta listen to my song. And if you like it, that's good. My case is open. If you like my song, you can put your money in. If you don't, you can walk away. I won't fret about it none, and I won't follow you or nothing." The man played a song for the girl. A song about growing up, about being your own person. About how she was no longer just a girl now. And when the song ended, the girl was in tears. She opened her satchel, and placed some money into the case. "Thank ya. Thank ya kindly, girl." The man said in a soft voice. "There are still good people in this world. Lemme give you a tip, girl. Something's going down in the town of Vale tonight. I don't want ya to be part of it, ya hear? So get outta here, soon as you can. Find my cousin, Two-Deep, in the technocity. Plays a mean shiftersax. He'll keep you safe. Girl, you'll be a woman soon, ya hear? World's yours for the taking." As the girl walked off into the distance, waving goodbye, the mustached man took his invitation to Vale and threw it into the fire, letting it disintegrate into ashes. |
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| Lemon | Jun 21 2011, 07:31:40 AM Post #24 |
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I didn't know you could change this
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Alright, here's the low-down. My guy's a postal worker and I don't have an interesting name for him in mind yet. Basically, what he's trying to do is get certified as a hero, because he's pretty borderline. Overall, he's far and away the best at one specific thing, mail delivery, but that's not really all that great. Also, he's not the best at any of it's individual components; he's not the fastest of all heroes (although he is close), nor the most accurate at throwing letters (fucking archers being heroic at accurate stuff), and not the best address-rememberer (architecht heroes, what posers) either. But none of those other guys I mentioned have delivered the same number of letters with a single hand that he does in a minute. So my dude went up to this council of hero-inducting folk in Broston, since he wasn't from around there because they don't have mailboxes. He told the voice of the hero king guy his spiel about how fucking sweet he is at delivering stuff and why this could be useful and the like. Almost every city has mailmen, which is more or less mercenary work without any unions??? But the guy was in a bad mood today and said "No you can't be a hero your skill is less useful than our minimum" but when asked what unit he measured it in he had no answer so my guy left. "Well fine if I can't be a hero then I guess I'll be a villain" said my guy, luckily for him he spoke by writing a letter to himself instead of saying it aloud though because there were lots of heroes around. He left and picked up the city's letters heneeded to deliver and then went on to the next city: VALE. But first he joined in some of the Broston's hockey celebrations (they won) and got a bit drunk and when he woke up he had an awesome sword from somewhere, but he had to put it away when he left the city because you can't leave with that stuff so that was the end of that. He went to Vale to deliver letters. |
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| CATZ | Jun 21 2011, 11:55:14 PM Post #25 |
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oh u
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"Ah, a new arrival--fascinating! On the one hand, you certainly know of our mission, there is no point in maintaining any further pretenses in that regard. On the second hand, how can we be assured that you did not kill off one of the heroes en route to the meeting point and take his card? You could be a professional hired by the denizens of Vale to neutralize the threat we pose, for all we know. On the third hand......" As Mior went on and on about something or other, Johnson surveyed the piece of paper with the weapons written on it. Sword, knife, something Johnson deduced was written in Horn's scrawl and thus meant sword, sword..... it occurred to Johnson that he wasn't running with the most imaginative group of heroes. But hey, the metal-blade-on-a-handle was an ancient and time-tested weapon of war, reliably serving mankind's thirst for violence for untold millenia. If it's not broke, don't fix it, right? Next on the list was "ballista," that was more like it, someone with some flair to their fighting. Johnson himself would be going for one of those wicked cool thermal ray guns, hands down. Mior was still droning on, might be good to check if he was talking about anything important; Johnson looked up and noticed the subject of Mior's rant, a new guy. "Hey, I know him! Jay, right? Don't sweat it, he's alright. We're collecting weapons, what's your preferred kind? Or are you one of those 'I am a living weapon!' types?" Johnson asked the new guy, cutting Mior off. He wasn't sure where from specifically, but he knew he'd seen Jay around Brost at one point or another. Maybe the same guy or guys that set up the carriage driver also delayed Jay's card? An already-weird assignment was just getting weirder by the minute....... |
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| Joel | Jun 22 2011, 11:43:16 AM Post #26 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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"Obviously, you'll just have to trust me that I am who I say I am, and that I didn't kill the real Jay. Regardless, I know of the mission, and I'm here to help." "Hey, I know him! Jay, right? Don't sweat it, he's alright." Good. Some reassurance for the rest of those people. Jay had seen Johnson around, and he knew him by face, and reputation. He vaguely remembered working with him on some previous mission, though he couldn't remember exactly what that mission was. "We're collecting weapons, what's your preferred kind? Or are you one of those 'I am a living weapon!' types?" "Hi there, Johnson." Said Jay unconcernedly. "I don't really need a weapon, but a rod made of a magnetic metal helps me focus. Cobalt works best, but Iron is almost as good." Jay looked at his fellow heroes thoughtfully."So, any idea why we've been sent to annihilate this town? Or what a jigglewid is? 'cuz I'm being paid 10 000 of those to do this mission." |
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| Nova | Jun 22 2011, 03:30:24 PM Post #27 |
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"Why do we have to trust you? We could just kill you instead," said Gilliam. Horn's attention was caught immediately, but then Johnson spoke. Apparently, he recognized Jay. Well, so much for that. "Strange," said Gilliam quietly, turning back toward Vale. "I could have sworn there were eleven here, when we got on the buggy. Yet we were missing one . . ." "Enough of this," said Lazarus suddenly. "Neither do we have any notion of purpose for our mission, nor do we have time to dally thinking about it. Time dwindles. Are you going to get the weapons, Johnson?" As Lazarus was speaking, Gilliam walked over to Alan and said: "Do you have any idea who wrote down 'ballista'?" "No," said Alan. "Not at all." |
