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Post by Reno on Feb 18, 2020 2:54:27 GMT
{ BGM: "Never Could Have Been Worse"} You know the drill by this point, don't ya? Yeah, sure ya do. The dry dusty wind beating sand and heat against the sun-bleached, half-derelict buildings on the outskirts of some random ass desert city of some backwoods planet plagued by endless strife. Maybe a terrible ancient war had caused all this misery, ruined the land, scorched it beyond repair. The survivors? Ha, fuck 'em. They'd get by, somehow. They always do. Except for when they don't, but it's not like this place really matters all that much anyway, right? No, certainly not in the grander scheme of things. It may have at one point, far off in some distant past, back when it was a glimmering jewel, blue and pristine, full of life and energy. But not now. Not this empty, dried-out husk. Aye, but not so fast. For such a hellish place, it managed to be rather bustling after all. Lots of folks from all walks of life gathered here in...what was it called? Ah, yes. Nova Fall. Supposedly, the name had some connection to a dire event that occurred during the war of ages past, but what did any of that really matter in the here and now? Not a whit, probably. Anyway, in spite of how superficially awful it was, a great many folks around these parts went so far as to call Nova Fall 'home'. Was it the kind of home where any sensible person would want to raise a loving family? No, not really. But then again, neither was New Jersey, yet people still chose to live in that bubbling cesspit. Savagery and lawlessness ruled in Nova Fall, but it wasn't all-consuming. As long as you knew your role and minded your own business, you'd be safe, generally speaking. Shopkeepers could peddle their wares freely, with little worry, save for the odd ne'er-do-well who might try to help him or herself to a five finger discount. Most merchants packed plenty of heat for such occasions though, so it was actually quite a risky gamble for the paltry reward of a free trinket or two. The real danger came from the criminal syndicates and corporations that set up shop in this place. The outskirts were of little consequence to them, aside from the syndicates' demanding protection fees and what not. Both the corporate types and the syndicate types did most of their respective wheeling and dealing within the inner-city, which was actually considerably more modern and...one might even say 'civilized', than the outskirts. There was even a certain air of law and order, albeit a tenuous one, which wasn't exactly concerned with the interests of the public, so much as those of their bosses and, specifically, their money. You'd know a corporate security officer by their uniforms, which tended to look very much akin to a militarized police force. Syndicate thugs, on the other hand, had a tendency to don dark suits and sunglasses, a sort of secret service vibe, only more menacing and less willing to leap in front of a bullet for a client. Both varieties were mean, ruthless bastards, of course. Largely of the 'shoot first and don't even bother to ask any questions' variety. Criminals, degenerates, malcontents, for the most part. Some were there because they had no other options, others because they enjoyed it. A few had vested interests, loyalties (however misplaced they might be). All in all, the stories weren't particularly new or interesting. They could all pretty well be pieced together from a pool of haphazardly scattered puzzle pieces. This was where we would find our dear Captain Crim El Furaga today. Normally, he'd have just been sitting at the bar of the biggest most run-down dive on the furthest edge of the outskirts of Nova Fall, most likely consuming copious amounts of tequila (or whatever tequila equivalent happened to be on hand) that had absolutely zero effect on him thanks to the accursed Rune of Heaven that adorned his right hand. But a quick look inside the diviest of dives would result in a big goose egg as far as Crim's presence was concerned. Not a trace of his trademark wild blood red hair and disheveled dark blue suit to be found. Strange, indeed. A bit further down the road was a modest shop attached to a warehouse of sorts. All kinds of old parts and assorted other junk lied strewn about the fenced-off yard. Some oversized weapons and mechanical limbs, armor-clad heads. Looked like old mech components. Must be some kind of junk shop. Sure enough, a weathered old sign swung in the wind above the door, reading Micht's Mech Depot. Shortly, Crim emerged from said doorway, followed after by a grizzled older fella wearing mechanic's coveralls and a full tool belt. He was easily a few feet shorter than Crim's lanky six-foot height, and with his full beard and broad facial features, it seemed pretty clear that the mechanic was some manner of dwarven race. Seemed that Nova Fall wasn't just a haven for humans. "And you're sure it'll be safe here?" Crim asked as he pulled a slightly bent cigarette out from his jacket and lit up. "Aye, Crem, aye. Ah swear it on me mothar's beard." Crim took a drag from his smoke and exhaled. "Well, not like I got anywhere else to put it." "Ye could've jus' left it on yer ship, laddie." "Should I have?" The dwarf let out a sigh. "Ye'll do as ye will as always. But ah'll let it be known, thet thing gives me chells to me core. Tis a frightful beast, it is." "Really? Imagine that, old Micht being afraid of a machine, ha ha ha..." "Ach, you and me both know that's no mere machine, ye daft buggar!" "Relax, old man, you'll bust your beard." Crim laughed. " Nothin' to worry about. I'm just here to run a few errands, make a few arrangements, settle some business...you know, the usual. Shouldn't take long. I'll be outta your hair before ya know it." "Aye...ah know what your 'business' entails, laddie. Ain't nothin' 'usual' aboot it." Micht turned around and headed back towards his shop, offering a wave without looking back. "But a'hm too old and prickly to waste tiem arguin' tha point with ye. Go an' handle yer business. Ah'll keep yer bessie hunkered doon here best as ah ken. Jus' try to leave tha city standin' this tiem." The dwarven mechanic disappeared back into his shop, leaving Crim alone on the dusty street. He took another drag from his smoke before flicking it off into the wind, jamming his hands into his pockets, and wandering off in the direction of the city center, where his 'business' was waiting to be 'settled'. "No promises, old man..." Crim said to himself as he left Micht's shop behind. Ha ha ha...no promises, indeed...{ BGM: "Twilight of the Rulers"} A short while later, Crim was sauntering through the artificial canyons of the inner core of Nova Fall, surrounded on all sides by a cacophony of stimuli of every sort. Were it not for the excessive noise and overt visual blare of holographic popup ads, it might actually be a nice place. Well, at least it was clean, and devoid of beggars and bums and other such riff-raff. Capitalism run amok, some might say. Crim might even agree, but that didn't mean he necessarily thought that was a bad thing. Obviously, he was himself very much in the capitalist camp. Which oddly enough seemed to catch a lot of people by complete surprise. He couldn't help but laugh at that level of sheer stupidity. He was the captain of a rogue band of space pirates. Their entire purpose was to go around ripping people off for profit. The main difference was that he didn't bother with any of the boring red tape or lame attempts to make it look like he was doing legitimate business. And really, what even was 'legitimate', anyway? As far as he was concerned, all business was legitimate business. All part of the same game. Some played by the rules, some bent the rules, and some outright shattered them to pieces and then lit the pieces on fire or perhaps dissolved the pieces in acid or something. Point being, Crim did things his own goddamned way. He batted a hovering holoscreen aside as he strolled up to one of the larger buildings - a tower of shining silver metal and gleaming glass that shot up into that cloudless blue sky. Sign out front read pretty clear: Van Cleef Holdings. This was the place, all right. On his approach to the main entrance, he found himself being impeded by a trio of corporate security officers. The ones that were armed up like the military, but only a fraction of the way as trained in most cases. They looked relatively tough, two big burly men, and a rather demure woman. Crim stopped, and they stepped up, the two men out front, chests puffed out, hands behind their backs. By Crim's estimation, they were both around six-foot-eight or so, probably in the vicinity of 280 pounds a piece, mostly muscle. The lady officer stepped forward from behind them. She was barely more than five feet, and that's including the heeled boots she wore. Green hair, kind of spikey, sticking out from her officer's cap. She pushed a pair of round-lens spectacles up on her nose as she glared at Crim with her fiery reddish brown eyes. Crim looked her up and down and smirked. She was cute. "Halt!" The small woman demanded. "Yeah, already did that, sweetheart." Crim replied. "You shall address Sergeant Harriett as SERGEANT HARRIETT!" Bellowed the big lug on the left. "Sir yes SIR!" Both men stomped a foot down and offered a salute before resuming their at ease poses. "Ahem, yes...settle down, Corporal Dilton, Corporal Gilroy..." Sergeant Harriett cleared her throat and continued. "Now, if you don't mind telling me who you are and what your business is here today, sir?" She gave Crim a look that he didn't much care for. Something venomous in it. "Just here to see your boss." "Do you have an appointment?" "Nope." She smiled. It was an empty smile. "Well, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid we don't allow anyone in without an appointment." "Oh yeah? No shit. Welp! Guess I'll hafta turn around and leave, then! Seeya!" Crim spun on his heel and started to walk away...then, like a glitch in reality, he was suddenly gone, with nary but a light gust of wind left in his place. The two corporals seemed rather dumbfounded by this. Sergeant Harriett, on the other hand, was more...irritated. Visibly so. She spun around and leveled her gaze once more upon Crim, who had somehow reappeared behind the trio, headed towards the door at a normal walking speed, casual as can be. "YOU! STOP. RIGHT. THERE!" She shouted, pointing a nightstick at him. Her two lackeys wheeled about, shocked to see that the red-haired space pirate had apparently sneaked past them. Crim gave them a wry glance back over his shoulder before spinning on his heel again to face them. "Aww...looks like ya caught me." "Surrender at once!" Corporal Dilton demanded as he drew what appeared to be some sort of retractable techno-halberd that crackled with blue electrical energy. "At once!" Corporal Gilroy echoed Corporal Dilton in his demand and in his action. Crim just sighed. "Guess we're gonna do this, huh? You gonna dance too, missy?" Crim asked as his vibrant green eyes met the eyes of Sergeant Harriett. "Oh, you better believe I a...u-ugh...!?" She stopped mid sentence, her eyes turning stark white as they rolled back in her head. She fell backward to the ground in a heap, unconscious. "Shame, that. But I really don't like beating up women. Something about that is just so...unwholesome," he looked back and forth between the two idiots. "You guy'sre with me on that, right?" "S-Sergeant Harriett!" They both blurted out in unison as their attention immediately went to her. It was like Crim didn't even exist anymore. "Huh. Guess that's that after all. Sure, I'll take it." And without any bloodshed, Crim made his way into the building. It was nice and cool inside, and lavish, as one would expect from the main floor lobby of a big, semi-shady corporation. Modern art pieces adorned the walls, depicting the usual abstract gibberish that would typically be associated with such gay revelry. A bunch of exotic plants sprouted up throughout the space as well, and they weren't even fake. Keeping plants like these alive in a place like this would cost a pretty penny. These guys didn't mess around. Spared no expense. He laughed aloud as he walked up to the front desk, where alone female sat. And as before, he couldn't help but hit her with his nefarious male gaze. Damn, she had a pair of knockers on her! Cute face, blonde hair, done up real nice. Pointed ears. Not an elf, but some sort of alien species that he couldn't quite pin down... "...ser? Can I help yuu? Ser?" She spoke with a peculiar accent. "Oh, hey there! Haha!" Crim laughed again, scratching the back of his head with his left hand. "Yeah I'm here to see your boss. Milton Van Cleef." "Do yuu...have an appointment?" Crim leaned in over the counter. "Yeah. Tell him Crim El Furaga is here to see him about the contract." "Contract, ser? What contract?" "Confidential stuff. He'll know, don't worry." She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled back. This made her blush a little bit. "Relax, missy. It'll be fine. You can trust me." God actually laughed out loud every time Crim made that particular assurance. But it was good enough for the receptionist, this time. She picked up her desk phone and called up to to the office. Presumably the head honcho's office. Damn well better be. Crim would be pissed off if they sent out another team of dumbasses to try and get in his way. Luck held out though. The receptionist hung up and informed him in that strange yet oddly familiar accent that Mr. Van Cleef would see him. With a final smile and a nod, Crim made his way past the front desk and into one of the express elevators that would take him all the way to the top floor, where the big boss was waiting. { BGM: "Revache & Co."