City of Perfection

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Snœflæk on Sun Oct 18, 2015 10:56 pm

Carlyle lowers his spear, sheathing it.
"Forgive me, Sister, I was rash," Carlyle turns to the Priestess, "This is my fault..."
Carlyle gazes heavenward, in the direction of the wyvern.
"I will see what I can do to extricate the corrupted from the child, I'll meet you at the monastery."
Carlyle runs towards the skyscraper before the Priestess has time to argue. He grapples on and, thanks to his experience in the Cathedral Ruins, is able to scale the building at an extraordinary pace.

As he climbs over the ledge, he takes a minute to catch his breath. Carlyle makes sure the metal globs were still with him.
They are.
Turning his sights on the wyvern and its stowaways, He focuses the metallic blobs on the two corrupted. As the globs contact and surround them, he solidifies them.
"Leave Guivre's child alone!"
Carlyle shrieks as  he rips the corrupted from the wyvern.
After a moment of thought, Carlyle sends the solid glob containing the barbarian off away from the skyscraper, no longer in his control. He brings the other to the skyscraper in front of him, and liquefies the metal, moves it away from the man, and lets it out of his control. A large crack is heard as that metal instantaneously solidifies.
Carlyle raises his spear, pointed at the man.
"I won't kill you so long as you don't show me that I must."


Last edited by Nodney the Great on Mon Oct 19, 2015 8:49 pm; edited 4 times in total
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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Fi Skirata on Sun Oct 18, 2015 11:12 pm

"Fang"

Fang noticed the approach of the woman before the Technician, he clenched the hilt of his blade tightly, not knowing whether she was a threat or not.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Megantron on Sun Oct 18, 2015 11:51 pm

Kay

As I approached the two, I noticed the man instinctively place a hand on the hilt of his weapon. In turn, I brought my hands up in surrender as if to say that I mean no harm. Unnecessary bloodshed is the last thing I wanted to deal with right now.

"Hello," I spoke first. "I was guided here for some reason. I must know why."

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Panzer Lancer on Mon Oct 19, 2015 12:21 am

Technician

"Ah, you came!" I call out to the newcomer. Nice, that's two here; I'll be able to start the briefing soon. Alas, I still hadn't answered Fang's question; in truth, I wasn't sure how I was to answer it. "Well, we Technicians aren't given names. There is no need, according to the network. We're bound to our assigned terminals and administer the system, so to use human conventions such as names would be unnecessary for us," I respond to the best of my ability. I then turn to the newcomer, analyzing her for a moment first. "You are... Oh, I think I have the files here." I pause for a moment to open the files the system sent me. "Right, the only female of the group the system directed here, that makes it easy. Kay, right? Says here you're a Fae. And... Oh my, you have a connection to her, do you?" I giggle a bit. "Anyways, neither of you need be alarmed; you can't be hurt while inside my terminal's domain anyways, so feel free to put down your weapons and relax," I try to convince the two hostile parties. It's true that everything in this room, and in the surrounding area, has been set in a perpetual state of stability, but I'd rather not have these Seekers get off to a bad start, especially since I'll need them in one condition to perform the required tasks in the Ghetto.

"You were probably guided here because you were searching for power, Kay," I tell the Fae woman. Then, it came to me. Surely these Seekers grow bored, and their instinct to fight and grow stronger surpass their instinct for comfort. Perhaps I could send them on their first, simple quest. I turn to make sure that both Fang and Kay are paying attention to me. "Unfortunately, the others who were called here are getting a bit carried away right now; a certain witch and beast are occupying them right now. You can rest here if you'd like, or maybe you can go and fetch the others the system called. Ah, but don't worry, you'll know who they are. There's really nobody else left in the Ghetto anymore, aside from some Fire Fanatics, so just don't bring back anybody wearing a suspicious red robe and you'll be fine. Ah, but make sure you return before dawn. You don't wanna be out when Guivre's awake."