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| CATZ | Jun 23 2011, 12:32:51 AM Post #28 |
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oh u
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"The jigglewid is some form of currency, I would assume, though certainly not of any variety that I'm familiar with," Mior said to Jay, ignoring the ongoing discussion about weapons. "Sure, I'll get the goods. I guess no one really brought any money, but that's no problem, if all you guys want are swords I should have no trouble stealing a few. I think the guy who wanted the ballista might be out of luck, though. Shame, I'd love to see one of those in action. Alright, I'm off to shop. Be back in a few!" he said, moving towards Vale after he finished speaking. He didn't get far before a familiar figure appeared beside him. "Not so fast! I will accompany you," Mior said. "Huh? Thought you said you weren't the social type," Johnson said. "I'm not! You see, this way I only have one companion--had I stayed behind, I'd have nine." "I see. Well, I guess I could use a wingman anyways, just to be safe. Let's get this done with." The two took up a brisk pace, arriving at the walls of Vale in no time; the gates of the city were open and they were able to pass inside without incident. "Let's split up, shall we? We can browse the city's wares more efficiently that way," Mior said. "Hm, sure thing. Meet back at the gates in twenty?" Johnson asked. "Of course. I will attempt to procure a ballista; I leave the swords to you," Mior said, taking off before Johnson had a chance to respond. "Hey, but you left me your money! ..... Oh well, his loss." Johnson shrugged as he watched his companion disappear into the crowds of the street. If he wanted to take the hard part, more power to him. Johnson turned his attention to his task, roaming the streets with an eye out for a decent blade. The city of Vale wasn't nearly as exciting as he'd imagined on the ride over. In most respects it seemed like any other city in the less advanced regions: Plain-looking people maneuvering through dusty streets, often accompanied by a horse or a cart to carry their goods, vendors hawking six-shooters as "exotic weapons from mysterious lands!" at their makeshift stands, raucous laughter drifting out from the occasional tavern. It was a city filled with life, but it didn't seem to be filled with magic, as Johnson had imagined the summoner's city would be. Then again, just because it was called that didn't mean every citizen was a summoner, and Johnson did catch a glimpse of the city's namesake here and there. A figure of living fire accompanying a woman who drew respect from those around her, a cloud of ice that swirled past Johnson as if it were on some kind of mission, the occasional flashes of bright light in the sky, originating from somewhere deeper within the city. Thoughts of the city were broken as Johnson finally spotted what he'd been searching for. The man's huge mustache made him impossible to miss and he had a damn good looking guitar, but that wasn't what interested Johnson. It was a damn shame that all those weapons were set out in the open, in plain sight, in a city that was unfamiliar to Johnson. Stealing them would be too risky. Johnson looked back at the man after passing him, trying to get another look at that guitar, but soon enough the mustached man was forgotten and his attention returned to the task at hand. It only took him a few more minutes to find a blacksmith's shop, sneak into the forge in the back while the guy was busy with a customer, and accidentally nudge some burning coals the wrong way. As the shop's owner fled the burning building, Johnson strode back into the front room and used the last few seconds before the building collapsed to browse the weapons available. He came out of the shop carrying the best-looking swords he could find, told a curious bystander that he was the blacksmith's son and was saving the merchandise, that no of course he wasn't a looter, what kind of looter would try to loot a burning building, and then disappeared into the crowd. There were still a few more minutes to go before he was set to be back at the front gate of the city, and Johnson knew what he was going to do with them. He knew how to use a sword, certainly, but it wasn't his weapon of choice. A few of Mior's coins pressed into a random man's hand made him friendly enough to tell Johnson where to go for high-tech weaponry. The place was called "The Silver Rush." Johnson had been to a couple of these before, they were a chain of high-tech weapons merchants set up throughout low-tech nations, making their profits by selling to the aristocrats of those nations for prices that the poor nobles didn't realize were completely outrageous in countries where such weaponry was commonplace. Even though they generally sold junk that backfired half the time to the locals, they also carried some good stuff in case someone from a more advanced nation was passing through and looking to re-arm himself. Johnson quickly made it clear to the clerk that he was one such person, and was quietly taken to the shop's back room where said good stuff was on display. Johnson took out the bag of Mior's money and tossed it onto a table. "What's the best I can get for this?" he asked. "Ohhh, are those medallias? We don't often get customers carrying those! Right over here, sir. I believe this, my friend, is what you're looking for--the XLR-300. This fusion-powered beauty spews blasts of superheated plasma at a steady semi-automatic clip, going toe-to-toe with even the strongest magicians these less civilized regions can throw at you. It's accurate up to an indefinite distance thanks to the nature of the projectiles and features an infrared scope with x2, x5 and x10 zoom options," the clerk said. "Wicked," Johnson said, taking the glowing contraption in his arms and examining it with a smile on his face. "Still thirsty for energy-powered vengeance? The XLR-300 also features an extended thermal lance mounted underneath the coiling, more than a match for any sword or spear." "I'll take it," Johnson said, pushing Mior's money towards the clerk. Mior wouldn't miss it he figured, when this was over they'd all be swimming in froons and jigglewids anyways. He walked out of the store with the plasma rifle slung across his back and the swords in a small cart he'd found, heading back towards the city's entrance. With any luck Mior would remain forgetful of his money