} Or at least that's what he thought. Sure, it took him up to the top, but it wasn't Milton Van Cleef who would be there to greet him. Instead, it was Milton's sniveling rat of a son, Silas Van Cleef. A smug, spoiled, rotten little piece of work. As vile and corrupt as they came, and it was made all the more irritating by his god damned impeccable sense of style. Damn jackass always wore the finest suits, tailored perfectly. Goddamned asshole! Freaking spent a small fortune on looking his best, and today was no exception, as he was fully decked out in a pearl white ensemble with a shimmering gold silk shirt, jet black tie and what appeared to be reptile-skin shoes to match. Fucking hell... "So good of you to show up here, unannounced, my dear Captain..." Silas stood at the far end of the large office, his back to Crim, staring out over the city skyline. He turned around, offering a sinister smirk as he ran a hand through his pompously styled blond hair. "Ah, where are my manners. Would you care for a drink, perhaps?" "Ain't here to talk to you, kid. Where's your pops?" "Ah...yes, well. He's a bit...indisposed at the moment, I'm afraid..." "That your cutesy way of tellin' me you offed him?" Silas looked sideways at Crim as he poured himself a drink from a fancy crystal bottle. "Tsk tsk...come now. Do you really think me so cold as to murder my own pa pa?" "Yes." Crim answered flatly. Silas sighed. "Alas...the deed was not by my hand. Much as I would have liked to claim it so. Credit goes to cancer. Terminal. Such a shame." He took a swig from his snifter. "Huh. Had no idea. But that does explain a lot. I was wondering why your old man would put a bounty out on me. Now I know why. It wasn't him. It was you, you little shit." "Ah-ah-ah, temper temper now...surely you didn't think I'd forget what you did to me that time? As I see it, this is long past due." "Maybe so. But, ya know there's kind of a huge flaw in your little plan here. Namely the fact that I'm about to beat the ever living fuck outta you." "Yes...that may pose something of a problem." Silas finished his drink. "Or at least, it would, if not for this..." He snapped his fingers, and a hidden door opened, from which emerged... An explosion sent shockwaves through the air as the windows of the upper floors of the Van Cleef building all got blasted out, raining shards of glass to the streets below. Seconds later, Crim landed on the ground, crouching, one fist planted, a small crater forming on the otherwise flawless concrete from the impact. He stood up, dusted himself off, and looked up as people scattered and fled screaming every which way as alarms and sirens filled the air. "Well, that was something," he said to himself as he waited for his new adversary to come down after him. "Shoulda expected he'd hire some muscle, I guess. Sneaky son-of-a-bitch." Crim wasn't on alert before, but he sure as heck was now. He'd be ready for damn near anything at this point. It seemed highly probable that Silas would have hired more than one assjack to come after him. There was also the small matter of this being a populated area. He'd have to be extra careful, watch his steps, keep clear of bystanders, avoid collateral damage as much as possible...try to lead any aggressors away from the city. Much as he hated letting Silas outta his sight, there just wasn't much other choice for the time being. He'd deal with the bounty hunters and come back to kick Silas in the teeth later. -------------------- OOC thread here: fflounge.freeforums.net/thread/134/smug-long-crim-furaga-ooc |
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Post by đșđđđ on Mar 20, 2020 14:31:37 GMT
Back Ground Music: A lone dancer
R E G I C I D E
âA man fears what they cannot comprehend, a god fears what men are capable of understanding.â The words subtle upon the silence permeating throughout the still mansion. Pale moonlight casts silken shadow upon the walls creating a grim stage for shadows to dance and dust particles float in mild stasis as nary a breeze flowed throughout the estate moved from their endless waltz by the languid motions of a monster among men. Between leather gloved fingertips the beast gingerly touched pristine porcelain, a wonderfully crafted ornate childâs jewellery box. So gentle was his touch there was a fear that should a sudden breeze burst through the still room he may just drop it. With forefinger and thumb of his left hand Syn gently turned a brass key thrice as a beautiful melody began to play. Each note soft, elegant and pristine as he was sure that within said box a ballet dancer danced to in marvellous pirouettes. âSo beautiful.â Syn speaks softly as he places the box down gently upon the living room table. As he does so the top pops open and within a ballet dancer dressed in pink dances carefree. The melody a sound of beautiful youth, creativity and love now carried with it a sadness. The melody as it played in this empty house was haunting, a serenity found in the melancholy of destroyed innocence. Taking a moment to commit the beautiful melody to memory, a sigh of relaxation would pass through crimson lips. Lips splattered with carmine to match the flesh of his pale visage. Withdrawing from his pocket a cigar, Syn sat himself within a refined leather high backed couch, right foot resting upon left knee. Placing the cigar between his lips Syn removed from his pocket a lighter. Three âclicksâ later and the wick ignited into flame casting a warm glow across the room to which he brought the roaring flame to the end of his cigar. Before him lay a scene of passionate and instinctual violence. A picturesque exhibition of primal behaviour. Droplets of crimson splattered thick upon wall and furnishing alike. Flesh clung to glass picture frame and shattered mirrors alike. Viscera and sinew cover every surface from floor to ceiling in a beautiful tapestry of carnage. To pair with such visceral bodily destruction, so too was the room left to ruin. Couches upended, white innards blossoming outward like newborn clouds. Wooden bookcases upended and shattered casting books and pine across the room. Walls blemished by indentations. Mirrors, photos and paintings alike shaken free from housings to collide with the floor. Rugs and wooden floorboards the smeared in the remnants of life. Taking an inhale of his cigar, Syn flicked shut the lid of his lighter snuffing the flame from existence. It was in this moment, in this leather chair, with this cigar, dressed in those clothes drenched in blood listening to that hauntingly beautiful melody did he find a moment of clarity. A serene feeling as logic and moral compass returned from the unhinged and he â he laughed. Outside, the world moved forward unknowing of the atrocity that happened. The world was still deep in slumber with only the nocturnal to account for the grievances bestowed upon such an establishment. The harrowing call of owls added to the haunting melody as it gradually slowed to a stop. Slow, jarring motions of the once beautiful dancer signified the climax to his time upon this house. Raising himself free from the confines of the couch, Synâs luminescent aquamarine eyes glanced once more across at his craftmanship. By the time morning would come, they would find the bodies of four, ever so violently taken from this earth however, it would be the intention that would be the most horrifying aspect. Upon the floor symbols were drawn in the blood of the victims. Lined with salt and stone in a circular pattern. In the centre sat a chalice of mahogany and within sat four unique individual hearts paired with various flora. The smell of copper, iron and pine would be thick on the nose but the assault to the eyes would be the inscription upon the wall.âOh, how my rampant desire, ripped from the presence of God now hungered like a beast for the knowledge of Evil.â â 13th Cesar
Taking a moment to fix his black Silken necktie and looking about him Silas stepped forward. âI wanted to put you under retainer as personal guard.â Taking a moment to poise himself, Silas took the air of a businessman securing a deal. âI know you were paid to commit those killings on herrings hill.â The statement left those lips with a smug undertone, one that crawled under the skin and plucked at the strings that held back aggression. Syn slowly turned about, hands finding themselves in their pockets. âA man such as yourself knows many things, hardly any of them are worth any weight and almost all of it is bullshit.â Stepping forward slowly until he was uncomfortably within Silasâ personal space. The sound of guns cocking, triggers flicking from safety to active. a smirk to spread upon his lips, Silas now feeling the full weight of Synâs presence. âYouâre a silver spoon fed child with daddy issues and an ego to match. Your only issues are making sure you have enough money to wipe your ass with.â Stepping back, Syn raised his shoulders into a soft shrug. âWhy would I care for these issues?â A single step back, Silas braced himself before he spoke with firm affirmation. âThere is someone I want dead, Crim El Furaga. I have secured another, a Mr. Nazhul.â Silas stated bluntly. âI expect Crim to appear looking for my now dead father once he finds that a bounty is placed upon his head. Kill him and I will pay you triple the bounty.â Synâs eyes searched Silasâ before his attention was drifted to the name. Heâd heard whispers of that man. He was a prideful beast with a penchant for thievery and running a crew of dangerous mishaps. âThe thrill of the hunt, at least you made the prey interesting.â With a breath, Silas slumped into the couch, unsure if heâd just signed a contract with a devil.Three moons pass and Synâs black oxfords touch dusted asphalt. The sunâs harsh rays bear down upon the cityscape as if it were during hellish Armageddon. Sun bleached buildings line bustling city streets as people howl and shout to speak across each other. Buildings built atop ruins and shopfronts repeatedly fixed told a story beyond words. This place was the cesspool of the solar system. This place was as home to Syn as it was everyone else. Turning his attention however towards the monolith of power and prestige, Syn knew that to be his destination. Tailored sanguine slacks perfectly meet matte black oxfords, black belt with a unique silver cross buckle cinched tight about his midsection. Tucked into his pants was a neatly pressed and tailored black tri-weave silken shirt made of silk, Kevlar and a new polymer for tensile strength. Over the top Syn wore a three-button vest of carmine colouration with no necktie. About his neck Syn wore a unique necklace of blackened chain, silver and red beads leading to a crimson cross with gold accents. About his shoulders he wore dark brown leather bracing with golden buckles leading to a shoulder holster. Within its place sat the weapon known only as Bad Omen. Within his right hand Syn held the blackened sheath of a wakizashi. In slow motions Syn Slipped it into two anchors in the small of his back before he made his way towards the complex. As he approached, Syn ignored the security staff and made his way into the foyer. To which the administration swung their hand towards the left and towards the elevators. Without saying a word Syn made his way to them and then towards the topmost floor. Cold, unnerving stare focused forward as the metal swept open to reveal the exuberant office of the child. Stepping through, Syn said nothing and rather took his time to look around. It was grand and obnoxious, just as Silas was dressed. âWhere is my partner?â Syn asked bluntly as he turned to look about the office once more. He could not sense the presence of a third nor had he laid eyes upon a maroon cloak or white mask. âPerhaps he will arrive soon.âSliding black leather gloves upon his hands, Syn took to unholstering the hand cannon he used. The weapon itself exuding a corruptive state as he counted six explosive rounds in the chamber along with two quick reloads of the same ammunition, one quick reloads of tracer and one of general metal slugs. A smirk consumes Synâs visage, the look was horrifying. To stare upon him was to stare upon a beast who hungers, and prey has been found. Turning towards Silas, the man had pointed towards a secret door. No doubt to a saferoom, a place to which Syn would best reside until the action starts. No words were shared, rather Syn took two crystalline glasses and a bottle of scotch â single malt â with him into the room. Within, he took to the seat and poured himself a glass as the door closed and sealed shut. The room was sparse beyond a couch, a table and a plethora of screens revealing the inner workings of the building. Syn could see everything, as such he was able to see the interaction between security and Crim. Syn took note of the womanâs sudden ailments as he poured himself another glass, bringing the amber liquid to his lips he took a sip and watched. His attention was drawn to the prospect that his partner had not yet arrived, perhaps he would show up as the fun began. Crim ascended the building, Syn rose to his feet and walked towards the entrance of the safe room. Left hand raising to withdraw from the holster Bad Omen. The unique divine weapon shifting in shades of silver in his hands as the safety trigger unlatched before Crim entered Silasâ office. Raising the weapon to chest height, right hand raised to support left as the door swung open. Simultaneously two things occurred. The first was the door opening wide enough that Crim was visible and the second was that Synâs finger pressed the hairline trigger letting a cacophonous eruption as the high velocity explosive 22mm round rung free. An explosion erupts throughout the office shattering window and shaking foundations as Syn stepped forward. Unphased by such a destructive outcome and the man took to stepping free from the window ledge to descend upon terra firma below. Synâs descent was rapid as he leapt from the windowsill however before meeting with terra firma his descension slowed as both feet touched solid ground. Synâs luminescent eyes focused upon crim with dangerous intent. Posture was relaxed, yet clearly resembling a confident combatant. Poised to move should he need too, Bad Omenâs raised once more. âPleasure to meet you Captain Crim, Iâd say the pleasure is mine, but alas I am not alone so instead the pleasure is ours.â Taking a singular step forward, Syn continued. âThe chance to combat the captain of the Yggdrasil pirates, as much as I wish to have killed Silas myself, he gave me an opportunity I could not refuse.â Syn cared not for the bystanders and the innocent. He saw them as pawns in the great game before him. A roll of his right shoulder backwards paired with his hips swivelling to a loose state meant he was preparing for any counter that may descend upon him. 