Vouivre

...The Corrupted don't change. Though I tell them clearly that the wyvern won't harm them if they simply leave it to its business with me, they continue to struggle and attempt to subdue it. Anytime there is something weaker than them, they will destroy it and consume it. Ah... Why do the Corrupted have so little compassion. That is why I became a High Priestess of Alexia; to teach them compassion through Her grace. And yet...

It is appalling to see these heathens treat the child of the Holy Beast so cruelly. If Guivre learns of this, she may no longer grant mercy to our Monastery in her rage. And neither could I blame her; the loss of a child is far too much a burden for any mother to bear. And yet, I am powerless. I cannot stop them. My prayers cannot reach them. The two Corrupted continue to bring pain to the poor creature. Why... Why have I been left in such a weak state. Were this fifty years ago... If only I hadn't...

I clench my fists in determination. I can only hope and pray for the Wyvern's safety, for it to fight valiantly against these savage hunters. I quickly make my way to the edge of town, away from the other Corrupted. The child will then know that I am no longer threatened; it will break free of the hunters' chains and find me, and thus they, with no prey to hunt, will make their way to the Oracle that has called them here.
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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Nexeria on Mon Oct 19, 2015 1:00 am

Salvek "Forge" Correntius

"Not again!" I exclaimed as the beast forced me and the barbarian high into the air. I clutched my hands around the rope tightly - the wind blasting against my eyes while sending a roaring howl into my ears - as the creature slams into the window of skyscraper. I release a hand - risking a great fall to another unpleasant demise - simply to shield my I eyes from the shattered glass and rock debris hurling toward me.

I hear the barbarian let out a joyous laughter, this is obviously something he lives for. Then I hear something more unpleasant ring through my ears. "Stop... Please... Let the wyvern go! It only wants me. Please, release the wyvern and get away from me!"

"What?!" I responded enraged and confused, never have I met a human soul that defends these cruel beasts. For what reason would one keep these things alive? Perhaps I am missing some vital information, I must warn the barbarian.

I grip harder onto the ropes, praying I won't fall again, and begin to inch my closer towards the monster while attempting to avoid any incoming obstacles. As I catch a better a view of the Barbarian, I see him lick his blade before mutating into some strange abomination. His body now sharing similar features with the wyvern, the sight of it absolutely confounds me. Regardless, he still appears to be mostly human.

"Barbarian! Stop this madness! I fear we are making a grave mistake!" I call out to him, unsure if he can even hear me. "Barbari- Agh!" Suddenly, a strange glob of liquid metal encapsulates my entire body - leaving only my head exposed - before quickly tightening around my armor.

"Leave Guivre's child alone!" The Priestess's companion bellows to me and the Barbarian.

The lightbringer uses his power to hurl the beast-man off the wyvern; I wonder if he'll survive the fall. As the man lowers me atop one of the towers, releasing me from confinement, and draws his spear upon me, I pull my right arm back high above my head - readying my war hammer - and begin to super-charge the arcane my left hand preparing myself the potential duel standing before me.

"I won't kill you so long as you don't show me that I must."

"You won't kill me at all!" I howl back at the man. "But what you will do is explain to me why you and the Priestess allow that beast to live! Who is this Guivre?!"


Last edited by Nexeria on Tue Oct 20, 2015 1:47 am; edited 6 times in total

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Fi Skirata on Mon Oct 19, 2015 9:32 pm

"Fang"

The man didn't take his hand from the hilt of his blade, but he gave what could possible pass for a friendly nod towards Kay. If she was another Seeker, he was willing to respect that. They weren't enemies.

After the Technician's explanation, Fang saw himself to the door. "I'll go see if I can find the rest of your seekers. I'm getting restless standing around here." He hesitated.

The fact that the Technician didn't have a name bothered him. She said it wasn't really necessary, but surely it was inconvenient? Even he had a name, and he... wasn't normal. He looked over his shoulder at the Technician. "Everyone needs a name. I'll come back with the other Seekers. And a name for you."

