Withdraw seeding forms

[Cfavano]

"Thanks, I'll be sure to look there." Elgold says, folding and pocketing the paper as he walks out into the fresh air. He was about to head towards the docks when he heard it...The crack of gunfire. Now, he's been in seedy places where people get shot or shot at, and someone was recently shot, but this...this sounded different. Instead of one or two, or even a few shots, it sounded more like a war was going on. Add to that the screams and the smell of smoke, along with the cold chill running down his spine...something was amiss. Elgold did the one thing most normal people wouldn't. He headed towards the screaming, with all haste.

People were running in the opposite direction when he got there, and he had to avoid being trampled. Men in hoods and Men in Masks were slaughtering the townspeople. Elgold took stock of the situation, A mechanical abomination, along with a windrunner and a strange boy were fighting them. In one part of his mind, a little voice told him he had more important things to do, that they seemed to have the situation in hand. Then...he heard her scream. He didn't see her at first, and he only barely heard her, but that was enough.

He drew his blade, and the magic in it flared to life as he spoke his armor's command word. It turned red, and he ran. He ran with speed impossible for a man, let alone in full armor. He was a red blur among the chaos. One second has passed. He passes by Prime and Aero, not turning to look at them, or even speak a word. The girl's screams become louder in his ears. Two seconds have passed. He passes by hoods and masks, barreling over them, leaving them confused. Three seconds have passed. He finds the alley from whence the screams emanate. A mask was bearing down on a little girl, no more than 12. The bodies lay in front of her, eviscerated. Four seconds have passed. The mask raises its sword to strike as Elgold lets out a mighty roar. The mask turns to face him and raises his gun, but by the time he does, Elgold is upon him. From his hands, holy light is channeled into his blade, signifying the activation of his Justice blade. Five seconds have passed. With a mighty swing, the blade slices the figure in half, the energies holding it to this plane dissipate, and it disappears. Six seconds have passed, and Elgold deactivates his armor, returning it to its pale blue hue.

The girl is still in shock. Elgold goes to comfort her, but then he hears the footsteps behind him. Instinctively, he shields her with his body as he ducks with her into a doorway as bullets plink against the stone.He takes a quick look, before having to duck back into the doorway. Three hoods are advancing, taking cover as they do and firing at him, attempting to keep him pinned. The girl tries to make herself as small as possible, while covering her ears, flinching at every shot. Elgold does not hesitate. He leaps outward from the doorway, going through the motions of spell casting as he does. The hoods take aim and one manages to shoot, glancing his cheek once. As Elgold hits the ground, a ball of holy flame erupts from his hands, streaking down the alley. The Hoods attempt to run, but they are not fast enough as it erupts among them, engulfing them all in a blessed conflagration. Their ammunition cooks off with loud bangs, and all that remains are charred corpses.

Seeing that his enemies are dead, Elgold goes to tend to the child.

[Sonic]

Samson never thought this was a game. He would never degrade the freedom he presently felt to the whims of a child’s toy. Nevertheless, he thought that he had won something, not necessarily freedom because he didn’t think freedom could be won, but certainly something close to it. Independence, perhaps.

And then The Bitch had to ruin it.

When Rhiana’s first mental shockwave hit him, he thought that it had come from someone else. He couldn’t believe that the puny girl could deal such a blow, but when he turned around there was no doubt that she had dealt it. He cried out in that primitive way that the dumb have of crying out—mostly gargling noises and grumbling—and tried to reach for Rhiana.

But his limbs felt heavy. His knee fell to the ground. He clamped his hands over his ears as if trying to block out her voice, but of course it was no use. She wasn’t speaking to him; she was speaking in him. The difference was thin, but the pain that came with it was excruciating. Samson tried to fight back; he fed her with his own thoughts and it seemed to inflict some degree of pain to her, but certainly not as much as the pain that she inflicted onto him.