- Wrath
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Post by grandfather on Mar 22, 2020 1:18:08 GMT
[attr="class","sidetxt1"]NAHZUL [attr="class",sidetxt2"]THE CRIMSON REAPER [attr="class","sidetag"]@crane | [attr="class","bodytxtt"]   BGM: VoidDeath. How glorious a concept; how befitting a name. Regardless of one's belief in the afterlife, Death was indisputably "the end". Whatever or whomever met with such a fate ceased to exist on or in the respective location they "died" in. It could be delayed, it could be halted, but inevitably? It could not be stopped. This - to most, was the ultimate power to possess. To bring about an absolute end to an existence without effort, to control the souls trapped in purgatory by the aforementioned? There was no price one could put on such strength...Or could they? - â Deep Within The Abyss -- The Rage of The Emperor â The events of this story- of this perspective begin as all else do; deep within the bowels of the abyss. Blackness engulfs the vicinity and stretches out endlessly. Throughout, those cursed to purgatory race about the ever-expansive space while drowning it in the gut-wrenching sound of their life long screams. Tormented Souls to The Crimson Lord were akin to "music" in The Physical Space. For whatever "emotion" he may possess at the moment, there never was a time he wouldn't enjoy their pleasant, soothing tunes. It kept him calm and this? He appreciated greatly; especially times of great stress such as this. "Lord Nahzul!" a crackle of thunder shot throughout what appeared to be the ceiling of this abyssal structure, Lightning travelling along it's surface before striking down directly behind The Reaper. "Do you feel that seismic amount of activity on--" Raising his right hand to silence Minos, Nahzul took a step forward as a nigh holographic display appeared before them. "That I do, my child, that I do." Displayed on the screen was what appeared to be a leveled city morphed by the consequences of war. In a cleared town square, a mountain of corpses stood tall enough to dwarf a handful of nearby buildings. The sky was dark and violet, no doubt by the interference of an outside source. And if one looked at the mountain from an eagle eye view, the word "REAPER" had been spelt out atop their mangled frames. It was clear that someone yearned for his attention. A violent silence occupied the current moment as the two pondered the most likely response. Minos speaking shortly after upon reaching his maximum amount of tolerance for a day. "Will we go, My Lord?" His question was met with another wave of silence as Nahzul pondered all options before responding. "Is there any other choice? We leave at once". Minos nodded, hesitated to speak, then decided against it as Nahzul turned and questioned his thoughts. "Sir...Do you think that he is--" it hadn't taken Nahzul more than millisecond to interrupt Minos with force; his hand ferociously gripping the entirety of Minos' skull. "My child, my weapon, my trusted aide. For your safety and my mental stability, I urge you to refrain from going any further. Minos, terrified for his life, squirmed desperately "I understand s-sir! I apologize for overstepping my boundaries! I shall speak of him no further, sire! Please, let me go"! Upon hearing this, Nahzul released his grip as Minos howled in pain while attempting to recollect himself. "There are plenty of gods vying for your position, boy. You will always be expendable; you'd do well to remember that". As his rage dissipated like a calming storm, his attention returned to the pile of corpses. "Now, unsheathe yourself, Minos. We've business and I can't afford your disappointments". - â The Holy Federation -- An Unknown World â BGM: OminousThe city was, as expected. The Presence of Death was stronger than anything fathomable by humans let alone anything the supernatural. If they'd done enough research to summon him, they had to have known of his strengths; that this much Death it-- it made him virtually untouchable. Something about this wasn't right and he knew it. The condition of this city and it's inhabitants; it was as if they were purposefully strengthening his power....but why? Admist the aforementioned clouds came a tear, a black beam crashing into the town square as from it stepped The Emperor of Souls with Minos in hand. Adorned in his signature crimson cloak and eldritch- white mask, Nahzul scanned the surrounding area as the purple hued vicinity tripled in eeriness with the lack of person; the town was deserted. This mount of corpses before him truly was the entire city, wiped clean. "Nahzul. The Crimson Reaper. The Emperor of Souls. Lord Death himself!" Positioned across the street on a sidewalk similar to the one he stood on had been a slinky fellow draped in a white and gold attire; so he was one of those types then. Flanking the man had been a small fleet of soldiers equipped head to toe with their planet's finest technology. It was clear they were dressed for war, but exactly whom did they think they were fighting? Furrowing his brows, Nahzul made no motion to move a fraction of his strength was made visible; the black smoke causing any opposition to withdraw with haste. "If you know that much boy, then I'm sure you're well aware my time is not to be wasted; especially by some power-hungry coward hiding behind wealth and power. Speak your reasons for my summons- if found satisfactory, you'll be spared your lives". Whomever this individual was, he was weak and had no issue showing such. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he leapt back in freight, shrieking loudly in a high pitched sound. "I-I-I understand your time isn't to be wasted s-sir and I-I apologize for disturbing it! I have a proposition however that you may find beneficial!" As the smoke grew closer, his voice grew more desperate as he added on. "Crim El Furaga, Lord of The Yggdrasil Pirates. This man is responsible for more deaths than any I've caused today; more deaths than any you've seen in some time, I reckon. Take a look at this." Raising his right hand, he tapped his watch as a holographic display showed the massive death count on his head. The number- admittedly, was enough for even Nahzul to question the man's being. "He's trying to play Death! Trying to mimic your greatness, sir! A-And speaking of mimicry, t-there will be another there. A man by the name of Syn De Rais who calls himself The Red Death; y-yet another impostor, you see?! By offering their lives to you, I wish to restore the galaxy's balance and take care of two thorns in my side at onc"-- It happened so suddenly; a gust of wind passing by as his palm met the man's face. Striking him down to the ground and breaking his nose with little effort. From this strike, Silas Van Cleef would raise his head to notice not Nahzul, but Minos (who had sheathed and returned to human form) standing atop him with the eyes of a man beyond his measure of power. "Do you wish to anger my lord, worm? Do you honestly intend to stand before he who guides souls and disrespect him like this? Give me one good reason- just one, and I'll at least leave you breathing--". "Yet again you've overstepped your boundaries". Reaching from behind, a fist pierced through the chest of his blade as he made no noise before collapsing to the ground. "Take a moment to rest and calm your effervescent attitude". Staring in horror, Silas fell back onto his bottom as he backed up in a panic; the guards having ran some time ago. Gazing down at the soiled little man, Nahzul sighed before returning Minos to his bladed form and clenching the blade tightly. "Boy, whatever your name is." <Nahzul>"Silas Van--" <Silas>"I don't care. I've no investment in your personal life so your qualms with them matter not to me. With that being said, their existence forms pieces to a puzzle I've been trying to figure out some time now. You are right about the balance, it needs to be fixed. By that fact alone, I will accept your request--" <Nahzul>
"That's wonderful to he--" <Silas>"However! It will not be me completing the job; I will be sending the host of this body in my place. If that is not satisfactory for you--" <Nahzul>"N-No, that's fine. That is perfectly fine." <Silas>"Good". <Nahzul>As he turned the opposite direction, a portal formed as space warped to his will, Nahzul and his scythe stepping in. "And boy?...This had better be worth his time too; he's a lot less patient than I am".  - â Nova Fall -- Days Past The Encounter â BGM: The SeatbeltsYet another city, yet another hit to add on to the list of bullshit he'd been forced to slay for the douchebag upstairs. Nova Fall was the melting pot of the worst of the worst, scum filthier than that thing growing on the bottom of your feet. Criminals of all shapes and sizes took refuge in the thought that they had a place to finally call home. Somewhere they could kill and steal all they wanted without the law putting a stop to their fun. In the center of this massive sprawl of bodies- aptly named "Center City" by the locals, was where we would find the protagonist to the remainder of this story. "EAT A DICK, FRANCIS"! Masked by the screeching horns and active townsfolk, two individuals were promptly hauling ass throughout various alleyways while throwing whatever they could find behind them to block the trail. The first of the two, Jack Von Ireich, was a 6'4 sleazeball with a face not even a demon mother could love. Sweat drenched his black and white stripped jumpsuit as the jet black vest on top swayed roughly in the wind. He was fair skinned with short, blonde, spikey hair and blue eyes that were brighter than him and his brother's personalities combined.-- Speaking of his brother... "WE AIN'T DYIN' NO WAY NO HOW"! Jedadiah Von Ireich (nicknamed Judd), was a heftier, more dimwitted version of his brother. Matching all but the size and a clean shaven head covered but a jet black beanie, ht was clearly the muscle of the two; being responsible for the poorly executed but effective plan of blocking the path behind them. As foot steps grew louder behind them, a pale skinned male with messy burnette hair and dim green eyes turned the corner and began to chase after them. ENTER: FRANCIS NOX
OCCUPATION: BOUNTY HUNTER "Gah! Stop god damnit! Why do they always run like this?!" Francis Nox was a scruffy yet higher pitched tone. He was closer to 6'0 but that honestly changed depending on just who was in control. Francis was dressed in crimson from head to toe. Starting with a faded shaw that rested over a shirt of similar hue. Going down, he'd crimson leather trousers and combat boots of no particular fabric that- despite the constant damage done to them, held together just as good as they were when he first bought them. Despite the role he knew he played in life, he honestly didn't like the color crimson that much. But of course, it wasn't really his decision now was it? Any time Mr. High and Mighty didn't like something Francis was doing to the body, he would simply possess it and reverse the change. Francis was a child dressed by mommy and nothing more. It was degrading and that shit he absolutely couldn't stand. Must've been why he was out huntin'; not like he needed a job. Anywho, as he'd turned yet another corner, The Von Ireich brothers had stepped out into a clearing that led into a major city street. "Wait you idiots! That street's got major--" the sound of cars crashing into flesh filled the streets as screams quickly took their place "traffic...Damnit"!Stepping out, a large truck had been pulled over to the side as The Von Ireich's bodies were found underneath a spray of blood plastered against the wall; their frames an absolute mess of their former selves. Letting out a deep sigh, Francis approached the bodies and hoisted them up; two jet black portals opening up at his sides as he hoisted them in with a old fashioned heave ho. "Not the way I expected to close this out but hey-- I'm not complaining". "I bet you aren't". Almost as quick as those two died, another appeared behind him. This one, more familiar to The Crimson Hunter. "Nahzul, to what do I owe the pleasure? Need my body for some galaxy altering scheme again"? As he turned, time itself froze while the two continued their banter. The world's saturation decreasing by a large portions at a time. "I've a job for you, one that'll pay more handsomely than these two insects you've just played with. Why is it you refuse to use the power I've given you?" <Nahzul>"Fuck off, what's the job?" <Francis> "Crim El Furaga, do you know of him?" <Nahzul>"Who doesn't? He's only one of the-- Wait, you don't mean?" <Francis>"He will be your next target." <Nahzul>"AWE COME ON! You've gotta be shitting me! Why am I always stuck doing your dirty work?! <Francis>"Less talk. Your target should be arriving any minute." <Nahzul>"Wait, what?" <Francis>BOOM! CRASH! A short distance away stood a sky-scraper sized tower-- and two individuals fell from it like it was nothing. It hadn't taken a rocket scientist to figure out what to do next. "A word of caution, Francis. The blue eyed Syn De Rais has been informed you're his partner; do well to not break that trust until the very end. Eliminate Crim first, Syn will be weakened and ready for the taking after." <Nahzul>"Eventually I'm going to find a way to split us apart, and when I do? It'll be the greatest day of my life." <Francis>"Just do the job, Francis." <Nahzul>- Blatantly walking up to an opponent in any normal circumstance would be considered crazy in eyes of many...but Francis wasn't dealing with any old opponent and he certainly wasn't any old guy. Withdrawing a cigarette from his mouth and lighting it, he would take one long drag before sucking it into his mouth and proceeding to chew on it like gum; the sting on his tongue coupled with the god awful reminded him he was human. It was reassuring. Moving on, as he approached the two, it became easier to make out who was his opponent and who was his partner. Walking in at the end of Syn's speech, Francis lightly scratched his head before summoning Minos to his side. "Crim El Furaga!" Francis called, his voice echoing throughout the panicked street. "Looks like you gotta die, pal. Sorry about that". Switching up to a tightened posture, Minos lit up as the following things took place in milliseconds. Minos glowed a jet black, bright pink, and dark red light. Following this, these lights began to surround his ally like an aura as they left the scythe. At his feet, tiny, microscopic bugs began to gather. Simultaneously, a thick smoke poured from the holes of his clothing and fell to the ground; spreading around him in a hastened pace. Turning to his ally then to his opponent, Francis now held the scythe with both hands at the tip faced the ground and the blade was held at a diagonal angle facing the sky. "Think of it as a chance to sleep after all these years of hardcore pirating or something, I don't know. I was never good with these things". [attr="class","cranecred00"]MADE BY CRANE |
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Post by Reno on Mar 22, 2020 3:40:38 GMT
{ BGM: "Big Bluff"} Well! As expected, it turned out to be a two-for-one deal. Silas was famous for being a cheapskate, but since this shindig apparently served the little jerk's selfish interests, he'd clearly opted to spare no expense. How fucking considerate of him! Of course, ol' Crim remained undeterred. Tough odds never phased him. In fact, he had a particular preference for this kind of thing. Really got the blood pumping, and that was a pretty rare thing for him outside of encounters with the U-TIC Organization and their endless legions of increasingly dangerous high-octane fuck freaks and other assorted terrors. All right, so, two guys, both of 'em appearing to be at least competent at first glance. Of course, initial assessments had a tendency to be a bit dodgy, even with his highly attuned senses being what they were (nigh impeccable, that's what!). Generally speaking though, Crim did indeed have a tendency to be pretty damned accurate in his predictions. This was largely due to the sheer amount of battle experience that he possessed, which truly dwarfed that of the vast majority of fighters. His experience, coupled with his excessively keen, multifaceted senses, granted him rapid and detailed insights that only grew more accurate as he continued to observe adversaries. And, in spite of his reputation for tomfoolery and seemingly idiotic antics, he possessed a mind that was actually razor sharp, capable of dissecting and analyzing his numerous observations with machine-like efficiency. There was a definite method to his apparent madness, which was a lesson that usually came far too little and too late for most enemies, if it ever even came at all. He was both subtle and outlandish in his responses to any given situation, which served to baffle most opponents, as well as to (eventually) terrify them. No action was wasted, even those that were seemingly superfluous or even pointless. Something as insignificant as a blink could end up evolving into a deadly maneuver, a setup, or a distraction of some kind. There was just no way to know - not unless you'd fought him before. But if that were the case, Crim would simply take that into account and change things up accordingly, using it to his advantage in order to further muddy the proverbial waters. He'd purposely set the stage to make it seem as though he was about to do one thing, only for it to be a total ruse, segueing into something completely different and heretofore unknown. Enigmatic didn't even begin to describe his overall methods. He was akin to Chaos Incarnate. But that was all rather beside the current point. He was always thinking ahead, of course, but the majority of his considerable focus remained on the here and now. The moment. And at this precise moment, he was being faced down by a pair of yahoos aiming to cleave his head from his neck. And, for what? A couple of measly shekels from the likes of Silas Van Kleef? What happened to standards? The first one offered up an introduction. Damn jackass who took that cheap shot earlier up in the office. Yeah, I saw you, you bastard! Ha! Not today, friend! Crim took note of his weapons (the ones he could see, anyway). Nothing he hadn't seen before, though that didn't mean they weren't hazards. And there could easily be hidden properties as well. He'd have to test the waters a bit. Shortly, the other one showed up, as if on cue. Bit more laid back. Maybe the type who got chatty when he was excited or nervous. But he also wielded some kinda dark power, and a mean lookin' scythe too. Whole setup looked and felt pretty fiendish, whatever it was. Seemed to produce some appropriately gnarly effects, too. Would definitely need to keep an eye on it. Probably keep his own countermeasures close to the vest for the time being though. No need to reveal that too soon. They both seemed to already know who he was. Not unexpected. In fact, that's usually how it went. Them's the breaks when you're famous. Bit of a double-edged sword, though, and not just for him, but for would-be glory-seekers as well. All kinds of dossiers and factoids were out there floating around about him. And while some of the information was certainly accurate, there was also a ton of fake news gumming up the works, muddying the waters, which actually made it easier for him in a lot of cases. For instance, an assailant might be aware that Crim was a highly skilled martial artist, but would have no idea that he was also a marksman, a pilot, and a decently good cook. Another overzealous hunter might be aware of Crim's usage of Materia, but have no idea to what extent the Captain's skills were with it, let alone the fact that he changed his setup whenever he felt like it. There were so many rumors and unknown factors, that if anything, it might really just serve to enhance his overall unpredictability factor, which in turn meant that anyone who came after him was likely to be in for a not so Smurfy surprise...at least once he actually decided to start taking things seriously. For his part, he remained in place. No point in moving just yet. Jumping the gun wasn't something he's ever been known for, and this situation hadn't reached a precarious stage yet. Not even close. Well, actually, there were a couple of issues on that front, but... He noticed the surrounding buildings going into lockdown mode. Hmm, good response time. Good, not great. Still, there were a lot of bystanders close by, and he wasn't particularly confident that the fortifications of office buildings would be enough to weather the coming storm. Just gonna have to make the best of it when the time comes. If it comes. Although when would probably be more appropriate. Hey, come on, try the glass half full for a change! Ah, but we still haven't addressed the proverbial elephant in the room. The one thing in all this that might strike his new friends (in his mind, he'd begun referring to them as 'Frick and Frack') as rather puzzling, perhaps even unsettling. This would be the fact that Crim didn't appear to be emanating any energy at all. No trace of his famous Ether Power - which was a well-documented thing with him. His Ether powers were widely known and generally considered to be legendary. It was one of the principle reasons why he was considered to be such a massive threat by so many. But right now, it was as if he wasn't even present in terms of anything resembling a proper battle aura. A majority of powerful fighters at least possessed a bare minimum when it came to that sort of thing, pretty well as a matter of course, even when they were actively suppressing their abilities. Crim didn't seem to be doing that, though. And in fact, he was most certainly not suppressing his power. He was as relaxed as a regular fella just out for a comfortable afternoon stroll. No malice, no anxiety, no turmoil of emotion. No fire. Not even an ember, a mere spark. But not a total void, either. It was just like he was part of the background, blending in. Odd, indeed. One might even call it highly irregular. Most likely unnerving as hell, or at least it would be to a smart fighter, because it would foretell that Crim was drastically more abnormal than even his reputation (which certainly preceded him) would have ever suggested. Which, in turn, would likely subvert any preconceived notions about him, and thus upend any prior battle strategies. Or maybe not! Who knows, right? { BGM: "Get Over the Barrier!