and assume that Johnson had bought the rifle on his own coin, if not he'd have to get creative..... but when he arrived Mior was nowhere to be seen. Was he still looking for a ballista, or had he gotten himself into some kind of trouble? The question was quickly rendered moot as a small child came up to Johnson and pressed a note into his hand. "A nice man paid me to give this to you," the boy said before walking off. Johnson opened the note. Dear Johnson, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I won't be rejoining you. I find that I often work best on my own, and have now gone off to do so. I merely wished for an excuse to distance myself from the group without having to endure annoying questions. Please do not take offense and keep in mind that I warned you, I am not exactly the social type. Oh, and as for the ballista, it is as you said before we left: That guy might be out of luck. Sincerely, Mior "Heh, guess I can just hang onto the plasma rifle then!" --- Twenty minutes later found Johnson unloading the cart of swords in front of the group of heroes outside the city. "Here you guys go, swords aplenty just like you ordered, and one knife for whoever wanted that. Sorry about the cobalt rod, they just don't sell those in these parts, but that sword there is made of iron I think, should do you just fine," Johnson said, directing the last comment to Jay. Meanwhile, he gave in to the urge to take up his plasma rifle and examine its shining surface. It was gonna be fun to test drive this against a few summoners. Edited by CATZ, Jun 23 2011, 12:47:06 AM.
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| Nova | Jun 23 2011, 01:23:32 AM Post #29 |
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Gilliam picked up a large, two-handed longsword and swung it heavily through the air. The sword went flying and swept through the air like a sidewinder through sand. Within moments, it was ninety feet away. "Weak," said Gilliam. He picked up another, a broadsword, and gave it the same treatment. This time, the sword crashed only thirty feet from where he had been standing. "Better," he said, and went over to pick it up. "Nice job. Should do the trick. My weight test says it's pretty good, at least. Don't want a sword to be able to fly too far through the air, either. Better for spears. Hey, didn't another guy go with you? Is he getting more weapons? Well, never mind. This is probably good enough." The weapons were distributed--a sword to Horn, a knife to Lazarus, a sword to Alan . . . everyone, at the last, was armed, except for one man who had until now been entirely silent. He was small, though larger and taller than Horn, and wore a simple peasant's garb. He had sand-colored hair. He folded his hands together and quietly looked over to Johnson, the man's eyes neither blinking nor moving their gaze from Johnson's face. Presently he spoke: "Johnson, I believe your name was." His voice was calm, his words fluid, and his enunciation solid. "Where is the ballista that I requested?" He continued to stare at Johnson's face without blinking. |
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| CATZ | Jun 23 2011, 02:05:25 AM Post #30 |
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oh u
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"Actually, that other guy he mentioned was in charge of the ballista, I was just supposed to get the swords. He decided to bail on us, check it out," Johnson said, presenting the note to the plain looking man. "What a jerk, huh? I could always go back and grab it if you want, wouldn't take long if you have the money on you." |
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| Nova | Jun 23 2011, 02:33:50 AM Post #31 |
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The plain-looking man only shook his head and muttered a cold "Thank you." He went over to the cart and picked up a sword, as swords formed the bulk of the good weaponry that Johnson had acquired. "So, we are minus one, then," said Lazarus, snatching the note from Johnson's hand and reading it speedily. "It seems this person will not be returning. Very well. No need to waste any more time. Let us proceed to plan our attack. Divide into groups of three or four, according to ability. Two groups flank the city. The third group approaches from the mountain. A bit of a climb. That'll be the last group to attack. Should probably be the physically strongest members. Magic attacks first, make them feel the danger. That way they'll concatenate their efforts on one side, and we can blast a hole in their defense, skewer the odds. Johnson, you've been inside. How does security look in there?" "Sir!" said Alan, interrupting. "Aren't we going to scout the perimeter, sir?" "No. Too much of a waste of time. And we risk being seen. We've already gone inside, and we left a man in there. There's no telling how much information we've already revealed by just sitting here idly, in fact. We'll reveal no more." "So we're attacking right now? Shouldn't we attack at night?" "No, we shouldn't." "Why not, sir? It'll be harder to see us." "And we'll have a harder time seeing them. Can't afford that. There are too many of them to risk letting any of them slip by. We kill each and every one. Now is the time, let's move out." "Hold on, one thing," said Gilliam. "It seems most of us are sword users. We don't seem well balanced for this. Maybe we shouldn't split up after all." "If we don't do that, we risk losing them." "I disagree. How can they escape up a mountain? It would take too much time. We only need to make sure either side is secure." "That would require splitting up." "Not if we finish it quickly enough. Go through the center, and spread out from the inside. It'll be faster for sure. And we don't need to climb a mountain. What do the rest of you think?" he said, turning to Joel and Johnson and the others. Neither Horn nor the plain-looking man were paying any attention, so he ignored them. |
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| Joel | Jun 23 2011, 12:00:13 PM Post #32 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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"What I think will be affected by what metals there are. In cities that are all metals, I could crumple a building in minutes. Faster if I have a rod." Jay examined the plain iron sword, bending it to his will, rolling it into a tube, then into a rod, then lengthening it until it was as tall as he was; about 6'. "I don't know how much effect I can have in a non-advanced city like this. We'll see." Jay probed underground with his mind, a little trick he picked up among his training. He found some iron, some nickel, some lodestone, a little hematite. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then he hit the motherload: what appeared to be about a tonne of neodynium-iron-boron, at about the center of the city. "There appears to be about a tonne of neodynium-iron-boron underneath the center of the city. This is a rare metal. It has one of the strongest magnetic pulls, and therefore one of the most easily manipulated. If we go to the center, I'll be able to manipulate that much more easily. I'm not saying we should all go to the center to accomodate me, but I know that I'll be able to contribute much more near the center." |