He realized that he had never felt such power before and the realization made him weak, not with fear but with astonishment. He felt his mind squish together, as if someone were folding it into a very tiny box. His cry heightened into an amazing pitch; blood and phlegm dripped from his nostrils and into his mouth.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” And on and on Samson went. With each pronunciation Samson inched closer to Rhiana until he was just within an arm’s breadth. If I die, Samson thought. We die.

That’s when the dagger hit him in the nape of his neck. The impact weakened his defenses against Rhiana; his arms fell to the ground and he began to convulse miserably. Froth foamed around his mouth and then he was still, his eyes wide open as if in death.

The person who had thrown the dagger stood at the entryway of the prison. He was shrouded in dark clothing and a hood was pulled below his eyes. He raised this latter garment to reveal azure eyes and hair that reflected the color of Winter, of snow, and of antiquity all at once. Yet, his features were smooth, which befitted a man who was only in his mid twenties. His visage did not change when his dagger found Samson’s neck. From behind him there appeared several others who were similarly dressed. They circled the Warden, daggers at the ready, preparing for a fight if the Warden decided to give one.

[shadowhawk95]

Part 1: The Choice of Path
It was just another long and dreary... day? Night? Rei couldn't tell in this world, The World That Never Was, it was also so dark that it was difficult to distinguish what is Morning, and what is Night Time. Rei was walking around the... lonely parts of this world, then again in her mind and persepctive of living here for so long; everything in The World That Never Was happened to be a lonely area. But there was one particular spot that somehow... had kept her safe throughout the year of living in this Dark World. It was a cathedral clock tower in the center of the city area, tall yet somehow soothing to Rei, like she'd always preferred those types of places. "Another day of sweeping up Heartless... another day to relax in my hideout." Rei thought to herself as she began jumping through the roofs of buildings, once in sprinting distance of the cathedral clock tower she began closing the gap. The speed needed was valuable, and any second wasted against incoming heartless would just slow her down.

Just about a minute later of sprinting up the tower, Rei had laid down in the small opening that allowed her body to be laid out in peace in order to sleep for the... night? "Sometimes... I wish I could do more." Rei thought to herself as her eyelids slowly became as heavy as lead, once the eyelids had shut closed, she began spiraling into a very weird dream. Somehow, the had woken up in what seemed like a Station, illuminated by an unknown source of light, looking around it seemed as if this place was alone and nothing in sight. "What kind of dream is this?" Rei thought, then after about 30 Seconds had passed by, a voice began to speak as a wise old man would.

"So much to do, so little time... Take your time. Don't be afraid." A pause came to be after those words were spoken, the voice seemed familiar yet somehow so unknown, it spooked Rei slightly but managed to stay calm. Another few seconds had passed, the voice came back, "The door is still shut. Now, step forward. Can you do it?"

The voice needed not to repeat itself again, Rei did not know why it asked her to step forward but she did so obediently. Looking around, she wondered what would happen, that was when three clouds of see-through mist appeared in three different spots, Rei looked around to see what were they and thus, three pedestals appeared from the mist clouds. The voice spoke once more, "Power sleeps within you. If you give it form... It will give you strength. Choose well."

The first thing that ran through Rei's mind was that this was some sort of test, but a test of what? For what? That was what Rei needed to figure out, and what appeared in the three pedestals also bewildered her to an extent. A Broadsword, similar yet smaller and looked slightly lighter than her own swords appeared on one. A Mystic Wand appeared on a second pedestal, it seemed to give the vibe of wonder, curiosity, some strangely enough: Ruin. Then on the last pedestal, a Shield had appeared and gave the aura of a friendly one. The shield in her mind symbolized protection, aid and kindness to all, it was not in Rei's intention to protect anybody... she much preferred the destruction of everything. Walking towards the pedestal that contained the Broadsword, she grinned and leaped onto it.

Upon landing on the pedestal, the voice spoke out once more. "The power of the warrior. Invincible courage. A sword of terrible destruction." It said to Rei, she seemed to grin a little more but then put though into the weapon, she seemed at peace with what this choice would bring. Rei would be able to travel around the worlds, causing extreme casualties and destruction, it was something that deep in her heart... she had always longed for in a sense. The voice then asked, "Is this the power you seek?" Rei could simply look around, then realized that there was nobody else there again. She simply stated with a proud voice, "Yes!"