} Anywho, the Captain offered up a light smirk as he clenched his left hand into a fist. As he did so, a green Materia orb slotted into his Tenkai Bracer (equipped as always on his left forearm) began to emit an uncharacteristically fierce glow, like it was about to explode. Now, this energy would be discernible to any being with even a modicum of Ethereal sense, and Crim had no doubt that his adversaries would be keen enough to pick up on it. All part of the plan, of course. Simultaneously, his right hand hovered down near his right hip. Nothing apparently too special about that, but then again, assumptions like that were generally a bad idea. BUT...gosh darn it, on the OTHER hand, what if it was just some kind of annoying ruse? A distraction meant to bewilder and cause second guesses to befuddle the minds of enemies, disrupt their thoughts, wreck their plans? Jesus...what if it was both at once? All told, he remained perfectly relaxed in both body and mind. It was like he didn't even realize he was in the midst of a potentially life-or-death scenario. That was the vibe he was giving off, anyway. Obviously, he knew better. And he was quite certain that his opponents could at least see through that. Thing is, he really didn't see it as such a dire situation. Not yet, anyway. And there was a damn good reason why he chose to be this way, too, which had nothing to do with his opponents and everything to do with his own damned self. Depending on how things went from here on out, however...well, whether any of the underlying factors in play came to the forefront, would depend largely on what kind of fight these guys brought to him. "One chance to walk away, fellas. You sure about this?" He spoke with an air of supreme confidence. It seemed both misplaced and yet somehow jovial, while also saturated with a threat...no, a promise of... Total ruin.Crim ignored the specter of the red menace, and stood his ground, giving them the opportunity to flee, or to make the first move. Would this be a tactical error? Or was it all part of some grand, far-reaching scheme that he'd already somehow planned several moves in advance? Could be that it was just an addiction to chaos, and he had no idea what was about to happen. And that was just how he liked it.Ha ha ha ha... |
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Post by đșđđđ on Mar 28, 2020 1:44:21 GMT
R E G I C I D E
Haunting aquamarine eyes remained focused upon Crim in a perfect state of stoicism as the third member joined their waltz. Free hand raising to cast a sideways wave towards the male dressed in maroon cloak that summoned forth a unique weapon. âGood of you to finally join usâŠâ Synâs words were cut short as someone interjected themselves into the conversation by colliding themselves face first with the pavement between the triad. The body dressed in a previously immaculate white suit with snakeskin boots. A soft laugh escaped Synâs lips as blood pooled out around the now deceased contractor. âGuess Iâll have to do this for fun then.â Synâs words hinted at a pleasure at the death of the arrogant bastard. Synâs attention remained focused upon his opponent but the many years heâd been in the business had honed his senses beyond the preternatural. Time had blessed the wrathful one with an endless plethora of victims to hone his craft, blood drenched his hands and they blessed his mind with knowledge. Knowledge and battle prowess far beyond what he exuded. As Crim did, so did Syn, they were masters in withholding information on the fields of war. Crim exuded nothing about him. The various strains of knowledge and whispers Syn had heard all vanished, a clean slate â gone but not forgotten. A man versed in versatility was a man worthy of a battle beyond the measures of those before it. There was nothing, no powerful presence that many flaunted as a form of egoism when in truth they were insignificant. No, Crim was much more, he held no aura at all, if Syn didnât know better heâd consider him one of the many insignificant others that cast about them. These bystanders were not safe, even in lockdown. They were never safe around the killer of kings. A spectrum of warm toned colours begins to permeate about Synâs physique. Blessings cast onto him via his compatriot, an understanding of what each does sure to come with feeling each individual blessing and how they reacted to his presence. The blackened smoke that spewed forth from every orifice of the manâs jacket bringing to question the power in which his maroon coated supporter held. Syn noticed the quickened glances upon to each of the buildings as they entered lockdown. Roller doors and armoured plating locked across all shopfronts as if it were to protect them from the battles about to happen in hope to protect the innocent. Syn also noticed the calculation of the bystanders. It was in these momentâs Synâs right foot shifted slightly, enough to better adjust to the current standoff between them and to cover it in the depths of those fluorescent colours now hidden. However, as foot reconnected with pavement the wrathful one would use such motion to lay the foundations of one of his divine abilities. Dormant it would lay for now to awake as Syn desired. âDonât tell me the pirate king has a soft spot for these bystanders?âSyn spoke calmly Bad Omen trained upon Crim, finger upon that hairline trigger ready to depress in rapid succession. The unholy hand canon was a sight to behold in broad daylight. The unique Damascus pattern that ran the length of the barrel and the 22mm large boar cylinder. It shined various shades of black, grey and vibrant silver. The pistol grips were black etched in crimson Enochian scripture obscured by his hands. This weapon should normally kickback like a cannon and yet for Syn he carried it with relative ease and clearly capable of firing it without damage to himself.Crimâs left fist clenched tight as a green orb locked into a unique device. Syn knew almost instantly that this was Materia. A unique essence that provided magical effects to those who use it. Syn had came across it through his travels in the cosmos and during a time in which he fought against a unique organisation capitalising on a fallen deityâs lifeforce. Synâs visage remained stoic as Crimâs right hand motioned towards its hip. Syn understood the vibrant glow that emitted from Crimâs left hand could be a plethora of abilities. All of it could be a set up or a ruse, with Synâs current standing he was capable with dealing with the varied outcomes sure to happen. The question became â what of Crim? Was he willing to test the lines? As that right hand settled near Crimâs hip Syn acted. Turning the barrel away from Crim at a 45-degree angle horizontally from its original position a single round was fired with a cacophonous eruption of sound. The destination was a group of cowering bystanders hidden on the cusp of a buildings corner. The very ground shock and dust danced at the release of such violent pressure. Normally a building should protect the innocent but sadly for them, unless Crim acted it would be their last moments. What would Crim do? Would he allow the innocent to die or would he reveal a trick to protect them? Meanwhile Syn remained as completely relaxed as he had been since landing out here. If Crim didnât protect the innocent the round would connect with the building with enough force to puncture clean through before exploding in a violent burst of flame and shrapnel, the sound a violent and crescendo roar Bodies would lay in pieces like a thrown jigsaw. Vertebrae, sinew and flesh would splatter across the other buildings and the ground they stood upon. Syn had noticed however that as he fired the penumbra aura blessed onto him reached to amalgamate with the explosive round before it was released. The sound of a spent cartridge collides with the ground thrice before falling still as the weapon returned to its original position trained to Crim.If Crim moved to protect them, Syn would follow his motions or if he sent something to protect them, Syn would learn part of that unique powerset of Crim. Furthermore, Syn would keep the attention upon him or rather that was the desire. Finally, Syn answered Crimâs question, voice as even as it was before and yet it broke through the feverish sounds about them. âItâs been a long time since Iâve had the pleasure of entering mortal combat with someone worth it!â Synâs voice broke into a psychopathic pleasured sound. The last words carried a laugh of pure love. âCrim! Oh, you are just what I hoped youâd be! It will be such a pleasure to fight you!â Synâs answer was madness or that is what it looked like to the outside. To Crim heâd see the barely broken stoicism. Everything Syn did was calculated. Nothing was left to chance, He was trying to lure Crim in. Syn wanted to peel back those layers, to force Crim to take him seriously. Of course, however, He hadnât forgotten about his comrade. There was more to him than it looked.âAnd I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse, and He who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and wages warâSyn spoke with colour malice, his voice rumbling deep. Synâs left eye awoke from its stasis as the Eye of the Betrayer came to fruition. Sclera now pigmented deep black with pupil and iris becoming one unified colour of vibrant white and taking a new shape of an eight-pointed star. Synâs vision now widened to access a multitude of dimensions. To Syn there was no more secrets to his vision, he could see everything. Syn remained silent on what the eye did for now.âShow us why people whisper your name in fear! I want to see what scares the rich and poor alike. Show me chaos, show me danger, show me death!â Syn responded, the official challenge laid down. He continued. âLet us three waltz to the death.â Pausing moment, the stoicism completely dropped, and he spoke in a tongue inhuman in nature. It sounded like the rumblings of an earthquake mixed with glass shards being ground together and an upper pitch of nails to chalkboard. Anyone with an ounce of occult knowledge would know he spoke the language of the primal evil.âSo how long will it be, then? How long until you are no longer cursed to walk this earthâŠ?â
- Wrath
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Post by Reno on Apr 5, 2020 19:56:03 GMT
{ BGM: "Urban Noise"} For all of his many faults, Crim was at least a compassionate sort when it came to the so-called innocent masses. Of course, he knew that the majority of them were pretty far from being 'innocent', but at the same time, he figured most of them were at least generally decent folk. So what if they stole a candy bar here and there, or failed to tip a cab driver now and then? Small potatoes. Expecting everyone to be a goddamned saint was completely unreasonable. Know what else was completely unreasonable? The expectation that a guy like him, for all of his strength, all of his power, could possibly be capable of saving everyone. As disappointing as it might have been, Crim was all too aware of this fact. He knew damn well how impossible it truly was to swoop in and save the day each and every time. Hell, if he was lucky, he'd maybe be able to save one-fifth of potential victims. That was the harsh reality, and cold as it may seem, it was a lesson that he'd already learned the hard way. Now, that being said, it certainly was well within his capabilities to do something in this particular situation. The distance between himself and the victims was rather negligible. He was definitely fast enough to react in a multitude of ways. And he knew that was the entire point, too. Less than a split-second was all he had to decide whether or not to give in and go all-out, or to outright and most cruelly deny his opponent the satisfaction. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on where you stood), the Captain didn't need to act on it. His decision would remain forever unknown, as fate - or luck - ultimately decided to intervene on his behalf once again. { BGM: "Elvis PALB_3106 (Battle)"} He didn't move a muscle. Had no need, thanks to the little green-haired missy and her duo of musclefreak goons from earlier. Turns out, they didn't take too kindly to their boss getting defenestrated right in front of them. That, and the local security forces collectively had a mandate to protect the employees of the various conglomerates in place of any official taxpayer-funded police force (Ha! Imagine anyone paying taxes in a place like this!). The trio appeared right in the nick of time, the diminutive chick front and center, levitating on the wind as her eyes emitted a fierce greenish light, her body surrounded by a similarly-tinted aura as a massive blast of Wind-elemental energy swept up and spun chaos into being around herself and her cohorts, forming a surprisingly potent barrier that slowed the incoming projectile to practically a crawl. In that same instant, her underlings, each one now sporting rock-like skin, leaped to the fore and used their bolstered bodies as shields, weathering the remaining impact of the bullet even as it managed to still set off a rather impressive impact. When the dust settled, the two big stone-skinned lugs stood ready as their green-haired leader hovered between them, Wind energy still whipping up around her as she floated on the air. "You...BASTARDS!" Sergeant Harriett fumed, her rage evident in the wind itself as she leveled her furious gaze upon Crim's adversaries. "Bastards!" Corporals Dilton and Gilroy repeated in unison. At this, Crim could only smirk. He figured the little missy was hiding some decent power, but that she'd turn out to be a full-on Aeromancer of this caliber? Should have guessed that one, with the way she'd been able to sense his movements earlier. And those two idiots as well. He'd figured they were likely to have some kind of pure-brawn type special abilities, so he wasn't terribly shocked to see what they could pull off, either. Normally, their ire would for sure be aimed towards him as well, but seeing as how he legitimately had no hand at all in the untimely demise of poor ol' Silas Van Kleef, well...for once, Crim was actually kind of off the hook! That's actually hilarious...hilarious.Well, who the hell was Crim to look a cute little gift horse in the mouth? Actually, though, while he could have taken that opening and likely brought at least one of his opponents down right then and there (that split-second was all he would have needed), he really wasn't one to be so hasty. And so he remained standing in his spot, facing the gun-toting 'Frick' down, the green Materia in his Tenkai bracer gathering more power, burning brighter than before, the light easily visible now even through the sleeve of his dark blue Turk Jacket, which also seemed to be displaying some sort of...golden Ether-circuitry, interwoven in peculiar patterns throughout. Meanwhile, the cratered concrete ground upon which he stood began to crack at his feet, causing jagged fissures to branch outward from his position like tree roots seeking nourishment. And yet still, the only Ether-energy that emanated from him was coming directly from the Materia. He himself remained as before, just sort of blended into the background. As the gunman continued his spiel, opening up some kind of strange evil-eye mojo (obviously something to 'watch out' for, yuk-yuk-yuk!), Crim casually moved his left hand into his jacket while his right remained just where it was near his hip. Meanwhile, Sergeant Harriett and her two goons had opted to bring it straight up face-to-face with the scythe-wielding 'Frack', which quickly resulted in some deft ducking and dodging all the way out of the immediate vicinity - though the explosive sounds of their violent battle could still be heard for some time. Nevertheless, this effectively left Crim with just a single opponent to contend with, at least for the time being. { BGM: "A Professional Villain Clad in Sand"} Finally, Crim spoke, his tone leaning heavily in the direction of derision. "Maaan, you sure talk a lot. Also, that eye looks infected, might wanna get that checked out. Or I could just poke it out for you for free! Bwahaha!" Yep. When all was said and done, everything had pretty much come up in Crim's favor here. Not only did he get to see a bit of what his opponent could muster up (while giving up virtually nothing of his own), he'd also been granted time to continue charging up his Materia for...whatever purpose he had in mind. Plus a couple of other things, probably. Yeah, maybe he could have - or even should have taken full advantage of that moment earlier. That opening. It surely had been tempting, all right. But, hell, that was boring. So damn boring. And it's not like his First Mate, Ralf "Stick In The Mud" Grey was even here to reprimand him for it, either. Ha! He could stuff it, anyway, that old fuddy-duddy! Always ruining the fun times. Meanwhile on board the Yggdrasil V in orbit around the planet...Ralf Grey, the old 'Ironclad', sat in the command chair on the bridge, looking all captainly (a lot more so than Crim ever did), dressed in his long military-esque coat, complete with naval officer-style cap, thoughtfully stroking his mighty beard as he oversaw various mundane ship-related tasks, when suddenly, he sneezed... "Ugh...I have a bad feeling about this..." Ralf muttered as he brought up the prompt to raise the view screen. Back on the ground again...Crim figured his opponent had plenty of tricky tricks up his sleeves, but he wasn't about to give him too many more chances to show 'em off. As always, the Captain stood ready, whether he appeared to be or not. And all that malice was giving the Captain plenty to work with as well, courtesy of his trusty ol' Swordsman's Spirit. Such powerful emotions always made it just that much easier to read intent, and from there, predict their actions to a degree. This generally gave Crim an extra fraction of a moment to react to whatever came his way. Hardly anything to write home about, right? Then again, when you deal in fractions of fractions of instants, the way a fighter such as Crim does...maybe it would be worthy of at least a post-it note. Ooooh, I can hardly wait to see what kind of mess you make of him!Crim ignored the jester. |
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Post by đșđđđ on Apr 15, 2020 4:41:14 GMT
K I N G K I L L E R
Green hair rounds the corner in a wild twist of fate to protect innocence from certain destruction. Their compatriots enacting rapid enough to assure that collateral damage was minuscule in their current actions. Precious moments passed in silence as voices whispered foul and vehemence seeped through terra firma. Synâs corruptive seed absorbent to the vehemence in its infancy. Dormant lay its power deep within planetary crust as Synâs eyes remained focused on Crim unwavering as the field of battle spilled with bodies. Vacating stage right through assault Nazhul took to dealing with the three security guards leaving in their wake an uneasy standoff between the captain and the killer of kings. A soft sigh passes through Synâs lips as Bad Omenâs warm barrel raises from Crimâs chest to point ninety degreeâs vertical.
