Don't Fear the Reaper! (( Dimensional Rapture RP ))

Would you be interested in joining?

Yes	22.7%	[ 27 ]
No	15.1%	[ 18 ]
I guess so	10.9%	[ 13 ]
LET ME REAP THY SOUL!	51.3%	[ 61 ]
Total Votes:			[ 119 ]

[PainLord Mercer]

☠☠☠ ~ Don't Fear the Reaper! ~ ☠☠☠

☠☠☠ WE ARE NOW OPEN! ☠☠☠

[Nerokizur]

Sometimes Things Just Start The Way They Do And There's No Way To Bend Fate

"You don't seriously think, after all this time we were just going to hand the damn thing to you my illustrious nemesis?" Arian cackled with his usual effeminate and erudite tone, dangling what appeared to be an old tarnished stylized pocket watch. ""Nayla and I have worked so hard to put you down every false road imaginable in this dimension. You are a long way from home Wanderer. Even our former family of the Corps don't tread in Castleworld without an elite on hand. And last time I checked, the CEO was still pissed at you, demoted."
"Brother, you are taking too long. Mother is waiting." Nayla added, "and she really is hungry."

"You are right sister, where are my manners. Do you hear them Wanderer? Their screams. The screams that have been echoing in this maddening continent spanning cathedral? Mother is awake and she is feeding. After all of this time she has souls. Souls we would have brought to D.E.A.T.H. but they had to betray us. Now, listen to the music of their torment."
Silent for some time the hooded figure with his stylized skull mask listened to their rambling. For a while the faintest of memories crept in. Memories of other sinister masterminds and a long forgotten age. However Arian and Nayla were just young rogue reapers, not the immensely clever and powerful beings they so, by pure coincidences only, resembled. But Mother. Mother was something far far more dangerous. And though driven mad and monstrous as barely a visage of her former self, she had survived too. Once this was done he could be free. But first the dispatching of these would-be disciples of a dead cult now ash. It was a way of closure, but also a secret assignment from Cheshire, a favor owed.
He smiled, the rotten perpetually decaying flesh of his strange inhuman face behind with a knowing grin, and with a quick motion the magically-infused high tech firearms in his gauntlets reconfigured materializing with a surprise gasp from both. They knew those weapons. Somehow they knew their origin, their original purpose, and the ancient history they held. No longer resembling their former selves, nonetheless something about Mother in them, a part of her twisted memory gave instinctive fear. Victor and Rosalyn flickered with their enchanted runes along the magi-plaz shielding and cursed metal. Drawing them up The Wanderer fired.
Arian and Vayla both dodged sideways away from each other as the massive magically augmented streams of firepower coursed between them, down the long corridor and into the belly of the monstrous thing crawling overhead in their direction. Hordes of screaming warriors, mortals trapped in Castleworld, as this realm was nicknamed, their wardrobe mixes of ancient and high tech but broken armor illuminated.

When the abomination of flesh, magical shadow, long forgotten dark essence of what he knew to be the final vestiges of a now irrelevant God of Gods roared, its spidery legs scratching along the stone walls and decaying archway it fell upon the unlucky ones. Immediately its essence began to drink in their souls, repairing itself.

Its screams and fowl shrieks were garbled and unintelligible. Centuries ago it had forgotten the common tongue and most of what it once was. But he knew. He knew the b***h, deep down inside that mound, was there. A sliver of her former self. Hardly aware that the cult had even sprung up around it. For so long she had been here feeding off of the living and the dead. A shadow of what she could have been. They called her Mother, worshiping the arcane arachnid with little to no knowledge of its past. He knew here by another name. One of many he stopped trying to forget, and merely just left as notches in his extraordinary long life, unlife, whatever one would call it.

It shot out a venomous spew of corrosive fluids saturated with dark magical energies which dissolved through stone columns between them. Taking the opportunity of the Wanderer's distraction Arian formed his ether-scythe and slashed upwards erupting a wave of destructive force that tore through both guns before ending in a nearby partial wall causing it to crumble.

The hooded gunslinger flipped backwards several times, extremely agile and acrobatic, even moreso than they had expected and now surprisingly crawling on all fours bounded up another column twirling about and landing now behind both Arian and his sister. He gestured as the fragmented guns flashed in pools of various colors and burst into streams of runes and magical energies re-configuring his hands. They were fully restored!