The Broadsword disappeared from Rei's hand, the voice spoke out as if it was a mechanical response: "Your path is set." After a brief pause, it then gave a question to Rei, "Now, what will you give up in exchange?" Rei looked at the other two pedestals, one with a Shield, another with a Mystic Wand. The choice seemed somehow...deliberately difficult to make, why? Because Rei had this deep desire and longing for somebody to accept her, the Shield represented that longing, the Mystic Wand represented the curiosity she demonstrated which had lead to the ruin of Traverse Town, though she did not have any clear memory of Traverse Town, nor her past for that matter. All that was shown at that moment when looking at the Wand, were glimpses of the city being overrun by Heartless, and a little girl crossing out of the world of Traverse Town. It was then that Rei had made her choice, she went to the pedestal where the Mystic Wand laid, jumped on it and held it in her hand, high above her persona.

The voice responded to her holding the Mystic Wand, "The power of the mystic. Inner strength. A staff of wonder and ruin. You give up this power?" Once the question was asked, Rei needed not hesitate her decision. She wanted to forget everything pertaining to that glimpse, and willing to give this power up, she declared boldly: "Yes!" The Mystic Wand then disappeared from her hand, and one more question was asked by this voice, "Is this the form you choose?" Rei immediately said in response to that question, "Yes!"It almost seemed like Rei herself had become an answering machine just like the voice. Upon answering, all of the pedestals had tilted down into the ground, and Rei was abruptly thrown into the floor. It was then that the Glass Floor illuminated by the unknown source of light shattered and collapsed. Rei feel through without a sound.

Somehow, Rei saw that under the shattered glass floor while falling down to a possible endless abyss, there was another glass floor, illuminated again by an unknown source of light. As Rei had begun landing down to the floor, it seemed as if that she was floating safely into place rather than about to suffer a fatal fall into the ground. She stood there, at the edge of the illuminated glass floor, and for some weird reason the Broadsword she had chosen as her path appeared in her hands. The voice spoke out again, though this time it sounded like a motherly tone and sweet, serene, loving. "You've gained the power to fight." Rei didn't understand what that comment had actually meant, but she took the time to actually use her Horizontal Sword Skill Ability. After applying the skill, there was no response from the voice like she had just hoped for. Though, a minute had passed, and the voice had come back with a new message once more: "Use this power to protect yourself and others." It was as if, the message was applying something... strange here. Rei then noticed some Heartless crawl up from the darkness, "Shadows... but how?" It was then that the voice spoke again, a little worried in its tone but overall the same message would be interpreted. "There will be times you have to fight. Keep your light burning strong."

It was then that the Shadow Heartless' were lunging towards Rei without mercy, small as they may be, the Shadow Heartless can gain an upper hand just by easily swarming their prey. At this time, there were only two of them, why only two though? Rei attempted to process this but the enemy did not let her, one hit her on the chest and she landed on the floor. "Shit, I can't let this little detail distract me... I need to fight back... NOW!" Rei scolded herself mentally as she back flipped into the air and landed on her feet. The heartless seemed to enjoy stalking their prey but what they didn't know was they were lined up, and that was an opportunity for Rei to capitalize on at that moment. Digging her feet slightly into the ground, she dashed out with great speed and used the skill Zantetsuken on both the heartless. Causing them both to dissipate. Things seemed to look calm when it came to that ending, Rei knew it was too good to be true, had her dream finally come to a close? No, Rei's dream did not come to a close and in fact, that was just the beginning of it. Darkness grew upon the floor Rei was standing out, sucking her into it and literally trying to claw her way up without a ledge to grab onto, Rei faded into the darkness.

Additional Note: I will have the character template up later during the night (this is just a sample of an older post I made), and by no means is my Character Template going to be related to this Seeding Post.

[Iwazuma]

"For those about to die, I salute you."