He wondered if he actually cared about her, or if he was projecting his own feelings about namelessness onto her. He had already told her he'd give her a name, and he intended to, whether she really wanted it was another matter.

Some minutes later

Some flicker of movement drew the Seeker's eyes upwards. A wounded wyvern, a spearman engaging another warrior atop a skyscraper, and...

What?

A third man, semi encased in an amorphous blob of steel, plummeting towards the ground.

"Well. You weren't hard to find."

Fang took off in the direction of the plummeting man, he needed to see if the man would live through the fall. And if not, there would data for the taking.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Mr. Fountain on Mon Oct 19, 2015 10:39 pm

Ingvar Jarisleifsson

"What? What is this?!" the northman bellowed and looked on in horror as his body was encased in liquid metal.  

He looked around wildly for the source of this metallurgic magic. Seeing the armored man - the one that had called actually called the Kjarnöri into battle - below him on the top of the closest skyscraper, Ingvar pointed his free sword at him and kept his other hand gripped to the one in the wyvern's back. 

"You there!" the iron-wrapped man shouted. "What is the meaning of th- Hhhrk!" Suddenly, the liquid metal that had just been softly hugging his torso turned completely solid - the immediate effect was that Ingvar now found it impossible to breath. 

Ingvar's whole mutated and thorned body was petrified in the awkward position it had just been in: one arm bent down forwards to grip onto the dragon-stuck sword and the other pointed across Ingvar's chest towards Carlyle.

"Leave Guivre's child alone!"

Now came the abrupt, invisible force trying to rip Ingvar from his beloved battle. The sword-swinger held onto his weapon as tightly as he could but to no avail. He was unceremoniously ripped away from the scaled beast and sent flying in some odd direction.

"Nnnnnrrrrrgggghhhhhhh!!!" Ingvar clamored as he soared through the sky with his one remaining sword - the other being left deep into the wyvern's hide. 

The ironclad-meteor that was Ingvar Jarisleifsson was slung into the side of another skyscraper with all the momentum that Carlyle had put in the throw. This caused the hard metal to begin to fracture which then broke apart completely when Ingvar finally fell several dozen yards onto the ancient street below.

Several moments later...

The northerner walked on - still brushing off bits of broken metal and small shards of glass from his now shirtless and horrifically mutated torso. He flexed the large spikes and barbs on his back - something he discovered that he could do just a moment ago but was unlikely to be of any major use - and a large amount of debris that had been stuck there fell onto the asphalt and cement. 

He was walking back towards the skyscraper that he had last seen his betrayer on. His eyes were full of hate and malicious intent. 

Upon seeing a lone stranger approaching from farther down the street, Ingvar pointed his sword - which had thankfully been undamaged in the fall - towards the man. He continued to approach but slowed his pace.

"You..." he snarled lowly. "There exist many evils in this world, stranger. The greatest among these being the unholy act of ripping a warrior away from his battle. So, I ask you, are you a peace-lover of Lürnfeif or a war-maker of Kjarnör? Are you a friend of that knight on the tower?" He then pointed the jagged claw that was his free hand up towards the referenced building.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Fi Skirata on Mon Oct 19, 2015 11:02 pm

"Fang"

Fang stood with his feet wide and both of his hands resting comfortably on the pommel of his blade. When he saw the barbarian half naked and covered in spines, he believed he would have a feral on his hands. This did not seem to be the case.

The northerner before him was, while furious, quite sane. While this aligned with Fang's current goal of gathering fellow Seekers, in a way, he was disappointed that the man had not simply died from the fall, thus offering precious free data. Or at least being insane so that Fang could cut the data out him.

Fang wondered in the man realized the situation he was in. The street they were on was a dead end, and Fang was between the barbaric man-beast and the only exit. The man would come with him, or someone would die, that had been the plan. With as angry as the barbarian seemed, it may have not been the best.