He spread them outward to his sides as etheric curved blades slid slowly from their handles shimmering like crescents of magical will.

A glimmer of wing-like energy flowed from his back as green-within-green fiery eyes flashed in the sockets of the skull-like armored mask.

"I am going to ask one last time you spoiled little brats. Give me the relic."

"Mother!" Nayla screamed, "Protect us!"

The segmented massive clawed legs came overhead as the wounded mystical colossus slid forward, and just as Arian and his sister smiled in triumph their gazes turned to dread as they realized the points were aimed at...

Life drained from both husks as the shrieking shapes flailed about, kicking and dangling in the air like helpless puppets. The pocket watch fell from Arian's grasp as the ancient beast absorbed his soul force to heal itself. In a rolling dash, sheathing both weapons The Wanderer caught it and with a turn slid it into his pouch.

The monstrous nightmare spider of bone, flesh, and dark animated shadow lifted itself up, the men who survived crawling away barely.
{soundtrack:}

Spell of Forgotten Sacrifice

"Darkness beyond twilight," The hooded figure began to whisper, the voice though carried through the massive titan cathedral chamber resonating the air as the beast closed in.
"Crimson beyond blood that flows." Arcs of violet energy erupted in his gloved hands as the faint ghostly wings spread wider drawing in all the ambient energy in the room. Even the shadows they cast.
"Buried in the stream of time is where your power grows." His eyes were emerald green stars now, steam trailing off of his robe as it fluttered in a mystical wind churning about him.
"I pledge myself to conquer, all the foes who stand..." The creature called Mother actually paused for a moment, something deep in its twisted mind hearing these sounds and having some tiny pearl of awareness pain was coming. But it knew not what.
"Before the mighty gift bestowed in my unworthy hand." Actually backing away now the men had hope restored and began to force themselves to their feet to fight on. Refueled by seeing the ancient monster actually retreat slightly.
"Let the fools who stand before me be destroyed...." His voice was now a thunderous thing filling the room and making the stones shake.
"By the power you and I possess." Now both hands were orbs of violet energy that pulsed wave upon wave around him, the magically charged air so tangible it made the dust crackle and dance about.
The creature, called Mother, suddenly shrieked in its many mouths one name. A sliver of memory crept up, and what remained of the last of the Dreamweavers, the half-Demilord descendant of a long forgotten time and world forced itself through that horrible maw of bone, chiton, and shadow. "ABYSSIN!"
"DAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
A column of bright light emerged between his hands as they drew together, and in a flash of pure destructive magic Mother was forced backwards down the long titanic hall and into the depths behind. As the power flowed through her massive body the souls she had consumed for aeons flowed out, as she was vaporized in the unrelenting power of the spell born from the same ancient dark power that had made her so long ago.
When the light show was over two glowing bodies stood by the side of the ashes of the beast, disembodied and trembling. Weakened, having not performed that destructive spell for centuries, he reached out and grasped both the souls of Arian and Nayla strangling them.
"Now, before I take you little bastards home. There is something I must know. WHERE IS THE ROTTING TOME?"
"Dunwee stole it from us, Abe. I swear!"Arian said, the torment on his soul spreading as fire from "Abe" Grim's unique reaper powers, an addition to his already massive arsenal of abilities acquired when he survived the Rapture, in a manner of speaking.
"And where is Dunwee now?"
"Where else Wanderer?" Nayla said in her ghostly voice, "Avarice Abounds."
"What do you mean?" He roared.
"Silly sorcerer turned Reaper. Where would you go if you had the Rotting Tome, and what it can do?"
"Avarice cannot be accessed by mortals. None of the surviving Embers of Hell can. Only Death Corps and Abstracts can even get there."
"Rules are meant to be broken. Hahahhha!" Arian laughed in Abe's face before fading into a spark trailing along with the others out of his grasp. Welling up overhead the surviving men gazed at the spectacle of souls swimming about.
"You,...you saved us." One of them said quivering in fear of the hooded figure, but grateful.
"I saved myself. You just happened to be in the room." He said rather caustically before slashing in the air forming a portal. Like the pull of a vaccuum the trails of souls all flowed into the hole, with the hooded figure slowly passing through it. "Others will come to save you. It is the way of things."
And with that cold passive comment the mysterious hooded man vanished from their sight.