This war, this endless, agonizing war, had drawn on long enough. Claer, her raven hair streaming down her back, caked with blood, gore, and sweat, eyed down the last foe standing on the battlefield. Her amber eyes searched the figure, trying to find any relevant weak spot, any sort of way to attack, to approach, but found none. The figure's face, obscured by his hood, slowly stepped forward, an unearthly laughter coming from the opening. "So after ten years of stalemates, even battles, and a final assault, this is the last thing standing in my path to the world? A girl with a sword? This is almost pitiable. Run, run back to your family. The gates of Erenthall will fall, and I shall assume my place as its ruler."

Claer's eyes teared up with his reminder of her family. Her mother, so sweet and kind, her father, stern but loving. For a moment, she almost felt their protective arms around her as she trembled in her boots. He was playing to her fears and her worries, trying to sway her will. Claer gripped her claymore tighter, standing her ground as the powerful, dangerous man drew closer. She would not be deterred. "I can't run away to my family." Her voice was quiet at first, but she suddenly raised her voice, fury evident in her shout. "Because you killed them!" She wanted nothing more but to rush the man, cleave him in half with a single swipe of her heavy blade, but she did not. She would not lose herself to anger and violence. To defeat the enemy of Erenthall, she would have to stand tall, think fast, and fight harder than she has ever fought before.

"So many innocents have died in their quest to protect this land from you...but no more!" Claer grit her teeth as the grip on her claymore tightened further; if she was not wearing gauntlets, she was certain she would see her knuckles turning white. The man continued to approach, step by step...Claer began to make out features of the man: the white strands of hair peeking out beneath his hood, the intricate, ornate designs that decorated his black armor. He had already proven his strength with the slaughter of the entire army, but even without that she could feel his aura. He was more powerful than anyone she had ever seen before.

Silence now as the foes began their approach. His steady steps did not falter; Claer slowly began to walk towards him as well, her eyes peeled for any trickery, any deception. And yet, he did not make a move. A light chuckle could be heard from the hood as he drew closer; his confidence was apparent in his gait, his powerful stride, the way he had yet to draw his weapon. Claer spotted it on his back; it was as black as his armor, nearly indistinguishable were it not for the handle of pure, white bone. It looked like it had bathed in blood many times. Claer held out her claymore, the blade's tip pointing at the man's heart....if he even had one.

Ten feet separated them now. Here, the man stopped, eyeing his opponent for seemingly the first time. He was a good foot taller than her, which did not help her intimidation. She almost looked like a child compared to him, a child facing down the much stronger parent. His hand reached behind him, and there was a light scraping of metal as his sword was brought out to greet her. Claer winced at the sound, a bit of a screeching noise that grated against her ears.

"So be it," the monster said. "Such meaningless sacrifice, but...if you do not wish to move, I will remove you from my path." In a surprise act, Claer was taken off guard as he bowed respectfully, an act of chivalry she would never have expected. She mechanically bowed back, her eyes never leaving her opponent as she bent her torso towards the ground. Formalities over, she took on her fighting stance, one leg slightly in front of the other. For what felt like the longest time, there was silence on the battlefield, nothing but the stench of blood permeating the tension.

And then all at once, it began. The man rushed forward with blinding speed, slashing his sword at her midsection in an attempt to end the fight as it began. Claer managed to block the strike with her blade, but nearly dropped it as the ricochet sent vibrations all up her arm. He was powerful. Too powerful. Just what had she tried to stop?

(Working on my character as we speak! Should be done in a few hours!)

[Emet]

Silva grinned and hugged Jenna tight. “Glad to see you’re okay.” He looked at Nemo approvingly. “Got my little girl back in one piece, I see. You’ll make a good addition to the house yet.”

Jenna sat at the table, giving a quick look to the paints to make sure they were all in the appropriate places before grabbing up a bottle and squirting some of the paint onto a dirty wooden pallet and setting to work. Silva put a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “I told you that if you got back in time, I’d set you up with an extracurricular, right?” He led Nemo out into the backyard.