Fang stood his ground unflinchingly as the spined warrior spoke "I ask you, are you a peace-lover of Lürnfeif or a war-maker of Kjarnör? Are you a friend of that knight on the tower?" Fang followed the warriors claw and shook his head in denial.

"I am a Seeker. I don't love peace, I don't make war. I hunt strong enemies, searching for greater power." Fang delivered his speech with the drive of someone who had known their purpose much longer than he ever had. "I was sent to find others, and bring them back. Others to Seek, to search for worthy opponents. Are the one I was sent to find?"

Fang clutched the hilt of his blade tightly, waiting for an answer, or an attack.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Mr. Fountain on Tue Oct 20, 2015 1:14 am

Ingvar Jarisleifsson

"I was sent to find others, and bring them back. Others to Seek, to search for worthy opponents. Are the one I was sent to find?"

The raven-feeder breathed heavily and silently for a few moments after the stranger's speech - staring at the lone man and obviously deep in thought. Worthy opponents. Glorious battle. The gaining of greater power. These were things that Ingvar wanted, yes.

Ingvar exhaled sharply out of his nose before speaking finally, "Your words... are good. Your goals are noble. I would join you on your search for battle. But first..."

The northerner turned to face the wall of the skyscraper on top of which Carlyle and Salvek stood. Placing his sword back into its holster around his waist, the mutant walked up to the building's side. He pulled his right arm back before swiftly bringing it into the building's side - digging the fangs of his hand into the brick. He pulled himself up slightly and did this again with his left claw. And again, and again.

Once the tower-climber was a couple dozen feet up, he turned his head back downward to look at the stranger that remained on the ground. "If a worthy opponent is what you seek, then look no further to the top of this tower," he called down before turning back and returning to his climb. "The traitor-knight stands tall on this peak!"

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Fi Skirata on Tue Oct 20, 2015 1:45 am

"Fang"

Fang grinned a bit when the warrior agreed to join him. ... Then the berserker began scaling the skyscraper with his claws. Fang could only look on incredulously. What the hell did he think he was doing?

"If a worthy opponent is what you seek, then look no further to the top of this tower, The traitor-knight stands tall on this peak!"

Fang hesitated for a long moment. He had eyed more than one individual on top of the skyscraper. Was there a fight? He couldn't just stand around and wait, but there was no way he was going to climb the side of the building like a maniac.

The swordsman smashed through a window and bolted through corridors and up stairs, desperately trying to make it to the top of the building before all of his potential conscripts wound up dead.

"Wait." He stopped and thought out loud "if there's a fight, some of these men will die. ... They could come back at the terminal with the Technician, but there's no telling how hostile they will be in that case..."

Fang moved at a quicker pace. He needed to get to the top of the building and fast.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Snœflæk on Wed Oct 21, 2015 8:35 pm

After a moment of silent confrontation of the two wills on that skyscraper, Carlyle lowered his spear and burst out into laughter.
"At ease, tough guy. If you were gonna kill me, we'd already be in battle."
Carlyle sheathed his spear and walked over to the edge of the skyscraper to the right of the hammer man. Looking down, he noticed the Norse man... no, don't call him that, THE Norseman is dead.... Carlyle's hand drifted to his back, to Zweihander...
Snapping himself back to reality, Carlyle fully took in the situation. The Beast, yes the beast, was coming for him, bloodlust no doubt clouded its mind. He was trapped on this building, it was only a matter of time until the Beast made it to him...
"Why does this always happen? Do the technicians purposely pit us against each other?" Carlyle began to talk to himself, "no matter, I have no business with them now."
Looking up, Carlyle finally acknowledged the hammer man's questions.
"I couldn't allow you two to hurt that child so... put it in such agony..."
Carlyle glanced at the beast. 5 more meters already
"But explanations may have to wait... the Beast has found its way back..."
Carlyle motioned to the edge of the building. He peered down over, allowing himself to be seen by the beast.
"I DON'T WISH TO FIGHT YOU!"
He yelled down to the beast, knowing full well it would not care.
Turning back to hammer man, Carlyle unsheathed his spear.
"Now is the time to either fight this beast, or stall him till he calms the FUCK down!"
Carlyle stood there, patiently.
"What do you intend to do?"
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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Nexeria on Fri Oct 23, 2015 8:37 pm

Salvek "Forge" Correntius

"What do you intend to do?"