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| Nova | Jun 25 2011, 01:20:45 AM Post #33 |
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"I've heard of that ability," said Gilliam, nodding. "That might come in handy. The center probably has a couple of important buildings. Alright, so taking control of the center will help Joel do his thing. That's an advantage for the direct approach." "Perhaps," said Lazarus. "But do keep in mind that his attack on the center is as likely to impair our own situation as it is the opponent's. It doesn't matter when he launches his attack--he could do it after the first two groups have already weakened their defenses. They won't be expecting a unique attack like that at their center while defending their flanks. What matters is where we are, and how we are affected by the same attack. We must consider the strategies, the possible outcomes, before we strike. Let us not forget that one of our companions is down there, as well, and we do not know his precise location. Furthermore--" "Enough of this!" said Horn suddenly, waving his sword between Lazarus and the others. "I will kill them all myself!" These words echoed over the sand in the wake of Horn's sudden, bold charge; he ran across the desert sands with his sword held high in the air and leaped over the edge of the desert, toward the green valley below; his small, metal-covered frame shone beneath the sunlight as he descended, a streak of fire bursting in the air above him. "Ayaaaahooooooo!" the raspy yell came, like liquid overflowing from a bowl. Lazarus stared. "That blithering idiot . . ." "Looks we have no choice!" said Gilliam as he began to run after Horn. "Yes," said Lazarus, also beginning to run. "Anything we do after that fool's charge will be entirely ineffective. They'll be too prepared. We must follow up immediately. To the center it is!" Gilliam was not listening. He peered over the border, where the desert ended and the grassy slope of the valley began. There were trees scatterd along the incline, and jagged rocks, and at the bottom, nested near the huge city of Vale, which was at the middle of the bowl shape, was a medium-sized forest. The behemoth wooden gates of Vale were open, and many of the brick, concrete, and marble buildings inside rose to impressive heights before him. Below, Horn was charging the gates and swinging his sword like a madman. Every time the sword fell, fire gushed out and incinerated the air before Horn. Several tall females, with supple bodies and sharp curves, had already arrived at the gates and had begun to chant an incantation. Hearing their voices, some of the trees along the incline sprang to life and jetted across the earth like spiders, swinging their branches at Horn. Gilliam gripped his sword tightly and barreled down the incline. Already, he could see a woman wearing a blue robe gesturing to him and chanting. Clouds began to form above Gilliam's head, as though they too had come to life. The Elemental clouds took shapes, of animals and of warriors, and began to accost him, blocking his path. He broke through them with a swift shoulder bash and lunged toward the gates as they followed after him. He raised his sword and cried, "To victory!" Meanwhile, Lazarus still stood at the top of the incline. He knelt to the ground and thrust his palms into the grassy earth just beyond where the sand ended; concentrating his mind, he unleashed a furious stream of energy into the earth, causing a rift to form at the top of the incline. The rift worked its way down, veering just as it came upon Gilliam and Horn, and turned straight toward the wooden gates. When it had reached the entrance, Lazarus stood up in one rapid motion, and the whole of the earth before the gate began to tremble. Shaking violently along the sides of the rift, the earth split further apart, and the initial tremor was succeeded by larger tremors, spread out further and further. Soon a small earthquake had begun just beyond Horn's and Gilliam's swords, throwing a few chanting summoners to the ground. More were arriving; within moments the entire fore of Vale was dotted by blue and red and yellow robes--the Valite summoners were quick, and came in throngs to Vale's defense at no notice. The battle had begun. |
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| Joel | Jun 27 2011, 11:40:35 AM Post #34 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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"That blithering idiot." That pretty well summed up their situation. Couldn't Jay noticed a metallic glint around the summoner's necks. A necklace? Made of metal, possibly? He probed with his mind... yes. Solid Iron, with some kind of gem in the center, probably to focus their magic. "Let's see how well they can focus without air." He tried with just one first; the necklace contracted into itself, choking the summoner. After several seconds, she fell to the ground, dead. "That was easy", Jay said to himself. "Let's see how many I can do at a time." He focused on the necklaces of five summoners this time. Before long, they too were killed from a lack of oxygen. However much damage he could do from afar, Jay knew his biggest strength lay at the center of Vale. He needed to get there; the team needed every advantage they could get. He ran up to Gilliam. "I'll help out here for a little while, then I'll get to the center." Before long, bodies of summoners littered the ground outside Vale. But however many they had killed, the summoners still outnumbered them by amounts he didn't even want to think about. He backed away from the fighting, pretending to be injured. He headed back to where they were before. The little man who had requested the ballista was nowhere to be seen. Hmmmm... where could he have gone off to? Jay tapped the rod against the ground, launching himself straight into Vale. He could feel the pull from the magnetic metal, drawing him in. He touched down directly above it. He brought the entire tonne of metal up through the ground. Now, to really start attacking. |
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| CATZ | Jul 2 2011, 05:59:26 AM Post #35 |
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oh u