Yard was a generous term. It was more of an alley that had never been paved, and walled off on two sides. It was filled with junk, but not in a disorderly manner. Everything had a place it belonged, even if it didn’t really look worth keeping. “Just in case you were wondering, I’m not a hoarder,” Silva said defensively. “I’m a collector.”

He gestured towards the yard. “So, pick something.”

Nemo blinked, confused.

Silva sighed. “People, even amnesiacs, have an unconscious form of memory. They naturally gravitate towards things that seem familiar, or enjoyable, even if they can’t identify why. Marco, Steve, and Jenna all picked something from this pile, and they’ve stuck with what they drew.” Silva smiled like an idiot, looking on his piles of random objects. “So, pick something.”

Nemo started to pick through the piles, wondering where Silva had found the time to gather and transport it all, and marveled at the odd organizational scheme. He threw a small metal cup behind him and sighed with exasperation. How was any of this supposed to be interesting? The cup hit the top of a pile, sending it toppling.

Silva’s eyes widened with horror. “No, no no no no!” The pile landed on another one, and gravity took care of the rest. Within 30 seconds every tower of trash had become a part of the chaotic domino chain. When the dust cleared, almost nothing remained standing in the yard. Silva’s face reflected the state of his beloved junk piles perfectly. Nemo slowly picked up the metal cup and carefully set it back in place.

He was about to apologize when something caught his eye from just outside his vision. A metal band had rolled out from one of the trash heaps, parts glinting through the grime in the sun. Although dirty, it’s silver surface didn’t appear to be tarnished. Nemo picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He thought that if he cleaned it he might even be able to tell what it was supposed to be.

Silva solemnly placed a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “Well whatever that is, I’m glad you found something you like. Go wash it off upstairs. I’ll… I need a minute.” His head drooped.

Nemo started to apologize. “I─”

Silva held up a finger. “There are no words.”

Nemo took his newfound prize inside. Jenna glanced up, a headphone dangling from one ear. “Everything okay? I heard banging.” He turned towards the window looking out into the yard. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, I can see out the window. What did you─” she stopped short as he took off up the stairs, face burning. The sounds of drums were leaking through the ceiling. Marco seemed to be hard at work.

Nemo took the mystery object into the bathroom and set to cleaning it. It was covered in mud, clumps of it obscuring its form. Those were easy enough to take care of on their own, but they didn’t seem to have been wet with water to start. The whole thing smelled suspiciously of grape soda, leading Nemo to wonder if the piles of junk had indeed just been trash. He grabbed some bleach from under the sink and started to remove the cap from the bottle.

~No! Not bleach! Bad idea!~

Nemo jumped at the voice. He looked towards the door, but no one was there. He looked at the bracer. …No. Couldn’t be. He put the bleach away all the same and started up the tap, filling the basin with hot water. He put the bracer in to soak. It was definitely a stylized something, although he couldn’t say what exactly just yet. It was about five inches long, and big enough that if he wanted to he could wear it comfortably. If anything, you may have found somebody’s costume jewelry. He decided to check in on Jenna downstairs while he waited.

She was deep in concentration, her brush a blur across the canvas as she blended oils together effortlessly. She was painting a landscape from what Nemo could tell, a mountain looming over a field, a few trails carved through the land leading towards the blank parts of the canvas. She saw him looking and hastily covered it. “Do you mind? I don’t like performing for an audience.” He raised his hands defensively and headed back up. Steven was just leaving his room.

Steven raised a hand in greeting, smiling. “How’s it going, man?” he asked, good-humored. Nemo managed not to stare at the patch covering his eye this time.

“Not bad, Steve. Found a thing in the garbage. How’s the eye?”

Steven looked out the window and laughed. “You did that?” He turned back to Nemo and lifted the patch. It was red and swollen, and the area around it was purple and shiny, but the eye itself was clear. “I finally got it to open today, and the surgery to bring my good looks back is tomorrow.” He grinned, full of excitement.

Nemo’s own mouth widened in a smile, and he decided he liked Steven. “Fantastic! I’ll make sure to write something funny on the cast.”