"Your quarrel with the barbarian is not my problem, Lightbringer! All I want is answers!" I shout back at the man.

I cautiously step over to the ledge. Peering over the side, I can see the barbarian - now as some sort monstrous beast-man - climbing the tower with remarkable speed and agility. I begin to calm myself as I weigh my options. If the Lightbringer perishes in his duel against the barbarian, I may still be able to get my answers from the Priestess... but she may not be willing to help me for attacking the wyvern. Dammit, perhaps this man is my only reasonable source of information at the moment.

I let out a groan of annoyance and say, "Against my wishes, Lightbringer, I will attempt to help you vanquish or calm the beast-man."

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Mr. Fountain on Tue Nov 03, 2015 11:57 pm

Ingvar Jarisleifsson

"I don't wish to fight you!" the barbarian could just barely hear someone - his enemy - shout down at him from atop the skyscraper. 

Ingvar shook his head angrily as he neared the top of the building. Was his foe a coward as well as a traitor? Who throws someone off of a flying dragon that isn't looking to fight that person? What kind of scum is this person? 

The northerner was breathing heavily when he finally pulled himself up and over the edge of the tower. He stood there - a prickly mutant of a man - and stared his enemy down before pulling out his sword and pointing it towards the knight. 

"Disgusting. Revolting. Unworthy of life," the blood-seeker began to speak as he slowly took steps towards Carlyle - his left hand reaching down to his left axe. "Kjarnör must allow your existence only so that I may end it. What traitorous filth!" 

On the word filth, Ingvar quickly grabbed the steel, red axe and hurled it towards the spearman with exceptional strength and precision before rushing the man with his sword afterwards.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Fi Skirata on Wed Nov 04, 2015 1:33 am

"Fang"

To his surprise, Fang could hear the Northerner shouting somewhere above him, the man had scaled the side of the building faster than Fang could climb it from the inside. But not by much. The construct slammed through a door, finally coming out onto the roof, he was panting and short of breath but he had made it.

And not with a moment to spare. The spiked warrior was attack some knightly warrior. Fang sprung into action as the barbarian hurled his axe, he was too late to stop its trajectory, but he nonetheless threw himself between the furious warrior and the reluctant knight, drawing his sword.

Fang buckled when the Northerner's blade clashed with his own, this man was incredibly strong. Fang's knees and arms quivered in effort to hold his foe's blade back, but was simply kicked aside onto the hard pavement as the Northerner continued towards his target. Fang apparantly was only in the way, and didn't even warrant stopping to fight.

The artificial human only then noticed the other person present, a middle aged coloured warrior. He seemed much more reasonable. "Are you just going to let this happen?" The interloper shouted at this man as he stood to his feet "These two are going to rip each other apart, don't you think you should stop them?!"

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Nexeria on Wed Nov 04, 2015 4:40 am

Salvek "Forge" Correntius

"Are you just going to let this happen?"

The construct speaks, but what I hear in that moment is not words. No, what I hear is far worse. What I hear is the past roaring back at me in one howling wave of pure madness - I hear the sounds my own screaming - accompanied by a vision of my own bleeding, battered, and mutilated body. My right eye begins to twitch and my vision fades into bloody red haze. Everything around me turns red. Everything expect for the construct.

"These two are going to rip each other apart, don't you think you should stop them?!"