[Nerokizur]

Quinton's Story: Or The Adventures of an Undead Accountant in a Dying Universe

{{soundtrack: Open Mic Night At the Spam N Clams}}

"Boom. Click." He whispered over the mic as the smoke-filled bar and its dimly lit murky air filled his reanimated lungs, partially obscuring the faces of those that paid attention, and making those that did not stand out like a sore thumb. Glasses rattled, voices murmured, and a few laughed and heckled from the crowd. He pretended to ignore them. Damn them.
"A man slides through, wait, is that now where you put your hat Detective?
Why mam it is, its...defective
She breathes and he shoots.
Boom. Click.
Their boots. Their boots are knocking but...
Still that hat is defective.
It is Time. He says. You wear it on your head.
Or on your hand she retorts. He shoots again.
Defective."

There was some minor clapping and mostly dead silence. Irony, considering this is a realm of the living dead. But if you are reading this, you are alive. And already I hate you.

My name is Quinton Bradley, not to be confused with the True-Dead Wilton Walters Bradley the IV, former CEO and chairman of Star Forge Holdings. You know the slogan, its all over D.E.A.T.H. - Building Deader Worlds. They are the major conglomerate that owns, amongst other things, the company Necro-Tek. They make the best cybernetics and AI based prosthetics for those of us still walking in this Entirety who need them. But I don't work for either of those companies. Star Forge pays Necro-Tek, part of some corporate merger ages ago I hear. Necro-Tek pays the accounting firm of Reaver, Raver, & Schultzelheinerveldtburg. They pay me to crunch numbers when I'm not taking pictures and getting scrap pay to take care of rent, my bills, and my skeleton dog. Funny considering I can turn into a giant anthropomorphic wolf. Talk about the fleas. And I hate fleas. Almost as much as I hate being a corporate slave to Reaver, Raver, & Schultzelheinerveldtburg, who do accounting for Necro-Tek, who build cybernetics for the military and for Star Forge Holdings, who pretty much make whatever they want and you think you need - thanks to advertising, from Stars.
God I hate that logo. The boney hand clasping a ball with splotches of blue, green and yellow while a skull-print sun smiles on in ecstatic bliss. The same kind of blue, green, and yellow I want to throw up when I see the crowd at the Spam n' Clams night club. When I want to hurl ********...

The crowd turns an odd direction and starts giggling more. Giggling at me. I was thinking out loud again.

[BlitzRei]

Valia Ao Torpette

Had the marble rolled even farther she was sure she would have lost it. Valia watched as people walked around asif they had not died. They were all dead and yet not and she could barely wrap her mind around it all even after being around for so long. Her rebirth into unlife had not been as long ago as some others but she was not a newborn. Still her minds wanders to the marble and yet she does not understand completely why it had been so important. Closing her eyes she can see pitch black and at the center of the darkness a chipped marble of azure and crimson light. Her hand, although not visible to her, reaching out to grasp it. A force she did not understand beginning to pull on her had nearly prevented her from being able to reach it but she was able just before the darkness consumed her.

Opening her eyes she straightened her leather jacket and stood. This park within Alpha Citadel was much like the one she knew back on her world. The large crystal that floated at its center a deep red and glowed like the heart of the the void. Her world had been a warring one and so when the void took it many of her people had most likely ended up here in D.E.A.T.H. It surprised her how easy it was for those here to replicate the worlds of those that inhabited it.

"At least I have most of my mind back," she said realizing that some of her thought were simply unstable banter. Lifting the shield she had set on the ground before her she stared into the skull that decorated it. What a coincidence she had named her weapon Mental Break. Smiling at the thing she slipped it back onto her arm where rib-like protrusions on the back gripped her.