Syn gave little information comparatively. The two beasts of destruction locked in the early stages of information gathering upon each other. For Crim the very energy that exuded from the Materia inside his Tenkai bracer in vibrant light paired with the glowing ether circuitry of his Turk jacket equivalent exchange for the information of Synâs eye of the betrayer. Such as it was the vessel of multi-planar vision flickering as they followed the very creation and consumption of Esther as its residual effects impact upon the material plane they walked. The audible crackling of pavement splintered the air as small fissures formed in wild sharp litmus blemishes dragging Synâs peripheral vision towards them momentarily, a wry smirk spread upon Synâs lips.
Crim bore a resemblance to the killer of kings; they were seasoned veterans with countless battle experience under their belt. Little was left to the unknown between them, intelligence and honed battle prowess were far more dangerous between the two. What may be wild coincidence was usually broken down to its core probability fundamentals and accounted for, the trajectory of combat adjusted to deal with the means through fractions of seconds, moments most infinitesimal mattered when masters came to blows. It was paramount to understand that for Crimâs blessings to remain so too did Synâs for neither moved to hinder the facilitation of preparation. All things had reached equilibrium.
The silence was the only answer given to the quip of his eye. An underestimation vocalised, Syn knew better than to fall into the honeypot of egoism. Instead, Synâs entire demeanour found itself relaxed, physically and mentally Zen was found. A common technique taught to the samurai of old or the adeptas sororitas of worlds apart, Synâs malice was voided, consumed by the very seed laid earlier in partnership with his Zen. The purpose of Synâs Zen was permanent calm allowing only logic to pass through unhindered by emotional tampering. The static of emotion silenced to allow full focus and peak performance to Synâs opponent â crim deserved as much. From the outside, it would look comparable to a veteran commanderâs steeled focus. Syn forgot all malice to remember perfect clarity. Synâs hand twitched and within that fraction of a second two rounds were consecutively fired upon Crim. The motion from upright to aimed with precision towards Crimâs chest and lower abdomen fluid and effortless. Glass and steel shutters reverberate against the sound creating a cacophony of metallic shrieking. The intent of the weapon broadcast to drive Crim into motion, to test the waters so to speak. Synâs left hand raised to brush blackened hair away from his face as he watched the projectiles ferocious trajectory towards his opponent. If landed explosive force would resonate through terra firma and body alike paired with intense heat and shrapnel moving at speed to shred cloth, flesh and rent into the bone. If crim moved, theyâd strike the ground and erupt in violent reactions sending rubble skyward angrily, the blackened miasma blessed upon Synâs weapon via his now distant comrade devouring material like hellfire spreading slowly outward leaving large potholes amongst the pavement. Finally, Syn spoke.âFeuer Frei.â
- Wrath
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Post by Reno on Apr 15, 2020 7:02:56 GMT
{ BGM: "When the Heart Ignites (Ver. Shovel)"} To say that Crim literally saw all of this coming from a mile away would merely be technically inaccurate, if only due to the fact that the distance between himself and his opponent wasn't anywhere close to a mile. But in all reality, it might as well have been, and the reasons for this were multi-fold. Firstly, there was the simple matter of his, shall we say, legendarily fast perception, which was of course a necessity for rapid acceleration and prolonged high-speed movement - one thing that he happened to be quite well-versed in. Just because he wasn't physically moving around at absurd speeds himself (at least, not yet), in no way meant that his sight was perceiving the world around him at anything resembling a normal rate of speed. Thus, even actions from his opponent that seemed to happen within a blink, actually appeared to be, well, rather on the plodding side in the face of Crim's nigh on peerless vision. Remember, the Captain is a guy who can easily accelerate from a dead-stop, to speeds in the vicinity of Mach 20 (and quite likely well beyond that, if rumors hold true) at a fraction of a moment's notice. That alone was enough for him to react with plenty of time to spare, but on top of the edge given by his raw perception capabilities, he was also gifted with a particularly astute power of simple observation. Which is not to be confused or fully lumped in together with his incredible ability to perceive the world around him. His observational powers were built more around a combination of simple logic, an impeccable memory, and his vast wealth of experience in battle. Certain other little things aided him in such observational endeavors here and there as well, but in this particular case, said things were largely irrelevant. It had been extremely obvious that his opponent was going to continue to rely on his big 'ol hand cannon, electing to attack from a distance in order to feel things out, in the hopes of getting him to commit to something, or perhaps demonstrate some sort of key ability that could be exploited somehow. That was a sound strategy, after all. Hell, Crim did the same thing - probably was doing the same thing even now, albeit not in so nearly as overt a manner. After all, he hadn't even moved from his spot yet. And wasn't that just curious? Surely just standing there like a sitting duck was liable to get him pumped full of lead, or whatever the heck that gun was popping off... Normally...yes, most likely. But assuming anything about Crim was ever going to turn out 'normally' was a generally a pretty bad idea. He kept his hand concealed within his jacket for the time being. No need to pull anything outta that proverbial bag of tricks just yet. He didn't actually need to move at all in order to activate the Master Magic Materia that he'd been charging - bolstered by the special ability of his Turk Jacket (the interwoven Ether circuitry allowing for 'insta-casting' of spells in exchange for a reduction in his physical strength to a certain degree) - for practically this whole time. The Materia flashed brightly as he set off a couple of spells at nearly the exact same moment that his opponent fired upon him. The spells? Two Wall spells, which had the effect of casting both Barrier (half physical damage) and Shell (half Ether damage) at the same time. Nothing too elaborate on their own. Of course, this being Crim El Furaga we were talking about, it was the manner in which he cast the spells that was important. In this instance, it was yet another multifaceted affair - a recurring theme, it would seem. First, he didn't cast the spells upon himself, rather, he cast them roughly two-thirds of the way forward in the space between himself and his opponent. Well, the first Wall was cast there, anyway. The second? He actually cast it upon the first Wall spell itself, in a process he'd devised that he simply referred to as Spell Fusion, wherein he would cast spells in conjunction with each other in order to produce a myriad of new and rather potent effects. In this case? He produced the Wall Squared spell, which generated a temporary barrier that was able to completely block both physical and Ether (so effectively all bases covered) attacks for a short duration before expiring. Where the normal 'Wall' spell would generate barriers that only partially mitigated incoming damage, but for a somewhat prolonged period - at least a minute or so, 'Wall Squared' exchanged longevity for a brief instant of damn near impenetrable, highly focused defense. The impact was quite powerful as the projectiles slammed into the spell, which manifested just in the nick of time thanks to his Turk Jacket working a bit of overtime. Those Ether circuits looked pretty intense, like they were blazing hot...not that there would be any time to marvel at the sight, for this was where yet another layer of Crim's strategy came into play: blowback. Offensive defense, in essence. He'd opted to cast the spell in the space considerably closer to his opponent's location, rather than upon himself (as one normally would) because, thanks to his prior observation of the weapon being fired off, he knew it would likely produce a big explosion. And, sure enough, that's exactly what happened. Now, he couldn't be sure that his opponent would take any collateral damage from his own exploding ordinance. For all Crim knew, the guy was immune to his own toys. Or immune to certain other effects. But he'd also be able to use that to his advantage as well - more knowledge, more power. Oh, and the cracks at his feet kinda kept on sprawling outward as well. It wasn't due to anything particularly menacing though. It was almost like some sort of strange gravitational anomaly affecting his immediate vicinity. Beyond that, his left hand remained concealed within his jacket, the Master Materia still glowing, albeit not as fiercely as before, for the time being anyway. And his right hand still hovered down near his hip, but for what purpose would remain unknown, at least until it became necessary to reveal it - or if it ever did. There wasn't much point in him beaking off to his attacker with some kind of snarky quip in the wake of the bullets blasting into big bastard smithereens between the two of them...well not exactly 'between', as the kaboom kicked off a fair bit closer to his opponent's face than to his own, not to mention on the unsafe side of the Wall Squared spell, which promptly burned itself out almost as soon as the bullets hit it. Well done there, Wally! At least you didn't say that one out loud.He remained in place, observing his surroundings with the keen senses of a warrior unlike any other. Perhaps now his opponent would finally realize this. Then again...Crim really hadn't even done all that much yet. Nothing that could really be used to deduce anything particularly substantive. Nothing telling about his fighting style. No observable weapons. Not even a noticeable battle aura beyond that of the Materia he was using. A sardonic smirk crossed his lips as he thought to himself. ("C'mon now...make me work for it.") |
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Post by đșđđđ on Apr 15, 2020 8:10:26 GMT
K I N G K I L L E R
Synâs perceptive ability was beyond reproach for you donât become a position of power in the arms of damnation without being cut above the rest, furthermore seasoned use and countless Armageddonâs waged upon civilisations bare the fruit of his name. Whole worlds burned in the wake of his fury and blade, civilisations found ruination at his whim and now that bloodied focus was honed completely upon Crim. Syn was observant, much like his opponent. To the realm of outsiders, it would look like a boring eventless combat, but they were not staring into the minds of these two men. They were not privy to the countless contingencies and instantaneous actions caused through theory proved correct. They were playing a chess game beyond any grandmasterâs fathom. Syn was war perfected for the damned. A seventh Sin manifested, to consider that his actions were beyond anything more than a teased toe in the waters was foolhardy. Syn as was Crim was feeling each other out.
The hand cannonâs percussive force blew back dirt and refuse from the pavement, Synâs body unaffected by recoil or hazardous motion laid bare by fortitude and constitution. Preternatural conditioning found their apex in the physique of Syn, amplified through Synâs credible wealth of combat. Increased however through Synâs current state of Zen, Synâs motions were tranquil a defiant mark of the beast. Syn knew better, hoped better that Crim would be beyond the measures of mortal man, that all this build up and mental combat was for something more than boredom. If satisfaction were capable to seep through the impenetrable wall of mental calm of his Zen Syn would feel it as those hopes were met with true form of riposte and in beautiful grandeur. The captain acted upon the very actions of those rounds in simultaneous beauty to defy the rules of mortal coil as Materia enacted.