The construct speaks again. His message must have gotten lost somewhere between my mind and ears for I do not hear it. My gaze is fixated on the construct's face. For a moment it appeared human, but the longer I stared the more twisted its features became. The construct's teeth sharpened like razors, his tongue split into four separate serpent tongues, and his pupils slanted inwards like reptiles as a web of black and white encompassed it's irises. The same evil eyes that plague my nightmares. My mind tells me that the construct standing before me is him, that he truly has returned.

I have no idea what the construct truly said in the seconds that followed, for all I heard was a sinister laugh followed by his voice, simply saying, "Hello, Forge."

"No!"

I send the construct flying back with one rib-shattering swing from my war hammer. He's taken off guard as he clutches his one arm against his chest. Do constructs breathe? I try to remember. Not important right now, just cave his fucking skull in.

"Foul construct! I will not allow you to kill me again!"

As the construct attempts to regain his balance, I charge full-force straight at him, firing an arcane blast out of my left hand, as I prepare to swing my hammer across his cheekbone.

Forge's Nightmare Eyes:


Last edited by Nexeria on Wed Jan 20, 2016 9:15 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Snœflæk on Fri Nov 06, 2015 8:18 pm

By instinct Carlyle draws out his hidden supply of quicksilver. In a single motion he throws the liquid metal at the axe, creating a sold wall between him and it. As a precaution Carlyle steps to the side as well, although ultimately it was unneeded. The axe was stopped by the metal, both laying on the ground.
Carlyle, weighing his options, notices the other man, whom he had thought reasonable. Now it seems he has lost his senses as well.
"Barbarian, this is all a misunderstanding. Trust me, I have seen innumerable deaths due solely that all involved would not admit they were wrong or had acted hastily."
sigh
"Construct, see if you can snap the hammer-wielding fellow without killing him... if possible."
Well, I doubt that will change anything.
SIGH
"Why must everyone I meet either want to kill me or each other?!"
This he mumbled to himself.
Drawing his spear, Carlyle prepares himself for combat.
"Most honorable devote of Kjarnör, I request parley."
Last hope... if he doesn't take the offer...
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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Fi Skirata on Fri Nov 06, 2015 8:34 pm

"Fang"

Sent flying backwards by the hammer strike, Fang slammed against the ground, hard. He clutched at his ribs, he couldn't quite tell the extent of the damage the hammer had done. Bruise, fractured, broked... either way it now hurt just to breathe, and moving was an endeavor. How cumbersome.

The hammer wielding warrior seemed to have some personal grudge, though Fang could not fathom why.

"Construct, see if you can snap the hammer-wielding fellow without killing him... if possible." The Zweihander burdened priest spoke.

Fang nodded. At least someone was halfway reasonable. He stumbled to his feet just in time to see the hammer cutting through the air towards his face. Fang ducked under the swing just barely, bring his body back up, aiming a fearsome uppercut towards the smith's jaw.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Mr. Fountain on Fri Nov 06, 2015 10:51 pm

Ingvar Jarisleifsson

"Nngraaagh!" the northerner snarled as he completely ignored the traitor-knight's words and continued on in his mad charge. 

The gore-maker wasn't without his senses however. He understood how to fight against most foes - spearmen included. Spears were weapons that required a bit of range and distance to be wielded effectively, so if Ingvar could get in close against Carlyle with his sword then that would be in his favor. 

The swordsman raised his weapon with both hands and held it over his head as he quickly approached Carlyle. He brought it down against the man's spear as his opponent blocked. However, Ingvar's strength was more than remarkable and he began to push the spearman back towards one edge of the tower as their weapons remained clashing. 

"Someone such as you isn't worthy of speaking the Skullking's name," the mutant growled as he continued to force Carlyle to back up. "By the wound that never heals, I swear I'll have your tongue!" 