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"Sheesh, how is that guy one of the big four?" Johnson said with exasperation in his voice. He'd been hoping for more time to get properly acquainted with his prized new weapon before the fighting started, but thanks to Horn that wouldn't be possible. "Hope this thing comes pre-calibrated!" Johnson raised the plasma rifle up and looked through the scope as summoners began filling the gates of the city. There was no need for him to charge in, not yet at least; the rifle had more than enough range to do damage from a safe vantage point above it all. Johnson heard the satisfying hum of power surging through the coils as he flipped the safety off; a couple taps of the scope brought him into x10 zoom, giving him a crystal-clear shot at the first line of summoners. Electronic readouts around the scope's crosshairs displayed all kinds of complex and pointless data about the targeted summoner, vital signs such as heartbeat and breathing rate, along with a "power level" of 33.71. Power level? What did that mean? Apparently not much, as when Johnson squeezed the trigger she promptly disintegrated. Out of curiosity, he swung the rifle around and aimed briefly at Horn. The power level switched to read "9001," amusing, Johnson thought. These extraneous data readouts were often included in such weapons to make their users feel like sophisticated high-tech badasses while they mowed things down, but he'd never seen any quite this ridiculous. Putting those thoughts aside, Johnson turned his attention back to the job at hand. The rifle flashed bright green over and over again, each time felling a summoner. Even though Johnson was killing dozens upon dozens of them at a steady rate of several per second, their numbers continued to swell. This was disconcerting not because there was any chance that he'd run out of ammo, but because he'd need to venture into the city itself at some point. After all, the mission was to eradicate the city's citizens, meaning that in addition to defeating the summoners they also needed to ensure that no civilians escaped the scene. The longer they waited outside the city walls, the more likely it was that someone would slip out somehow. Any other group assigned to this task might have considered it unreasonable to expect 100% casualties on the other side, but heroes weren't supposed to accept failure in even the slightest degree. Figuring that his weapon was too overpowered for anything to pose a real threat to him and consequently deciding that it would be best to push into the city sooner rather than later, Johnson began making his way down into the valley, still raining plasma rounds into the battle as he came. He focused his fire in one particular area of the gate, keeping it relatively free of summoners, then made a dash for the opening he'd created, easily slipping through. With his speed and reflexes being his greatest skill, Johnson could go building-to-building and kill everyone in the city in a not completely unreasonable amount of time, but there were much more efficient methods available. He made his way through several homes, quickly coming upon one that had an oil lamp in its main room. A man and his wife cowered in the corner of the room; Johnson incinerated them and took the lamp, smashing it against the table and then slinging the oil all over the house's walls. A few well-placed plasma bolts set the oil off, and within seconds the house was an inferno. Johnson broke off the leg of a chair and placed it into the flames, then dashed out of the house. He needed to spread the blaze, and he knew exactly where to spread it next. A minute later Johnson found himself in front of the Silver Rush once again. The establishment now had several men guarding its entrance with various laser weapons, looking tense and trigger-ready. The establishment would be looking to defend its own interests, not those of the city, but as far as Johnson was concerned everything inside the walls had to go. He flipped a switch on the bottom of his rifle and the weapon's thermal lance extended, a bayonet of raw energy that cut through the shop's guards as if they were butter, leaving small flames around the edges of their bisected torsos as they fell to the ground, dead before they even realized Johnson was there. He ran into the shop and found himself facing the flabbergasted clerk, who had just enough time to say something like "But we gave you!" before Johnson gutted him. Johnson tossed the flaming chair leg onto a wooden countertop and then went into the back of the shop, smashing open a display case and taking a few incendiary grenades. There was bound to be some kind of high-yield explosive or other highly combustible material somewhere in the place, so as it started to burn it was only a matter of time before the surrounding city blocks were leveled. By the time that happened Johnson would be long gone, using the incendiary grenades to start fires in key locations and raze the city as fast as possible. With the whole city burning and his comrades holding the gates, no one would be coming out alive. Except for him, of course. The summoners whom he now found blocking his path would probably have something to say about that, though. Johnson killed two of them straight off but was forced to dive aside as the third summoned a ring of fire around him which he barely escaped. He melted her and turned to the last summoner only to receive a heavy blow before he could get the shot off. An ice golem stood behind Johnson, already raising its fist for another strike as he staggered forward. He whirled around and aimed the plasma rifle, but when he pulled the trigger nothing happened. The golem promptly smashed him into a building across the street. As he got to his feet, a glance at his weapon revealed the problem; small icicles were hanging from it and a freezing mist rose from its frame. The extreme cold radiated by the golem had locked up the weapon's delicate circuits. To see that hurt Johnson much more than the golem's blows had, but in the grand scheme of the battle it was a minor setback. The rifle had already played its role, its killcounter was approaching a thousand when Johnson last looked in the scope. He maneuvered nimbly around the golem and bashed the summoner with his frozen plasma rifle, knocking her to the ground. A foot to the neck and the right amount of pressure applied at the right angle, and her neck snapped before she could offer further resistance. "Well, looks like I gotta do things the old-fashioned way after all," Johnson said, shouldering the rifle before taking a fancy-looking sword off of the summoner's body and charging at the golem. Taking it down was a fairly simple affair, and afterwards Johnson continued to head towards the center of the city, the obvious place from which a fire could most easily spread out to everywhere else. It looked like at least one of his companions was already there; that was good to see, if they were already fanning out into the city the main battle must be going well. |