Three quarters of the way forward those twenty-two-millimetre explosive rounds forged from exorcistâs blood, the bells of the Ecclesiarchy and explosive munitions found sudden forced stopping upon the summoned forth wall. Timing perfected to ensure that both rounds were committed to destination only to be halted via means perfected. The eye of the betrayer allowed Syn to spot interwoven ether summoned forth. The fusion of the spell amplifying the effects to stop the projectiles. A smart action of course was to use such spells at a point where the opponents Ego would best believe their strike would connect. The impact caused by impenetrable wall and strong explosive rounds was otherworldly and felt as it whipped about what should have been surprise offensive by his opponent was but scripture of a heathen.
As blowback attempted to recoil all heat and shrapnel back towards the beast of Nazareth, left hand would dictate motion towards the left. Syn aware of the spell cast as seen by the shifting motions of ether allowed for time to prepare. Shrapnel and flame did flash backward towards his physique, called back using the momentum before that extended hand would come into clear effect. Synâs adept silent casting allowed Syn to dramatically slow the motion of shrapnel by starving the flames upon contact only to direct flame, metal and shards of pavement into a concise sphere no bigger than three inches in diameter.
The words that fell from Synâs prior were not simple words they were vocal components to something much larger, perceptive time slowing to fractions upon fractions as the wall began to decay internal combustion within the sphere ignited. Oxygen rich air coated with explosive agents roared to life as Aether mixed within the ignition and fired. The shrapnel sphere launched at sonic speeds, the very ground left scorched and turned to liquification upon enactment. A direct line would carry those condensed fragments of metal forward and beyond the decaying wall, capable of seeing where it once stood. Of course, Syn wasnât so dense as to attempt the same action thrice, once passed that remnants of wall and just before Crimâs body Synâs fingertips clicked hidden by the now current concussive blast that shattered window and wall. The spell reacted to the motion shattering that dense orb in the same way a shotgun slug erupts before contact. Each fragment spread wide within a cone. Destructive force amplified using the spell, akin to its namesake it was layered in its assault. Each of those small fragments were coated in Aether that explodes upon contact. Synâs deft use of spells revealed that he was capable of Aeromancy and Pyromancy to a proficient level. The spell reminiscent of Orbital bombardment as it rained down in shrapnel, explosives and flame.
Simultaneously as the spell released itself, Syn reloaded the hand cannon holstered it, instead within his hand was cross of ruby and gold, eyes still tranquil with Zen active. Contingencies in place as penumbra smoothed about the surface granting Syn three shadows upon the pavement. Their use remained dormant, cloaked within the blackened mist that still permeated in smoke rings about Synâs physique.
âI applaud that counter, come now Crim.â
- Wrath
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Post by Reno on Apr 15, 2020 23:13:53 GMT
Still not fast enough. Not even close. Mere sonic speed was a snail's pace to Crim, even while his physical capabilities were hindered by his Turk Jacket. Furthermore, he still had beyond ample time to react due to his opponent actually taking the time to slow the motion of all that nasty blowback material for the purposes of re-redirecting it once again. Given all that, there were dozens of different ways Crim could have reacted to his adversary's counter of his counterattack. He still had spells charged up and waiting to be unleashed, with more being tuned up as each second ticked by. However, he didn't want to expend those needlessly - best to save 'em for now - and besides that, he had other things in store anyway. He also still had whatever was being held back inside his jacket, which he certainly could have utilized to great effect in this case, but again, he saw no reason to jump the gun on any of that either. Fortunately, as with with his earlier maneuver, he really didn't need to do much at all, being that he'd already been preparing for this in a rather passive manner. And so, the ground gave way directly under Crim, crumbling into a dark abyss into which he descended and disappeared. This occurred just as Frick (Crim still had no idea what the guy's name even was) had launched his own attack. It was just slightly too little, too late, as its intended recipient - the good Captain - was no longer present in the target area. Instead, he stood about twenty meters below, on a subway platform between two empty passenger trains. Debris from above lied scattered all around him, and some decent-sized chunks continued to fall from the ceiling as the widespread destructive assault rained over the area where he once stood above. However, while quite powerful, the generally unfocused nature of the assault wasn't enough to completely destroy the street. Only the relatively small spot where Crim had stood, which had been weakened by his initial landing and subsequent...whatever the fuck anomaly was that he'd exerted upon it, had given way. Apparently, such had been his intent all along, though to what end, well, that'd remain to be seen. Maybe there was no real purpose behind it other than simple antics. Was that all it was? Was Crim just fucking around? He was sure that his opponent would realize in due time that he'd been bamboozled. Guy would have to figure out his own way down though. So, while he waited among the casual bits of mild destruction strewn about, Crim's right hand slipped briefly into his right pocket, at which point he activated his yPhone. "Hey, Paul," he said with a jovial grin. "How 'bout a little battle music to greet our guest?" A voice spoke back from his right side pants pocket. Sounded like...fucking Paul Shaffer? "Ah, uh yeah, haha. A little battle music, huh?"Static crackled for an instant over the subway's PA system before music began to play. Apparently the AI suite (which was programmed with the personality and voice of Paul Shaffer for some reason) on Crim's yPhone had just hacked the system for the express purpose of providing battle music. But... { BGM: "DĂžwn Under"} Crim began singing along as he waited for his foe. "Traveling in a fried-out Kombi, on a hippie trail, head full of zombie. I met a strange lady, she made me nervous. She took me in and gave me breakfast...and she said: Do you come from a land down under?" Jesus Christ...His stance actually remained the same as before: his left hand still concealed inside his jacket, his right still down by his hip. The Master Magic Materia continued to burn bright, but was now joined by a red Materia orb as well, glowing only faintly for the time being, as the Ether circuits in his jacket began to intensify once again. In spite of appearances, he was ever-vigilant. The 'battle music' continued to echo through the subway as he waited for Frick to show up.
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Post by đșđđđ on Apr 24, 2020 2:32:47 GMT
K I N G K I L L E R
The fire consumed the heavens its superheated touch liquefying glass, charring stone, and bubbling metal until it too melted. The cacophonous roar of aggravated forked tongues bellows into the silence, warped under the presence of their king as Synâs hands returned to their side as did the true destructive force of his spell become noticeable. From the heavens did more shrapnel erupt from each explosion forging across in a web of explosive junctions. The frenzy of flame and heat consumed asphalt and building alike. None of this, of course, would strike Crim at all, at least not yet, no. Syn saw through the tongues of flame and steel that Crim had dispersed into the subway beneath the city. With a wrist motion, fingers moving like a conductor to which flames instantaneously reacted to his call. Raised upward akin to a tidal wave only to crash down ravenously through the cavernous entrance. At speeds considered simultaneous flames would Instantaneously combust about the physical form of Crim as he began to sing. To explain a subway often has ventilation shafts beneath city streets, gaps where oxygen is rapidly drawn in through the suction of trains. Entrances from walkways and the like what may have been unorganised chaos above were as precise as it needed to be. The words âA flamethrower is not a precision weaponâ came to mind. The nature of each combustible sequence above and below ground was to consume crim. If not via roasting crim alive there was another way reliant on the very nature of fire was to absorb all oxygen and belch carbon monoxide into the air. If it were not by burning the man alive, suffocation was a good secondary from the same spell. There was another weapon to Synâs disposal, one that had laid dormant the entire time and feeding on his nether throughout the entire advent. Underground the penumbral ruled and here Syn was king. Synâs manifestation beneath the ground carried by only the casual gait of his steps, hands still about his sides, the triad of shadows blended within the flickering and dancing lights of the fire. A slow cant of the head to the right resumed as the music suddenly jars to a fault, his intention consumed the speakers as slowly âLand Down Underâ was replaced by jarring and constant guitars and a shredded voice of AC/DCâs Highway to Hell. Synâs presence could be felt now, suffocating as the flames danced and roared down above and within the tunnel, suffocating smoke pluming through the exhausts, however, this was not the primary concern. That belonged to the triggered awakening of Synâs umbral gift as Crimâs feet touched subway platform. Crimâs shadow had been consumed, eaten by the tainted shadows that spread throughout this whole subway and it would be felt as concurrently with the change of music sharpened obsidian manifesting at speeds of light were driven down from the ceiling, blackened pools of thickened ichor about Crimâs lower appendages with intent to anchor him to the ground, stalactites of obsidian enhanced by home-field advantage and a laid trap or as one could say dirty deeds were done dirt cheap. Within this subway, Syn was in his domain, as shown by the calm smile spread upon his lips.âYouâve done well but perhaps you should be listening for Hellâs Bells.â
- Syn
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Post by Reno on Apr 24, 2020 6:22:19 GMT
{ BGM: "Zaveid Battle"} Well, that was...something, all right. At a glance, it might have seemed like Crim had gotten himself into a whole heap-o-trouble, what with all the fire and smoke and shadowy shenanigans suddenly surrounding him from seemingly straight outta somewhere between left field and nowhere. But as usual, things were not so cut and dry. In fact, dry was about the furthest thing from this situation, but we'll get to that in due time. Fire! And lots of it! was an age-old remedy. A cure-all for most any malady. Demons? Fire. Bugs? Fire. Justin Bieber? All the fire in Toronto! Right in his stupid smarmy fuck-off face! Hahaha. But seriously though, conventional wisdom certainly held true that fire was indeed an effective way to get your message of death delivered, completely and thoroughly. How-to-the-ever, though, it really should be obvious by now that conventional wisdom simply wasn't all that reliable when it came to Crim El Furaga. To start with, Crim possessed a natural affinity to the element of Fire (along with Wind, Lightning, and Holy elements). As such, any Fire-based attacks would have to be extra-potent from the get-go in order to even make him blink. But wait! There's more! In addition to being a naturally gifted bastard in various elementally ways, Crim also did not shy away from exploiting various pieces of equipment to further bolster his already impressive combat resume. In this case? Well, more of that good ol' Crim-standard multi-layered goodness. First up was his Turk Jacket, which in addition to boosting his abilities with Materia, also provided additional Ether-based defenses. He also had his two combat bracers, Tenkai on the left arm, and Kaiten on the right, both of which were constructed from highly Ether-resistant materials, which jacked up his resistances even more. Was that it? Actually, no, it wasn't. Even the bandanna that he used to tie his wild red hair back into that trademark ponytail of his was imbued with Ether-resistant traits, which only served to add to the pile. All in all, considering his natural defenses, combined with the myriad benefits of his equipment, Crim was actually damn near capable of completely shrugging off just about any straight-up Fire-based Elemental assault. So when the flames started coalescing around him, his apparent lack of any and all concern may well have looked foolish to any casual onlookers, but those onlookers probably had no idea what was actually going on. Of course getting burned alive was going to be a bad time for 99% of folks. Of course they would be in searing agony over it. Of course the primary objective ought to have been to get the fuck outta there, lickety-fucking-splickety-doo! Aye, but not for Crim. Not even a little bit. Which is why the way it all ended up unfolding was particularly funny, in about the most anticlimactic way possible. Turns out, the very systems that allowed the flames to propagate so rapidly, also served to house systems specifically designed to extinguish them as well. Yes, ye olde fire suppression systems, courtesy of: civilized society. The flames barely had any time to flicker around Crim before they were summarily extinguished by the deluge of high-pressure sprinklers from the automated drones and wall-mounted apparatuses that swarmed the area, bringing with them what could only be described as a miniature, localized, artificial underground downpour. This effectively rendered the suffocation aspect inert as well...not that that would have actually affected Crim much, either. He was used to going without oxygen for prolonged periods of time, due to his high speed movement necessitating the displacement of particles via Ether Fields and Tenken Barriers and what not. Plus, he could also temporarily fuel his body using Ether if he really had to, though that was a bit taxing. Fuckin' moot, anyways! Which left...ah, right. The strange sneaky shadow snatcher. Really? Trying that old hat? "Hah. Don't bother," Crim muttered with no shortage of disdain in his voice. Whatever dark shadow-manipulation mojo Frick was attempting to muster, ultimately, had no effect on Crim. His presence was far too powerful to be affected by something so basic, and there were multiple (as usual) factors in play to that end as well. Not only was his sheer force of will more than enough to simply disperse any such attempts that came anywhere close to his immediate vicinity, but he also happened to be the bearer of a certain minor deity upon his right hand, which naturally expelled any such forms of fuckery as a simple matter of course. To even think about getting close to Crim with any kind of technique such as that, one would have to be backing it up with an entire planet's worth of power, at minimum, and even then, without properly and adequately setting the stage, it would still end up being driven back continuously until it exhausted itself due to a lack of a proper infinite source. But, really, it also just so happened that Crim didn't buy into any of that 'yer shadow is bindededed bwahahaha!!!' mumbo-jumbo. Buncha hocus-pocus stuff'n nonsense is all that was! Still, he was starting to get kinda sick and tired of all these freakin' nothingburgers. He reckoned it was comin' up on high time to get started pretty soon here. The Master Magic Materia slotted in his Tenkai Bracer had since regained its previous level of intensity, and then some. Meanwhile, the red-colored Materia's glow had grown increasingly fierce as well. Having weathered this storm with nary a scratch, and truly, without having to even lift a proverbial finger (was it luck, or was it skill, maybe both?), Crim remained in his previous stance, left hand lingering inside his jacket (golden Ether circuits all lit up), and his right down by his hip. No discernible difference to his aura, though...or lack thereof. But something was odd about that. Really, that was something that should have stuck out as being incredibly strange from the outset. The answer was likely in plain sight. Maybe the plainest sight imaginable. Crim stared down his opponent across the twenty-odd meters distance that separated them, enduring a good and thorough soaking in the ongoing artificial rainstorm, his eyes momentarily flashing with a heretofore unknown power. Or...was it? Hold on...didn't it feel kind of familiar? Like the energy of life itself, or something? The ambient, background energy that was literally everywhere at once. "Last chance to turn tail, my bucko," Crim spoke with a jovial tone, but unlike before, there was also something else there. Not a threat. More like a promise of some kind. And not of a pleasant variety, either. |
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Post by đșđđđ on May 10, 2020 5:13:08 GMT