On that, Ingvar turned his weapon over Carlyle's spear so that the two were no longer clashing then thrusted his blade forward towards the holy man's face.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Snœflæk on Fri Nov 06, 2015 11:31 pm

"Not worthy?"
Armor plates move from their place on Carlyle's back to block the sword.
"Do you believe yourself the authority to determine my worth?"
Carlyle draws up the quicksilver from the floor, now a liquid again, and sends thin needles of silver at his enemy's back, Kicking him away at the same time.
"Have you spoken with Kjarnör before? Has he told you I'm not worthy? huh? Heh, I thought not."
Carlyle twirls his spear around.
"Well, I have spoken with Kjarnör, in person. He's actually quite funny, really. Quite the comedian, that one... though rather dark for my tastes."
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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Megantron on Tue Dec 15, 2015 4:49 pm

Kay

Kay watched as the man known as Fang ventured off towards another falling man. Mother appeared to Kay in this moment with open arms. An ethereal figure of light and beauty encompassed Kay as words washed over her. "This world is no longer yours. I have no use for you--for anyone--here. Please join your brothers and sisters."

Kay had no objections. She had always held on to Mother's word, even in these final moments. There was no doubt in her mind that Mother would ever steer her wrong.

She brandished her weapon and held it in shaky hands to her temple. Looking to the sky, she whispered a small prayer before pulling the trigger. Perhaps someone else will have use for her data here.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Nexeria on Wed Jan 20, 2016 11:07 pm

Salvek "Forge" Correntius

An intense pain resonates through my jaw as I fall back upon the unforgiving stone floor. The construct slithers over to me as its lying tongue brokers for a truce. I stagger to my feet as the creature continues to ramble on. I glare at the construct as blood pours from a gash at the roof of mouth.

No point in talking even if I wanted to.

I fall down to my knees clutching my left hand against my head as an attempt to weather the agonizing migraine. The construct cautiously takes a few steps towards me. As he tries to rest his hand upon my shoulder, I go for my spare grappling hook, impaling into his right Achilles's tendon, before rapping the rope around his leg.

Bolting to my feet once more, I grapple onto the rope and begin dragging him over to the edge of rooftop as he struggles to cut the rope. Before he even slice through a single thread, I circle around him and attempt to kick him off. Just as the construct is nearing the edge, he thrusts a dagger into my chest.

"Damn, bastard! I will see you dead!"

I take him over the edge as I tighten the rope around my right arm. Before we can even hit the ground, the rope gets caught on a flagpole jutting out of the side of building. Our bodies clash into each other like a pendulum. I try to take a desperate swing at him before realizing that I'm offsetting the weight in our makeshift pulley system.

The construct clings onto the flagpole saving both our lives. I can't allow that, I can't allow him to cut the rope before I kill him. I can feel the Ayrshire's power burning within me. My eyes catch sight of the tower's cracked support columns. I quickly fire a beam of arcane energy out of my left hand completely blowing apart the columns. The tower quakes like an old man taking his final breath. The construct will not survive this... nor will I.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Mr. Fountain on Wed Jan 20, 2016 11:55 pm

Ingvar Jarisleifsson


"Well, I have spoken with Kjarnör, in person. He's actually quite funny, really. Quite the comedian, that one... though rather dark for my tastes."


Ingvar straightened up after regaining his balance and lowered his head just enough so that a dark shadow was cast over his eyes - the leathery spikes on his back bristled and the silver needles embedded there clanged lightly on the roofing behind him. To say that the mutant was angry would be an understatement. This man in front of him had used his god for a joke. No... Ingvar wasn't angry. Ingvar was experiencing a rage so intense that it was causing him physical pain. His breath felt as hot as steam. His vision began to blur. He gripped the hilt of his blade so heavily that it began to twist and contort. He could feel his teeth cracking under the pressure of his jaws. 

And just as the man forwent all sense and reason, just as he started a mad, blind dash towards his enemy, the roof began to give way under the holy-knight. Surely before Carlyle could realize what was happening, the duo were already rushing towards the ground at an incredible speed with one being impaled by the other's sword through the shoulder and the other run straight through with the other's spear. 