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| Nova | Jul 6 2011, 01:32:10 AM Post #36 |
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Gilliam fought his way through the city, Horn always several steps ahead of him. For every summoner that Gilliam killed, Horn felled another four. Gilliam saw why Horn was one of the Four Heroes; though he was skilled at taking down single targets, Horn easily dealt with scores of summoners at a time. How much stronger would he be in one-on-one combat, as that was his specialty? As Gilliam thought this, a warrior came up from his left flank and tried to stab him in the neck with a shortsword. He responded by grabbing the warrior's hand and breaking it in two places. He then quickly gutted the warrior. Didn't seem like a summoner at all. He figured that some of the traveling merchants and their guardsmen had joined in the battle, because by this point the heroes were all beyond the gate. He heard Alan crying from somewhere behind him; no doubt a greenhorn's battle cries. Battle cries were meant to motivate the self, but they wasted energy; a real hero motivated himself by the swinging of his sword alone. Occasionally, Gilliam also felt tremors beneath him--some distance away, Lazarus must be creating earthquakes. The other heroes had split up on entering Vale. But now that they had breached the interior of the city, the rough part would come. Killing the civilians. Nobody could escape now; for Horn, Gilliam imagined this would be easy. But to Gilliam, killing civilians felt a little tasteless. Still, he wouldn't back down. He never backed down from a job; if there had been any risk of his backing down, he wouldn't have accepted the job at all. He grimly looked ahead of him; he saw Johnson and Jay standing side by side, and Horn rapidly approaching them. The soldiers in this area had been thinned out. Only the four of them stood here. "Looks like I'm late to the party," shouted Gilliam as he came up on them. When he arrived, Horn had already started rushing toward another part of the city, doubtless to look for more people to kill. "Okay, he's going that way," said Gilliam quickly. "I'm going to go that way, then, and scout for citizens. You guys can do what you want, since it seems our strategy's gone to hell now." He began to walk away from Johnson and Jay, readying his sword for the grim task before him. But just as he was about to leave the square at the center of town, he felt another tremor below him, and was shaken. He steadied himself by slightly bending his knees and screwing the heels of his feet against the ground. This one was several times stronger than the tremors that he had felt before. He figured that Lazarus must be nearby. When the tremor stopped, he straightened again and started walking--only to be thrown fully back, onto his back. He sailed several feet through the air and hit his head hard on the granite floor. For several seconds, he could not see; something sharp and hard began rapidly and repeatedly stinging the outside of his closed eyes. "Ow! What's that? Who's doing that" asked Gilliam. It wasn't strong enough to be an enemy attack--was it a bee or something? Or maybe a bunch of bees. He swiped his hand in front of his face to ward it away, but the attack continued for another two seconds; then, he burst up and kicked his leg forward to push himself away from the assailant. He opened his eyes and drew back his sword, readying a swing. "What in the bloody--" he said, but he was knocked on his back again as he was speaking, his sword flying out of his hand. Towering above them stood a green-and-white creature the size of a mountain--trees ran along the side of its skinless, stone body, and its head and arms were covered with snow. Jagged crags and spires jutted out from its chest and back, and as it spun its two colossal arms through the air, large boulders fell to the ground, causing tremors that shook the earth. Bits of rubble flew everywhere, like rain, and these hit Gilliam across the face and chest. With its girth, the creature seemed to envelop half the city in shadow. It roared, two large, hideously twisted lines running through its blank, eyeless face serving as its mouth. The inside was dark and toothless. The mountain had come to life. |
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| rn7 | Jul 8 2011, 05:13:39 AM Post #37 |
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Supreme Commander
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The guitarist walked against the flow, as the defenders rushed out of their holes and homes to assist in the protection of their beloved city. The rushing crowd was inconsistent and formless, a sure sign of panic. But not surprise entirely, or at all, if the quaking earth was any indication. The guitarist set down his equipment and hung to the side, letting the meat of the crowd pass before he continued on. He did not know much about this town, or not as much as he would have hoped. A month of observation gained him some insight, but he still had to guess a lot. The obvious thing would be the center of the city, containing some ferrous metal. Someone would not haphazardly place something there, especially in a city that valued symbolism so much. He did know about the land surrounding the city though, and its unique geological properties. Perhaps if stressed enough, and if focused enough, a collapse of the center could be forced. But maybe the more pressing issue was the tremors rocking outside. A bit too periodic and controlled to be a naturally occurring earthquake. The guitarist didn't quite recall there being earth manipulators in the town of summoners, but perhaps they came to visit. At last the guitarist came to his destination. It was a large, immense structure that he had heard mentioned only in passing. In a way, it was the reason why the guitarist wasn't able gather as much information as he would have liked. He had spent all his time in search of this weapon. He wasn't quite sure what could justify a weapon of this size, unless the summoners of Vale were looking to lasso in the moon for their experiments. Though perhaps consistent with the zealotry of the people of Vale, the weapon had nowhere near the thrust to escape the atmosphere, especially down here like this. It wasn't worth speculating any way. The guitarist armed the giant ballista and fired the rope-tethered bolt, making the underground bunker explode into shards, and sending a giant locomotive-sized arrow toward the center of the city. |