K I N G K I L L E R Vibrant aquamarine eye focuses upon crim with serene calm, unrelenting focus on the crimson haired male as he stood languidly. Boredom upon his face as flame and steel erupt and consume his form in a rolling ten-meter-wide sphere in which was wholeheartedly and essentially non effective at all. The manâs presumed natural affinity with the primordial element and the various magi-tech he wore brushed effortlessly away those flames Syn had conjured only for their dance to be interrupted by the squealing of a consistent alarm. The hiss of fire defeated as smoke turned to steam cleansing the subway network of Synâs fireball in similar effortless motion. The entire subway network now drenched in a particularly cold localised rainstorm from drone, sprinkler and pipe spread throughout the station and about the two subway trains. Pools of the chilled water converging on oil slick, gum covered and scuffed subway floor. Walls dripped with miniature rivulets seeping underneath the platform where it converged and amalgamated with shadows. It would become clearly obvious that Syn was not usually capable of fighting with such a clarity for all the effective brunt and force was void from all attacks. Even with abyssal mysticism a perfected skill, Synâs assault lacked any outright murderous force, no intent and as such were brushed away to the point of ten meters away from Crim, the obsidian spires striking downward dripping inky water to the floor, pooling at their feet. Useless in assault but pleasant in wall decoration. It was however the rune emblazoned upon Crimâs hand with its feint activation that caught his attention, their presence now alerted. Syn wasnât done with darkness yet, no it would become apparent later. Eyes would retain their focus upon Crim, hand still upon his hip as master materia took to luminescence once more. So vibrant did they glow they bathed the entire platform in the colours of Christmas, hinted with vague lines of gold effluence from the Turks jacket he wore. The manâs Aura still void of aether of course, perhaps it was a hint at something greater, Syn didnât much care if it was a clone, a duplicate or some various other form of trickery, what he did care about was now the boredom was beginning to show for him. A soft sigh escapes the perpetual businessman as his left hand rose to his mouth and covered it, right hand still holding a cross, body loose. âHonestly, you sound like a god damned lawyer, always trying to have the last moment of âYou can back out you knowâ. If I wanted to back out, I would have left to go save my compatriot from those bafoons and killed them. Itâd be a quick way to make a buck.â As Syn spoke, he took a single step backwards into the clutches of penumbra. Synâs mastered affinity of the abyss allowed him effortless transitions within the worlds of darkness. Transported in one effortless motion from twenty meters away to twenty-five meters away, ten to the right and up twelve to be at a forty-five-degree angle. Synâs presence now atop the roof of a subway cart, drenched in the continual spraying of water. Water that pooled within his realm of influence, water that amalgamated with each material sin, each disease-ridden oil slick of shitty soap and saliva. It welled in places where light would never touch and in plain sight simultaneously. Consider it reactive, Syn called it a capitalisation on an environmental benefit. âTime, I guess I stopped fucking around though.â Synâs words were once smooth and clearly enunciated now held reverberating bass akin to the rumblings of volcanoes. A breath escaped Synâs lungs as smoke billowed free past his lips, aquamarine eye growing in its incandescence to a vibrant jewel. Zen was repulsed, equilibrium of clarity was voided and replaces with his namesake â Wrath. Relentless and unforgiving through mindset change, physique responding as its performance peak increased well above standard supernatural means in all attributes and senses. For a moment wings of smoke, bone and blood could be visible extending from Synâs spine unfurling or was it just the mind games being played? With a slow and steady breath, a wicked grin across Synâs features. Synâs presence felt as his animosity took to the corrosive destruction of the environment around them. Lights flickered rapidly throughout the subway station, some even bursting creating dense pockets of darkness, red emergency lights activate as electrical systems short, LED and Holographic screens burst, drink and snack dispensers begin to rapidly eject their contents, paint peels from the walls as posters tarnish in their place. Nozzleâs burst from the sprinkler systems, whole pipes rupture as water begins to rapidly spill into the subway drenching all it touched in its cold, except for Syn as it whirled about his immediate person as if repelled by aethereal means. Syn took a single step forward towards Crim, left hand brushing away black drenched strands from his face as the carriage he stood upon buckled, collapsing in against its wheels. Syn did not speak at first, instead his right hand rose, revealing to crim his forefinger, golden chain coiled about it, the head of a rubied cross visible within his palm as Syn wagged his finger. Syn was an archdemon, darkness and the sub terra were as home to him as the pearly gates of heaven once were. To discount or discredit him here was to spit upon the very creation of him. The eye of Judas was focused intently upon Crim, it saw everything now. The veins of aether that he drew from, he didnât care for how vibrant they looked, rather that in darkness they were beacons to the assassin. Preparations for what was soon to come.âTsk Tsk, now I can finally stretch my wings. I will have to eclipse my prior self. Consider it a bad judgement choice to think of you like the rest of the worms I had so little effort to kill. You, you will take me to a limit and world I have never seen before. I look forward to that.â The words bit through Synâs venomous mouth, black Ichor passing synâs crimson lips as the darkness bent to his unhinged, demonic rulership. Syn was a Sin, as unholy as a beast could become, no god or man could fathom the depth of a seven deadly sinâs power. To destroy it or cease its force was to commit the ultimate act of genocide for every soul felt wrath and as such it was a universal power source unlike any other. The entire subway network, not just this platform but the entire network would begin to feel far more removed from society than it did before. Lights were snuffed out by darkness, sound was muffled until silent, rapidly the darkness of damnation would visit itself upon this plane. It would take more than will and minor god to cease the summoning of the Sixth Eclipse. Synâs laughter would be consumed as he stepped back into the eternal penumbra as it consumed everything, including smothering the gaping whole in the ceiling. Its dormancy awoken by Syn prior, its seed laid upon their first meeting and fed ever since. It was like staring into ventablack, or the centre of a blackhole. Everything within this subway network it touched lost its shape and form, completely lost in the darkness. Its touch all inclusive, nothing within this subway network was free from it. Syn was, however capable to hunt his prey within the primeval darkness. The eye of Judas as stated prior allowed him to see far more than the material plane. Syn had throughout their combat committed Crimâs master materia, turk jacket and even his absence of personal aether to memory, familiarising himself with them. Syn could and would use their imprint upon the planes to hunt Crim. Synâs speed and strength was astronomically improved as he appeared opposite crim to the effect of thirty meters to the left, two large drink dispensers hoisted effortlessly from the ground to which with a pivot to the right, whole body motion as he discus threw the first of the two drink dispensers towards Crim aiming to rail the man in the chest with enough force that if not dodged the dispenser would collide and dent the rail cart behind him the second was the astronomical speed increase in which Syn threw it upwards to a mag-rail bullet round. The second would be held onto for now.
- wrath
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Post by Reno on May 12, 2020 2:39:26 GMT
{ BGM: "Last Surprise"} Maybe all this grimdark doom'n gloom stuff was something that worked on rookie adventurers and paranoid priests, but the idea that it would phase a maniac like Crim was, well, kind of really dumb. Not that he thought that Frack (or was it Frick? He couldn't remember now, still had no idea what the guy's actual name even was) thought that's what Frack's intention was. Heck, Crim could sense the intention loud and clear now - wrath. He knew it'd only be a matter of time before that familiar sentiment reared its blazing ugly mug again. It always did. Anyway, for Crim, darkness manifesting and putrefying everything up and down and sideways really wasn't anything to write home about. He'd been to Hell before, and worse. The Hell of Hells? Yeah, something like that. Demons and evil power and all that such and such didn't irk him in the slightest, and in fact, his own personal skill set, powers, equipment, and raw experience actually made him almost uniquely well-suited for combating such things. Normally this is the kind of crap that cleric and paladin-type do-gooders would be called in for. Nobody would ever expect a ne'er-do-well criminal bastard like himself to possess these kinds of abilities. But, y'know, that whole 'expect the unexpected' was a rule of thumb for a pretty good reason. Shame that so many people seemed to not take it seriously enough most of the time. Crim observed his foe as he manipulated the darkness to his various apparent whims. Rapid movement via some manner of shadowy hippity-hoppity voodoo? Interesting, but still easily managed at this stage. Yeesh, guy sure liked to talk a lot, though. But that was fine. Gave him more time to charge his Materia. Turk Jacket was nearing its limit, though, but that was fine too. Actually, that was always part of the plan regardless. Aye, he knew what the guy was trying to do, all right. Pretty obvious ploy. And not a particularly effective one, either. Well, not in this particular case, anyway. Might've been good against someone less savvy and well-equipped than the Captain, but there wasn't any point in speculating about that at this point. Oh, the reason? Right, that is something of an important detail, isn't it? In all reality, it was actually a pretty simple. Something that had been hiding in plain sight even before Crim had set foot on this planet. See, prior to a certain battle on a certain planet known as Vestusio, Crim had always made sure to consciously suppress his own power when he wasn't fighting. And even during regular battles, he only allowed a fraction of it to come out in most situations. That battle, however, had revealed to him the folly of such methods. He'd learned how constraining and pointless it really was to expend effort doing that, especially at his level. Which was why he had ditched the concept completely, in favor of something quite the opposite. Now, instead of trying to hide it actively all the time, forcibly keeping it under wraps, he simply allowed it free reign. Given the nature of his particular power - the ability to draw in and access Ether from virtually any source - this meant that he effectively blended in to the background as a result. His vast power 'at rest' became virtually indistinguishable from the ambient Ether that existed and permeated all space in any given location. After all, he was able to tap into it as he desired, anyway. This was the reason why it appeared as though he wasn't generating an aura of his own. Why it so perplexingly seemed like he wasn't particularly powerful, in spite of the fact that such clearly was not the case. It wasn't that he had no Ether power to speak of. It was that his power was so vast, that comprehending it was akin to attempting to observe and entire galaxy while standing on a planet orbiting around inside of it. This was also why his opponent's 'trap', as it were, ultimately had no real impact. The gathering darkness was amassing, sure, but it was all within the pre-existing sphere of Crim's power, which he was only now beginning to properly draw upon. But not fully. Not yet. Just a taste, for now. First, though, that attack. How sudden. Or rather, Crim's response to it was sudden. "Zeeuvia, if you would." He commanded in thought. "...As you wish, master." A slightly annoyed female voice replied in his mind. Right then, at the last possible instant before the beverage machine would have hit him square on, a swirling white vortex appeared in front of Crim and swallowed the machine, and vanished. In the exact same moment, an identical void opened up right next to Frack, a mere two meters away on his left, and the machine came hurtling out, momentum fully intact, giving him an extremely small window of time to even react, let alone move to dodge or defend. This little 'trick' was all thanks to Crim's unusual pact with the space-time Goddess known as Zeeuvia. Though it did indeed irk her to be at the beck and call of a mere mortal, she had little choice in the matter. The mark upon Crim's left hand (a stylized 'Z' symbol of sorts) flashed briefly, the only thing signifying that something had been performed on his end. Redirecting a flying drink machine was less than child's play for Zeeuvia, after all. Avoiding the near point-blank reversal of the hurled machine was probably a tall order on its own, but it was made even more difficult by Crim's further interference in the form of a plethora of spells from his nearly full-to-bursting Master Magic Materia. Given that he'd had a ton of time to charge things up since his last cast, he was able to hit a number of different notes this time around. Quite the doozy, too. Right as the white void spat the high-velocity vending machine out, Crim surrounded his foe with dozens of Gravitic Warp Sphere spells, which was yet another fusion-type casting of the Captain's own design. An amalgamation of Wall, Graviga, and Slow spells, which manifested in a linked spherical pattern, at about five meters distance, all around the wrathful darkness-wielding fellow. The effect was multi-fold. First, the powerful high-gravity waves emanating from the sphere placed incredibly high pressure upon everything within it, and with so many spells linked together, it ended up being roughly equivalent to about one-hundred times the gravity of an Earth-like planet crushing down upon every square inch of anyone and anything within it. Now, being that Wall was technically a protective spell, it actually wasn't keeping Frack trapped within - he was free to leap out of the sphere at any time. Away from that horrible (possibly lethal) compounded gravity that, at the very least, probably didn't feel too good. But in doing so, he would have to pass through the second aspect of the spell, which was the 'Slow' Time Magic effect that laced the surrounding Wall. Weather the storm, or risk the potential ill-effects of passing through the Nefarious Mystery Wall? Crim figured the guy had ways of discerning various things at this point, but with the sheer amount of troublesome variables he'd suddenly introduced to the game, he was pretty sure it would serve his purposes plenty good enough. Wait, you mean he had other 'purposes' still? Yes. Try to keep up, now. { BGM: "Nox Divina"} The Captain smirked as the other Materia, the red one, began to unleash its own payload as well. This 'unfortunately' caused the Ether circuits of his Turk Jacket to blaze with one final burst of power before burning out, but its job had been done all the same. Smoke drifted up from his now 'normal' jacket, the circuitry no longer visible. But now a different, decidedly much more fearsome energy seemed to replace it. This was actually the aforementioned 'taste' of his 'true' power. It crackled up from his feet, in the form of electricity-like green, white and black bolts raw Ether. But these manifestations were pale nothings (for now, anyway) in the face of the colossal power that was amassing above the blackness. A massive rift opened in the sky above the city, directly over their location. Normally, a phenomenon like this would cause people to run screaming and panicking for shelter, but thanks to various protocols and a fair bit of help from a certain First Mate, the innocent bystanders had all been evacuated to safety by now. This was why Crim was seemingly less inclined to hold back, now. "You shoulda taken the offer," Crim spoke as the power of his own Ether gradually stacked up and mingled with that of the immense energy linked to the summon Materia that he had activated. Suddenly from the rift in the sky, a massive red sword with menacing gold spikes all along its double-edged glory, descended and cleaved through the gathering darkness, rending it and seeding it with energy that radiated like the sun itself. The blade thrust into the ground between the two fighters' positions, standing at least two stories tall and gleaming with radiance, as the ceiling above crumbled away, allowing more and more of the natural light of day to shine through. As this happened, the owner of the blade floated down into the newly created caldera-like open cavern. A gigantic robot? Yes, indeed. But not just any robot! This was a Legendary SUPER Robot. It stood tall, gleaming in the light, its golden wings shining, its multicolored crimson, aquamarine and white body radiant with passion and strength! The center of its chest depicted the head of a mighty red lion, whose roar erupted with the force of an unchecked typhoon, blasting dangerous shockwaves outward. The robot gripped the blade and raised it high, reflecting the sunlight and unleashing wave after wave of its own power and unrivaled prominence. It truly was enormous, and brilliant to behold... "Erde Kaiser Sigma," Crim spoke from his position behind the summoned machine. His own power still crackled and swirled about him, though his stance yet remained unaltered, even after all this, with his left hand concealed within his jacket and his right hovering near his hip. The red Summon Materia glowed fiercely for the time being, as it would for a time while it maintained Erde Kaiser Sigma's presence in this world, where it would fight alongside Crim until it was either banished, or expended too much energy to remain tethered here. Oh, you trickster, you...but we both know that wasn't REALLY your "last surprise", ha ha ha... |
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Post by đșđđđ on Jun 14, 2020 2:46:59 GMT
K I N G K I L L E R
Primordial prowess was beyond even Synâs understanding and considerable battle-hardened intellect as once again Crim was able to manoeuvre the penumbral effect to their whim once again. The mastermind of Crim, as Syn would come to loathe was as sharp as it was riddled with smarmy character, something that Syn took for granted and allowed his arrogance to be used advantageously against him. As proven by Crimâs effortless motion to not only remove the projectile from his space but rather return it to the sender.