Steve shook his head, still grinning, and headed down to the kitchen. “I’m sure I’ll get enough of that from Jenna. She’ll probably paint me up like a sarcophagus in my sleep.”

Nemo laughed and walked back to the bathroom. He pulled the bracer out of the sink and wiped it off with a cloth, dirt and grime clinging to the fuzzy surface. The soda smell was gone, and all that was really left was to polish it. He rolled it over, something nagging at the back of his mind about it. It was as its face turned to him that he realized it, dropping it with a start. It was the serpent from his dream on the plane. The emerald eyes flickered.

~It’s about time that you found me, Unsung.~

Nemo dropped it back into the basin. No no no. No. Bracelets don’t talk. This isn’t the thing from my dream, and I’m not crazy. He rolled his eyes. Unsung. Whatever that means. He grabbed up the bracer again only for the eyes to flash once more.

~Hey, could you not drop me this time? Immortal serpent or not, that still hurts. Speaking of, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to put bleach on metal? Oxidizes the hell out of it.~

His heart started racing and he reached out for the counter to steady himself. “Okay. So. Monster goat men and talking bracelets.”

~I’m a gauntlet, thank you.~
“Right, sorry. Gauntlet.” If I’m addressing it, might as well let it call the shots. He walked back into his room, polishing at it absentmindedly.

~That feels incredible after a 60 years in a dump. Then Specks outside finds me and takes me back as part of his ‘collection’.~

Nemo shut the door and flopped face first onto his bed. It was too much. That thing in the subway had been one thing. He might even have believed his own gas leak story if he didn’t remember the sickening scream. But this? This was irrefutable.

“So, what do I call you?” he asked it quietly. No sense in worrying the others by talking to jewelry in public.

The gems glimmered in a matter that seemed almost proud. ~I am the World Serpent, Jormungand. I am Apep, the Crawler in Chaos. Pretty much every mention of a giant snake involves me. And more importantly, I am your most loyal friend, Unsung.~

Well. That was certainly a lot to take in. Nemo’s mythology was a little rusty, considering the patches of memory missing from most of his life, but those were things that certainly sounded important. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

It sighed, although how it managed to do that without lungs or a body was beyond him.

~You are the Unsung. The Nameless. The hero that goes Unmentioned. Something else with capitals in the middle of sentences, I’m sure. It’s just a part of who you are, and the title that those of us who recognize you use to identify you, as you are indeed… you know, nameless.~

Nemo wondered briefly how it was possible for a metal snake to come off as snide.

[TheDoctor]

Come wind, come snow, come winterland.

The maw of oblivion snapped shut, a sign of rejection from the endless abyss. It was not his time, not now. Not yet. The material realms still demanded his presence. He knew not why, or even how, and yet their call was unambiguous. Answers he searched for, but more questions he found. All he could rely on was that of his own twisted soul.

I have resigned myself to death.

A solid surface coalesced beneath his darkened boots, the tails of his midnight black coat billowing gently before a plain of snow. The land was caked with a thin layer of ice, and yet through this ice he could see the patterned tile below. The tripolar transcription of fish gazed with empty eyes upon the milky, clouded sky above. Gentle flakes drifted across his vision, not enough to hinder it but plenty to provide a serene ambiance of peace.

And on the other side stood another figure. Shorter and smaller than that of his own, this stranger resembled a boy at first glance. However, his wrinkled face and worn skin seemed to imply age and wisdom, along with physical discipline. Humble cloth and a belt of various trinkets constructed his attire. His overall appearance embodied a peaceful lifestyle, but appearance alone was not so bold as to deliver such judgment. No, this creature was not to be brushed aside.

Come will to show the hidden hand.

He knew not why he moved upon the stage. He knew not why he navigated towards the fish farthest from the small stranger. He knew not what drove him to participate in this intwining of fates. What little knowledge he had of his situation was limited to the environment and that of his own abilities. No matter how prevalently he pushed upon the mists that clouded his memory, they refused to yield, shrouding him in the mystery of amnesia.