[Nerokizur]

All This Fuss

The clanging of the metallic padded boots and their spurs against the blackened charred stone was faint at first. Continuing about with their business a few Undead half-breed demons were cheering on as two larger creatures of that bent arm wrestled over a fused molten pillar of bone, crystal, and dark stones. The walls to this rotted out ruin were just sections and frame with a bit of plaster and centuries of aesthetic attempts to repair damage done by the death of Time and war, and in that way it seemed a fitting place to setup a casino in a fowl pocket dimension known as Avarice Abounds.
"Come on Aryx'Korr kick his a**!" A screeching pointy-eared green skinned goblin with half-rotted face shouted.
"No way your boy can win! Haepsotl don't let this undead half-breed wanker break your winning streak."
Aryx'Korr had draconic features and though stronger appearing, was far too intoxicated to focus. The bravado of his peers kept him going, but without his full strength the minotar looking orange and violet striped thing wrapped arm to arm with him was going to win. Again.
Haepsotl leaned his head forward, his jagged twin horns actually cutting into the shoulders of the larger reptilian opponent, to goad him. No one said you couldn't use your head to win this game. He just took it quite literally.
Their rancor rose higher and higher as demonic dead-spawn argued back and forth and cheered their champions. Whoever won this battle would get rights to run the infernal casino around them.
It was terrifying and pathetic a scene at the same time. In ancient times beasts like these would have been warriors of Hell. Now they were just brutes for hire scavenging for some hint of their ancestor's glory.
Avarice Abounds was the largest of the three Embers of Hell planes to remain after the Rapture.
Its twin satellite dimensions Rage Wastes and Passion Seas were dwarf by comparison, but actually held far more deadly and nightmarish fiends and dangers. Avarice Abounds was a vacation spot for the forgotten. Though not a safe place.
The clanging grew louder and louder as a silhouette of a robed figure spread across the cobble stones of the make-shift parlor, pushing apart the old tattered doors on their spring hinges like something out of a faint schizophrenic's dying memory of an old western film.
A green skinned pirate looking demon spawn with a gold encrusted human-leather eye-patch sneered and hobbled on his peg leg-hewn from the trunk of some young Soul-Eater Sapling from Passion Seas few land masses to greet the visitor.
"Arrr. Welcome to..."
shwwwww...CRACK!
His head was grasped with lightning speed as the stranger clamped down in an instant and twisted the demonic skull backwards. The perpetually rotting flesh tore gushing black ichor as the figure casually stepped through the foyer and pointed at the minotaur. The host fell with a loud thud on the loose plates of obsidian flakes.
Everyone gave pause as the room grew quiet, save for the occasional rattle of a cracked mug.
"Leave. Except for you." The voice had a southern draw to it, but the slight hint of something electronic in the undertones. Like it was amplified a bit. Raspy but audible. They could not see his mouth because it was covered with a stylized breathing mask, but his eyes conveyed a flare of malice.
They burst out laughing in waves pointing at the human looking fellow and cackling.
"Hahahaha....yeah. Sure.....um, let me just get my things and I'll..." A long haired wisp of a half-ling taunted, his slurred speech muffled further by stifled laughter.
In a blaze of light a glowing curved blade spun across the room, removing the head of the ghoul as it sailed itself now into the wall behind. A spew of burning demonic blood shot upwards as the headless body slumped onto the table, smearing its fowl essence on faded playing cards with painted demonic runes on them.

Now weapons were starting to be drawn, claws were being clenched, and teeth were flashing.

Haepsotl rose up, tired of playing with the half-gargoyle and tore his muscular arm off, though it was twice as dense and as big as his. The venom in his horns had been working their way through his opponents veins, basically liquefying him from the inside out. He had been too drunk to notice.

Howling now in pain as the realization it him, more from surprise than actual sensation, Aryx'Korr, nearly ignoring the death waiting for him at the doorway lunged and struck the minotaur hard with his battle axe. He missed of course as the fingers of his clawed hand separated like clay, as his scales bubbled from underneath and his eyes turned to tar. Slurring and cursing with his dying breath Haepsotle shoved aside the mound of melting gargoyle and unsheathed his broadsword.

"You ******** up my victory dance little one." He chortled through his snout. "Now I am going to have to shove this up your a** and make you my trophy instead."

The figure cracked his head back and forth and slowly retrieved something from his backpack which began to expand mechanically and magically. As it continued to reconfigure he lifted the plated rod up, its shape finally taking on the likeness of an ornate automatic rifle just as he pulled what appeared to be a trigger.