With such force did the vending machine collide with Synâs left side he was thrown directly into the spell sphere laid by Crim. A vicious grunt would be the only sound torn from Synâs lips upon impact. However, due to Synâs preternatural conditioning and creation, such a blow was beyond minimal to near ineffective in damage. The vending machineâs contents sprawled out across the floor, visible to Syn through the effect of his eye of Judas. What Crim hadnât accounted for was how at home Syn was within the sphere, the crushing weight of 100x the gravity of an Earth-like planet barely causing his kneeâs to buckle before Syn was capable of standing to his full height. Syn was a being of creation and destruction and as such his body was far more capable of withstanding the effects of space and time, only amplified by the white-hot bestial frenzy of nether that surged through his body. Head tilting slightly, Syn dropped the other vending machine as it began to crumble like a can effortlessly under the weight.
Synâs eyes laid upon Crim, as his arms extended outward to near the spherical cage, palms up as if a sign of âso what, this the best you got?â All that time and the best Crim could launch was 100x the gravity of an Earth-like planet? To Syn that seemed comical, so comical he would begin to laugh. Such hysterical sounding would reverberate through the penumbra as he and the darkness were one. However, Syn would cease to laugh as Crim would speak and make a motion, Synâs eyes drawn to the now covered hole that was once an opening curious to see what Crim was about to reveal. A soft chuckle escaping his lips.
âI never back down or run, that would be a stain on my legacy and Iâd rather die with some concept of pride.â Syn spat back, attention returning to Crim through the penumbra. He knew he could walk out of this aethereal cage but why would he? He was far too intrigued to see what all this grandiose show of power was leading to and did Crim ever deliver! A flash of red to spear the void bringing with it momentary light before the void would coil back and roil at the brilliance of this weapon. A gigantic robot created by Crimâs brilliance. Syn truly was out of his depth, but with pride, he would die if that were to be it.
âGo on, do it, Crim. Show me what your pretty robot can do!â
- Wrath
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Post by Reno on Jun 14, 2020 22:02:05 GMT
{ BGM: "Battle God of Steel"} Erde Kaiser Sigma's eyes flashed with gleaming golden energy as the enormous super robot set its sights upon Crim's adversary. It swung its blade aside in a broad sweeping arc, which sent forth a tremendous wave of Ether and raw physical force, causing widespread damage to the already largely ruined underground structure. Of course, this wasn't even meant as a direct attack: it was simply excess power being unleashed due to the summon itself being so strong that it was positively overflowing with energy that had nowhere else to go. Immediately following this action, Erde Kaiser Sigma leaped into the air and hovered, as its wings began to glow with a fierce gold light. "RADIANT WINGS," the super robot spoke in a booming mechanical voice. Waves of golden Ether energy burst forth from its wings, blasting everything in a wide conical area in front of its position into a shattered oblivion. Crim, meanwhile, stood behind his summoned monstrosity, but he didn't remain idle. His own aura intensified, and in particular, a mass of green and black Ether had begun to concentrate around his right hand, which he now held extended forward, his fingers spread apart, but slowly contracting as he twisted his wrist inward to make his palm turn up towards the sky. As he did this, the spell he had cast earlier began to also constrict itself, like it was imploding. As it closed in, the gravitic forces within began to increase as well, going from one hundred times, to double that, then double again, and again. The walls were closing in. And through all this, Erde Kaiser Sigma was far from through in unleashing its devastating assault. Immediately on the heels of the Radiant Wings, which had collided with Crim's gravity-bound opponent in a most spectacular fashion, pelting him with both Ether and physical force, in addition to several large chunks of high speed debris, the mouth of the lion head that adorned the summoned super robot's chest opened up, and a radically bright white-red energy was revealed. To look upon it was akin to staring directly into the heart of a blazing star. "FURY BEAM."After an extreme and rapid build-up of energy, Erde Kaiser Sigma fired off an outlandish payload of searing Ether in the form of a straight beam that was of sufficient power to annihilate a U-TIC warship outright - shields, armor and all. Fortunately for the target, the concentrated Wall spells that made up a portion of the Gravitic Warp Sphere that surrounded him actually managed to block a portion (albeit small) of the incoming white-hot energy. This had the effect of cancelling out the Wall, which in turn dispersed the increasingly powerful extreme gravity, which had been building up to the point of becoming a singularity. Though it was hard to say whether that was a benefit or not, considering the fact that the beam still managed to mostly get through and absolutely devastate good ol' Frick. Or was it Frack? Whichever. Not like it mattered much at this point. Whether he was even still intact after all this seemingly didn't make much of a difference, because in spite of that, the super robot still wasn't finished. It raised its deep red blade above its head, once again unleashing waves of excess power that shocked and crumbled the surroundings even further, purely on accident. "SUPREME EMPEROR."This time, however, the summoned super robot brought the blade back, only to hurl it forth with all of its absurd might. The gigantic sword spun forward end over end as it sliced through the air, coming to a halt only once it thrust into the exact spot where Crim's opponent stood. Or once stood. Was it a direct hit? Possibly. Likely. But even if it hadn't been, the resultant explosion of pitch dark and shining white energy, crackling with bolts and exploding bursts of primordial power, like that associated with the birth of the universe itself, was more than adequate to absolutely annihilate anything in its wake. And that was precisely the result, as when the proverbial dust settled, the entire space for dozens of meters all around had been utterly wiped from existence, leaving nothing but a smooth, perfectly spherical empty space some thirty meters deep in all directions, where matter once occupied reality. No traces remained. It was otherworldly. At this point, the red Materia slotted in Crim's bracer had nearly expelled all of its pent-up energy. Erde Kaiser Sigma was a summon of such obscene power that it truly could not exist in the physical world for very long at all, even if it held back and didn't unleash fucking armageddon straight out of the gate. And hell, who would summon something like this without such an intent to begin with? A fucking namby-pamby assole, that's who! Crim laughed as shimmering pockets of white and green magical energy began to rise from the body of Erde Kaiser Sigma, signifying that its time was up, at least for now. "Well done, ya big goddamn bastard! Haha!" He gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to Erde Kaiser Sigma as it faded away. In turn, the super robot simply nodded in acknowledgment, seemingly satisfied with the exchange. Perhaps it enjoyed showcasing its array of impressive skills and ridiculous firepower to mere mortals on occasion? Crim had no idea, but he did know that it was damned awesome every time. He just wished he could figure out a way to get it to stay longer. He really wanted a crack at piloting it sometime... Eh, something to keep in mind for another time! Right now, he had...well, not bigger fish to fry. Actually, it seemed like he didn't have any fish to fry. "Hmm. Guess he died," Crim said as he looked out over the affected area. "Whoops! Haha! Ah well!" He crouched, then launched himself back up to the surface, leaving the wrecked-to-shit subway behind. Back topside, he looked around, shifting his gaze side to side, up and down. Seemed pretty quiet. But that didn't mean he was outta any woods yet. In fact, if anything, the quiet meant that some more bullshit was likely afoot. "Yeah, some kinda son-of-a-bitch is probably right around the corner already. Well, I ain't tricked! And I ain't buyin' any of your dictionaries or your cassette decks either!" He lit up a bent cigarette, inhaled deeply, then jammed his hands in his pockets and started walking further into the city, all hunched-over, like some kind of delinquent, muttering various expletives to himself as he went. "Didn't even catch that fella's name. I'll be sure to remember that face though. And that power. Got a feelin' about that one." Crim thought to himself as he walked along, remaining alert yet calm. It was still pretty much midday, and the sun remained high and blazing bright as ever. Yeah, still plenty of time left for mayhem, eh? Ha ha ha... |
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:53:54 GMT
RENO @ 29 AUG 20 1629
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:54:54 GMT
ILYA @ 02 SEP 20 2127
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:55:34 GMT
RENO @ 03 SEP 20 1822
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:56:29 GMT
ILYA @ 04 SEP 20 2218
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:57:22 GMT
RENO @ 05 SEP 20 1812
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:58:09 GMT
ILYA @ 12 SEP 20 1033
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:58:45 GMT
RENO @ 13 SEP 20 0639
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 15:59:57 GMT
ILYA @ 19 SEP 20 0918
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 16:00:41 GMT
RENO @ 19 SEP 20 1153
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 16:01:44 GMT
ILYA @ 23 SEP 20 2046
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 16:02:24 GMT
RENO @ 24 SEP 20 1942
[/color]
The buildings in the vicinity had certainly seen better days though! One moment, their foundations melting, the next, rapidly cooled, only to end up being superheated again, then subjected to tidal waves of crashing water. And after all that, pelted by heckin' meteor fragments from a cosmic being. Rough days, I tell ya! Good thing the corporate entities that occupied these spaces had deep ass pockets and big time insurance policies. Crim wasn't exactly worried about their bottom lines, anyway. Not like he held any stocks with any of the companies around these parts. Well, not as far as he knew at least. Actually, it'd been a while since he'd even checked on his portfolio. Well, no matter. It'd all work itself out in the end anyway! It always worked out somehow. He had more pressing concerns at the moment, anyway. Namely...how would the girl come at him now? Would she realize that her excessive heat would no longer provide her with any sort of measurable advantage? He wasn't trying to conceal anything at this point, at least not as far as the general scope of his weapon's bestowed abilities were concerned. Didn't feel there was any reason to, and even if he did, it'd be a waste of time and effort. At this stage, it would be more trouble than it was even worth. That being said, he wasn't entirely sure if she was capable of 'sensing' the change in his power. Sometimes android-types were just a bit on the limited side when it came to this sort of thing. But on the other hand, sometimes they were excessively perceptive. Such variety! Kind of like people. But this was no time to be waxing philosophical over the nature of artificial beings.
Crim waited to see what'd happen next. True, he could have immediately bored his way down into the planet, himself. Hell, he could have let DaiKeiOh's meteor accomplish that task all by itself! But he didn't want to outright destroy the entire city core of Nova Fall if he didn't need to. Not that it was faring all that well, but it could at least be salvaged and rebuilt with relative ease at this point. Outright cratering the whole thing wasn't entirely necessary...yet.
"All right, Missy, let's have at it now," Crim spoke with a smirk, not certain as to whether she'd even be able to hear his taunt. He figured it didn't matter either way.[/QUOTE]
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 16:03:03 GMT
ILYA @ 28 SEP 20 2229
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 16:03:38 GMT
RENO @ 29 SEP 20 1708
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Ralf Grey, First Mate of the Yggdrasil Space Pirates, sat in the commander's chair in the center of the main bridge of the Yggdrasil V as he observed the goings-on planetside, via the large main holoscreen (in glorious Future-Tech Ultimate Billion-K HD or whatever). He tensed up as he watched the Captain summon one of those 'Cosmic God' blades of his. It was rare for Crim to call upon something of that magnitude, which meant that he either saw it as a necessity, or...
"First Mate, what should we do?" Chauncy Stiller, the young yet highly experienced long time helmsman of the Ygg Crew asked.
"Maintain current orbit, observe the situation," Ralf replied, his voice stern as he leaned forward and rested his bearded face against his hands, which he pressed together as if to 'pray'.
Of course, he was no religious zealot. Far from it. But if the Captain went too far...prayer would be their only option.[/QUOTE]
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Post by Killiak on Nov 19, 2023 16:08:20 GMT
ILYA @ 07 OCT 20 0932
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