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| Joel | Jul 10 2011, 02:20:09 PM Post #38 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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"Stay right here. Don't move." Said Jay, addressing his teammates. Not bothering to give a reason, he manipulated the metal until it was a large ring. He then stretched it out until Vale fit nicely inside of it. He dropped it down on the ground with an enormous thunk. An enormous circular wall now surrounded Vale. Tapping his staff against the ground, Jay focused all his energy on contracting the circle. The smaller in length it got, the thicker the wall became, and the harder it would be for anyone to escape. In a few negligible minutes, most of the buildings - and presumably most of the people - in Vale were crushed by the metal. Then all hell broke loose. The mountain stood up and yawned. It did not look happy, although that may have only been the way its face was shaped. "I need to stay here and finish what I started." Said Jay. "You guys can either stay here or fight that thing, though I would not advise the latter. Once the city is crushed, I can flatten the metal into a platform and probably get us all back to Brost." He went back to shrinking the circle. |
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| CATZ | Jul 13 2011, 06:32:42 PM Post #39 |
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oh u
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"Whoa, nice trick you've got there! Beats the hell out of my plan," Johnson said, looking down at the now-mostly-useless incendiary grenades he'd picked up. It was good that he didn't need them now though, it meant he'd have them ready if something else came up before things were done. Unfortunately something else did come up. The worst thing about it was that the living mountain now attacking them wasn't even his biggest concern at the moment. The real issue was the enormous ballista bolt zeroing in on his and Jay's position. Where the hell had that come from? Johnson dashed aside and easily escaped the bolt's impact point, but the sheer force of it rocked the surrounding area, sending him to the ground with violent shockwaves. No sooner had he recovered than he found himself rolling aside to dodge small boulders and rocks coming down from the mountain. The mission had been going so smoothly so far, but now things had really gone to hell. Hopefully Jay had survived through all of this or else they were going to be in a real bind, not that they weren't already, but still. There was no time to search for him; the priority for now was to deal with the living mountain somehow. It probably couldn't be killed, but Johnson could at least distract it or slow it down, giving the other heroes time to finish the job. Drawing a grenade in one hand while grasping his sword in the other, Johnson quickly scaled a nearby boulder and leapt from there to the roof of a nearby building. He sprinted from one rooftop to the next, many collapsing around or behind him as boulders continued to rain down. The mountain raised one of its great arms for a swipe at Johnson, but with its enormous size one could see the path that the swing would take long before it actually connected. Johnson continued moving forward and to one side, favoring the side farthest away from the incoming mountain-arm, and was able to escape its trajectory just before it slammed into him. With a few more leaps Johnson found himself finally near to the mountain's tree-covered sides. He approached and armed the grenade, warding off branches with his sword as he did so; when he got near enough for a good shot, he hurled the incendiary grenade deep into the forest on the side of the mountain. The trees nearest the impact erupted in flames, prompting Johnson to turn around as part of the mountain quickly became an inferno. Edited by CATZ, Jul 13 2011, 06:33:47 PM.
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| Joel | Jul 14 2011, 04:14:42 PM Post #40 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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"Thanks. You should see what I can do in a city where the buildings are made of metal." Oh god that was a big bolt. And it was coming right towards him. He gravity-jumped backwards, away from certain death. Being in the air when the huge bolt hit the ground really lessened the impact he felt, but it was still a massive disturbance in the magetic fields. That may have just been his gravitational awareness, though. Hmmm. Where did that bolt come from? He would have to find out soon. Johnson was distracting the mountain-creature-monster-thing, which left him free to finish the crushing of the city. He tapped the staff against the ground and continued crushing the city with the metal wall. He really hoped that the other heroes on this mission would know to get to the center. Maybe he should stop to give them some time? Yeah. The outer parts of the city were where almost all the people lived anyway. In the meantime, he would find out where that bolt came from. "Johnson!" he yelled. "I'm gonna stop to give the others some time to get here. I'll find out where that bolt came from." He looked at the angle that the bolt had embedded itself in the ground and launched himself in that direction, scanning for anyhting that could have launched something that big. He didn't have to search for long: a structure that probably used to be a bunker. It was undergound, but there was a gaping hole right above it, giving it away. Jay went in for a closer look and noticed a person inside the used-to-be bunker. He landed. "Was it you who fired the bolt?" |
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| rn7 | Jul 14 2011, 05:15:23 PM Post #41 |
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Supreme Commander
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From that distance, the guitarist noticed that the giant bolt wasn't a bolt at all, but rather a massive stick of dynamite. The rope was no tether at all-- it was a long wick designed to light the giant explosive. This was a great opportunity to sabotage both birds with one great, big, explosive stone. But just as the guitarist was just about to light the fuse, a person walked in on him, asking who he was. With no interest in blowing his cover nor talking with this new encounter, the guitarist picked up his weapon-filled guitar case. He pointed it at the man, then fired a rocket from the case. He then spun the guitar around so that it rested on his shoulder, and filled the air with fully-automatic gunfire. |