An anonymous thirst for blood nudged him ever so lightly down the path of conflict, and that angered him more than anything. What deity dared to play him such a fashion? What had the nerve to toy with his desires and memories, to make his hunger for knowledge be sated only through murder?

He would see this through to the end. He would find this omniscient game master at the end of his travels. And he would rend this being’s entity by force, drink its seeping aether, and brand his name into its crippled mind.

Emonalach.

So I can draw my final breath.

The moment his boot touched the crusted ice over the mosaic fish, the patterned leviathan illuminated with a gentle sapphire aura. His twisted grey eyes leveled upon the half-man as his lips moved wordlessly, but not without speech. What flowed from his throat was not a language known to any, and to call it a language at all would be an insult to its impossible sound. Limiting such a chant to societal communication would parallel to classifying the sounds of nature; such an act is impossible. Rather, the guttural fluctuations and airy vibrations were felt more than they were heard. They embodied the power at the Fallen’s hands, the immeasurable disharmony at his unnatural voice.

Snowflakes melted as they encountered the warmth that radiated from the enchanter, but such a warmth was only a harbinger for what was to come.

[Technitius]

Viram looked around, and upon realizing he wasn’t in his home, he panicked he ran around everywhere he could go, looking for an exit, but to no prevail. He heard a voice he recognized, but had no face to. “Viram, you have been chosen to partake in these games of mine, if you win, I will allow you to live forever and in power, but if you lose, your soul will be used to feed my monsters,” the voice had said. “Where are you? What are you? And what are these games that you speak of?” Viram asked the voice. “I have no physical form, and I only exist slightly in my followers and monsters, I have no name, and I have no being, I’m just energy, scattered across reality, I used to be a god, at least, until the others all waged war on me. These games are determining certain things for me, seeing where the best people come from, and where the worst do, this isn’t the first game, nor is it the last, these games have been going on for as long as humanity has been. I hope you're nearly ready, your first trial comes in an hour,” the voice said, before leaving in a gush of wind.


Viram then wandered down a hall, following markings that looked like arrows. He found a room that was completely inside, and seemed like an armory. He grabbed a simple dagger, and ate food and had his fill of water. He then rested on a bed, he simply closed his eyes and lied there.


Soon, he heard the grinding of two stones and looked up to see the entrance lock itself with stone and the other door to open. He stepped out of room and saw one other step out, wearing a full suit of armor, and in front of them, were stone pillars which led to one in the middle, which contained an artifact. The voice had returned and said, “This is the first round for all 16 of you, after this match, there will only be 8, it is simple, go across the stone pillars to reach the middle and be the first to grab the artifact, if you don’t get it, you die. Ready? Set? GO!” The other person was much slower, owing to the fact he wear large armor and carried a broadsword. Viram quickly took the lead and almost fell a few times, but was then under fire by arrows. He looked over at his opponent, who was constantly firing arrows at Viram, and was still wearing his armor. Viram managed to get to the middle and grabbed the artifact, and all the other stone pillars dropped. The doors on the walls that nobody came through then opened, and many creatures came out. They all ran in the direction of his opponent and ripped him apart, and consumed his soul. Those creatures, after they were finished eating the soul and body, then returned to the doors and went inside before the doors closed again. The pillar he was on then lowered itself to let Viram leave through a golden archway.

The voice had come back once more, “Congratulations, you eight made it through, but there are more trials to be had to see who the best is, you will rest for 2 days, and then your second trial will begin, and then there will only be four. Don’t even bother training for it, I don’t decide which it will be until the day it is. You will be supplied with food and drink and a fully stocked armory if you ever decide to use it. Good luck for you next trial.”

[Dire Hoef]

[// see original post here]

The Arrival of a Behemoth

A electromagnetic disturbance. A disturbance in the natural forces of the world. Reality warped around this area of untouched space. A small crater was created, and a tall figure stood with smoke emitting off of his body. The figure was kneeling before it stood to his feet crashing its head onto the ceiling of a lobby. The figure wondered where it was and how it got here, but that was far from its concern.