"Kjarnör-khóndur muen damat brandari aan Helvat!" the mutant screeched in his native tongue just before the pair could slam into the ground.

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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Snœflæk on Sun Jan 24, 2016 8:21 pm

Falling.

Carlyle was now falling. How? Only the Gods know. Regardless of how it started, there was no possible way out.

Not with this berserker plunging his blade straight through Carlyle's shoulder. No, there was nothing for it. They were all going to die.

"Kjarnör-khóndur muen damat brandari aan Helvat!" Cried the bezerker, as the pair quickly approached the earth.

Carlyle looked into the man's fury-blinded eyes, and talking not to him but to the heavens beyond, spoke.
"Garoshi Elezh enti fira Solun."

And then they were in the midst of the technician.

Wait... that's wrong...

Looking around Carlyle only saw the Technician... Where were the others? No matter whether Carlyle died early or the others are just a little late, they are all dead. So perhaps it would be wise to slip out while he has this window of opportunity.

To recover the genes and perhaps patch up his relations with the others when he gets back here.

Without another thought, Carlyle bolted for the collapsed building. Staring into the distance as he ran.
Sister... perhaps it would be best that I remain with them. Maybe I can save their souls, or at least make them more civilized.

As he approached the ruins he breathed a couple prayers of protection and purification, then began his work searching for his corpse as well as the corpses of his new compatriots. Retrieving his own genes was the easy part, not much thought to that. Just absorb them, then done. Those of the others however... Well put simply it wasn't so easy.

Ingvar. Carlyle.

While the site that greeted him was quite gruesome, Carlyle did not see it. All he saw were the genes, the bodies meant nothing. Upon collecting his own genes, he turned his attention to Ingvar's. Now for the difficult part. Engulfing the corpses in flames, Carlyle focused on pinpointing the genes. Eventually, after having dwindled his sphere of fire to the size of a melon, Carlyle had finally caught the genes. In a swift motion, he collapsed the flames, now no more than a slight wisp that flickered in and out of existence. Carefully concentrating on keeping the flames not only in existence, but also at a safe state. One wrong move and he might accidentally incinerate his catch.

Continuing on, he found the other corpses, repeating the process he used for Ingvar. After having collected them all, he turned on his heels. Now headed back towards the Technician, although his mind was elsewhere. Keeping his flames in line long enough to bring them close. Carlyle physically ripped off a plate of armor, and proceeded to "wrap" them in the silver. Once done, he was finally able to release his concentration, immediately extinguishing his flames. Keeping a close hold on the bundle of silver, looking somewhat similar to a peapod, Carlyle set off to return to the others. Hopefully they do not misunderstand his intentions....
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Re: City of Perfection

Post by Fi Skirata on Sun Jan 24, 2016 10:25 pm

"Fang"

The collision with the ground was a brutal one, shattering many of his bones. One of his eyeballs had ruptured on contact with the ground and blood poured from the now empty hole in his face. As he drew in a breath, Fang could feel his lungs struggling to move around the foreign invader that was his own ribcage. Having landed on his side, his arm was a horribly mangled and disgfigured monstrosity. He opted to look on it no further.

Forcing himself with inhuman willpower to his feet, Fang looked down at his assailant, who was still clinging to the last fleeting seconds of life. "Fuc--" Fang couldn't speak any further. His voice was a horrid death rattle, and he knew there was no point in words. He lifted his blade in his one good hand and brought it down against his dying opponents face. He wanted the man to know he killed him. This was no mere tie.

Fang limped with an awkward gait away from the corpse for several meters before his legs gave beneath him and he was brought crashing to the concrete beneath him, his sword clattering to the ground at his side. He took a slow, pained breath as best he could.

The first time you die... Is an unforgettable tragedy. It will cling to your mind indefinitely. This was not the first time a part of Fang died. But a Gestalt is greater than the sum of its parts. Fang would never let this memory go.

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Re: City of Perfection

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