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| Joel | Jul 14 2011, 06:42:39 PM Post #42 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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The question that Jay had asked was more rhetorical than anything. There was no real reason he should have asked it; he didn't really expect an answer. What he expected even less was for a rocket to come flying out of that guitar case at his head. He ducked, only to see the man firing an automatic gun at him. Jay made a fist with his hand, crumpling the gun and bullets into a single mass of metal. "I'm going to take that as a yes," said Jay calmly. "Now, why did you do it?" He said, turning the mass of metal into a large, sharp spike and pointing it at the man. |
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| rn7 | Jul 14 2011, 07:47:36 PM Post #43 |
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Supreme Commander
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The guitarist stared at the metal spike pointed at him. It wasn't nearly as large as he expected. After all, he only fired some suppressive shots of smaller caliber ammo. The metal man must have stolen metal from elsewhere to improve this weapon. Half of his concentration would have went to fusing together the various pieces of the spike, especially since each had varying amounts of ferrous content. The rest of his concentration would go to throwing the spike. Uneven weight balance would make it hard for the spike to stay on axis. Young'uns, no forethought, only theatrics. The guitarist slowly raised both his hands, as if in surrender. Fascinating reaction time and power. It made old timers like him both depressed and angered that the new recruits were less hardened in battle and more engineered in training. Flicking his pinky finger, he opened one of his cases, letting all of the weapons pile out. Most of the weapons were crumpled up into balls, by virtue of being made of ferrous metals. But there were some that did survive-- those nonmetal or having not enough metal content to matter. The guitarist nudged his foot onto a flare gun, sending a little spark whizzing past the magnetic magician and hitting the giant fuse. The wick lit up, and the fire sped along down the wire. "You must have friends in that town. You'd better stop that fuse, or you won't have a town any more." |
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| Joel | Jul 15 2011, 01:13:36 PM Post #44 |
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You can call me Joel. Averagejoel.
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Without another word, Jay twisted all the metal into a smaller metal barrier, which he placed around the other man. He then moved both guitar cases far out of his reach. He grimaced inwardly: there was just barely enough room for him to breathe. He could come back here later: the man wasn't going anywhere. There was a more pressing matter to attend to. Jay Gravity-Jumped toward the enormous stick of dynamite, which now had almost the entire team of heroes nearby. This was bad. What could he do? He couldn't extinguish fire. But he could cut through the wick. He sharpened the end of his metal pole into a few points on the side: a saw. He then proceeded to cut through the wick near the stick. In a couple seconds, it was done. There was no more wick on the massive Ballista Bolt/Stick of Dynamite, and the wick which he held in his hands was burning up. Throwing the wick on the ground, Jay jumped back to the place that used to be a bunker, only to find the absence of anyone. The man had disappeared. The sheet of metal had also gone, as had the spike and one of the guitar cases. There was no way he could have gotten out of the metal band. Maybe he could turn invisible? It would explain the disappearance of all the stuff. Well, the man couldn't do any damage with his arms pressed against his sides like that. Jay left to continue shrinking the metal wall surrounding the city. |
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| Nova | Jul 17 2011, 02:41:46 AM Post #45 |
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Administrator
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Gilliam's first response was: alert. Instead of defending himself from the onrush of boulders and heavy swipes, Gilliam thrust his sword into the air and fired a stream of shining, white ki into the clouds. The ki formed a ball when the tail of the stream caught up to the head, and then it dissipated. A signal. Here I am. Come here. He hoped the others would see it; but even as Gilliam did this, Jay and Johnson vanished, and he was left alone. No sign of Alan, Horn, Lazarus, or the others. The mountain was flailing its arms and opening and closing its toothless mouth, as though in pain, though it made no sound. Ironic that such a large creature was also so quiet, but he supposed that there would be no point to giving Elementals the ability to speak. Then again, he saw no point in its having a mouth, either. Okay, now for phase B: to actually dispose of this thing. His first idea was to strike at its heart, but he didn't know if it had a heart, or even a core, or any organs at all. In fact he didn't know where it would be most vulnerable. How would one defeat something like a mountain? He came up with no answer; he had never given it any thought. He had no leads. He could climb to the top and strike at the head, but if that did nothing, he'd just be putting himself in danger. What, then? As though responding to his question, another ballista bolt soared through the air and thundered to the ground several feet away from him; the bolt made a snapping motion, as if it were going to break in two, but instead it slid across the granite and sounded with a loud, metallic twang. Gilliam was quick to react. He lunged for the bolt, as if it might be snapped away from his reach, and he threw his sword to the ground simultaneously; it had no scabbard, so he couldn't keep it. Then, using his broad hands to raise the bolt above his head, he aimed for the beast's throat--or what he assumed was its throat. He couldn't be sure, but this way, he didn't have to get close, and he didn't have to waste ki. The mountain was already distracted by something (Gilliam couldn't tell what); he hoped that his attack would confuse it even more, and then he could take it out in one go. He muttered: "Here goes nothing!" and hurled the bolt through the air. Though his hands lacked the preicison and range of a ballista, he had a large target, and the bolt headed straight for the side of the creature's throat. Gilliam didn't bother to check whether he had hit; the moment the bolt left his hands, he began to run, weaving through parts of the destroyed city while keeping his eye open for living strays, and rushed with all his speed toward the foot of the mountain. It was large and strong, but he was certainly faster. As he ran up toward the base of the mountain, he saw a figure standing near a burning forest on the mountain's back--Johnson. That explained what had distracted it. "Oi!" he called. "Another one coming up!" |
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7:34 PM Jul 11