'What is going on here,' thought the figure as he emerged from the lobby out unto the ruined street before him. His chainsword was filled with Daemonic blood and his bolter smelled of steel and blood. "Where is the chapter, where is the squad," said the space marine out loud, "Where are the Heretics, the Daemons, where are the hell are they!?" He wanted to know where in galaxy he was. Was this a planet within Imperial hands? It didn't seem like it. He didn't believe this was an Imperial planet, because it didn't harbor the same technological export any civilized planet would have carried. But then again that statement was always flexed to an unimaginable degree.

The behemoth's steps echoed throughout the streets of Detroit. This would signal any and all foes that wish to execute him. But even with his obvious apparel and flamboyant disregard of stealth, the space marine held his ground wanting answers. But as he would soon find out, he won't receive any.

The Arrival of a Soldier

Another disturbance. But this time it was different. It didn't come from the future or from another dimension. But rather it came from a drop-ship that flew overhead and came to land at a specific landing zone. This zone was clear of any obvious signs of enemy activity, but the operative in charge of executing this mission would be keeping his out for any signs of enemy movement.

As the operative came off the drop ship the pilot radioed the operative in via ear-device +You'll be fighting some rogue assailants from an unknown organization. Currently our intel says that their in this city, and their a threat to the national security of the United Nations. The boss said that the United Nations wants them dead at all cost or else this war will go on forever. Expect heavy resistance down there. Good hunting.+

Terrance Young, aka HUNK, nodded his head as held his right hand to his right ear +Roger that Percival. HUNK out.+

Thus the drop-ship lifted up into the air and flown off into the distance leaving Terrance to secure the perimeter while he assessed his current whereabouts. "The reports said that the enemy was last sighted towards West and Third street," said Terrance quietly, "That's just up ahead... Let's see if they live up to their name." Terrance came up from his cover and rushed down the street with his LK05 in hand. But as he ran down the street he saw a hulking machine standing in the middle of the street dazed and confused. Immediately, Terrance from some place to hide as he watched the machine glance around in confusion. "What the hell is that thing," Terrance asked himself as he wondered what was going here. The reports didn't say a third-party was involved - let alone one of such stature.

The Arrival of the French

Finally. A third disturbance. One that ruptures the fabric of time and space.

A man, dressed in white clothing, emerged from a blue sphere that hung over the current battlefield that was being set up by his supposed teammates. The man fell from the blue sphere and caught himself before crashing into the ground kicking up dust and other particles. This immediately drew the attention of both Terrance and the Space Marine. The space marine was the first to interact with this white-dressed man.

The space marine aimed his bolter at the white-dressed man and the white-dressed man raised his hands halfheartedly, "Whoa there big guy... No need to shoot me... I'm on your side..."

"Are you with the Imperial Guard," asked the space marine not flinching away to lowering his bolter, "Are you!?"

"Yes, yes," exclaimed the white-dressed man, "Now could you put down that massive weapon of yours down... I'm not the one you should be killing at this moment..."

Terrance never left his spot. He watched closely with his weapon drawn just in case these two individuals were hostile.

"Look," said the white-dressed man, "I am with this Imperial Guard, and you're a big dangerous guy... So why not we work together to kill the enemy and go our separate ways?" For a man whose smaller than the space marine, he does have a lot of balls.

"Fine," said the space marine after a moment of pondering, "But if I find out you are a Heretic, I won't hesitate to kill you."

"Fine by me," said the white-dressed man, "Names Acelin by the way."

The space marine was silent. He had refrain from speaking his name.

The Acelin shrugged and came up next to the space marine, "So who is our enemy this time?"

The space marine didn't answer that either.

"Not one for small talk eh," asked Acelin before shaking his head and slipping out Giagan and Triagan, "Well I'm prepared either way. Just note that who ever attacks us is the enemy alright?"

The space marine didn't answer that either.

"Man you're really hard to talk to you know that," said the Acelin with a puffed face. The space marine looked down at the man and Acelin immediately knew he had to shut up, "Shutting up." The space marine returned his sights to his surroundings wondering when the enemy would show up.