{{Soundtrack: Show Time }}

The whisper, blunt in the beginning but as faint as a baby's sigh streamed through the air and ended in a crescendo of screams from Haepsotl's handler, sending the half-ling wheeling backwards from the impact of the odd glowing dart over the barcounter. He clawed desperately at the metallic dart in his forehead as a high pitched whine grew louder and louder..and louder...and...

WHHHHHHHHHHHHZZZZZZZZZZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Exploding in all directions the super heated bone and horns spread like shrapnel cutting through those closest. Leaping in a aerial somersault forward the stranger thrust his rifle like a spear into the next closest demon's chest and like a skilled javelin thrower used the moment to launch himself directly into the minotar. Glowing short plasma blades flickered from his oddly metallic hands and sliced through the horn's bases as he grasped them for a hand-hold.
Coming loose he quickly hurled the two horns at both sides outward impaling two of the minotaurs other friends, the corrosive venom pumping now from the sliced glands in the marrow of the horns and melting both from the inside.

The stumps, venom-free spewed blood and ichor as Haepsotl tried to swipe upward but the man with the shiny hands was too fast. He dug his fingers into the stumps as his body weight kept the arms on the blade weighted down and rode the chest of the beast as it was falling backwards into a table behind.

This all happened so quickly half the room had not understood what had just happened, but needless to say the weird hooded fellow was now standing on a prostrate minotar who was wailing as blood gushed from the sides of his demonic head.

Behind the figure the rifle, harpooned in the chest of the dead attacker, began to drill downwards securing itself into ground.

The stranger stepped back from the minotaur and retrieved something casually from the weapon embedded vertically and dangled it at Haepsotl.

He turned his head partially but did not lock eyes with anyone under his hood.
"Anyone else want to stay?"

In a flurry they all rushed out stumbling over one another in a chaos of hisses, roars, and cursing.

Before their footsteps even faded with surprising strength the stranger drove his burred heal into the grown of the wounded minotaur.

"I want to know," he continued to dangle the medallion. In it was a glass fixture around what appeared to be a metal flat key. Like one would use on a clock.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGH!" Haepsotl screamed on trying to pull himself up but the blood loss was too significant. Around them the putrid smell of corroding demon flesh tainted the air as his own venom was now liquidating the two who had been impaled along with his arm wrestling opponent.

"Look, this isn't going to go over well for you if you continue to interrupt." He said through his cybernetic breathing mask, "Now, where can I find Lady Athame."

"Curse you Legioner. You have no jurisdiction here!" He braved shouting.

Dunwee cracked his head back and forth again and peeled back his tunic with his free hand showing a heavily scarred pale chest, its flesh riddled with metallic plates, stretched over plaz hoses and growing bone-like biomechnical components in the vague shape of a rib-cage. "I am no longer a Death Corps hellspawn. Look what their loyalty did to me. What it cost me. And it gets worse. If this is my body, imagine what has happened to my mind. My very soul!" He shouted.

Yes. Give into your rage my vassal. Beautiful.
Not now Visitor. Be silent.
Remember who is in control boy! The etheric voice in his head rattled and slithered on causing him to cringe slightly. Even in his pained delirium Haepsotl saw the opportunity and kicked with his hooved leg to unbalance the gunman.

Dunwee fell hard backwards. Before he could recover a few hiding demons closed in, spearing him in the shoulders with their blades. One of them sparked, but the other spewed blood.

"Boss, are you okay?" one of them asked.

As he took his gaze away Dunwee kicked upwards shattering one's leg. The other he missed being pinned to the ground.

A third came up from somewhere off and with the butt of a heavy club jarred Dunwee's head.

Then blackness.

When he came to he was strung up from the rafters, his toes dangling just enough to scrape the stone below.

Already the Necro-Tek nanites were working their way to repair his undead flesh, an augmented form of healing, for lack of a better term. Unfortunately that meant that a little tiny fleck of his flesh would now be partially metallic.

Thumbing through his satchel and cloak they retrieved his various tools and small weapons. But of particular interest was a leather-bound bundle which took sometime to unwind. With a loud thud it fell out onto the table.

It was an odd thick hinged tome with tattered pages that seemed to be slowly wasting away, then replenished as the air current changed. Whispers and maddening faint rustling sounds filled their ears as Haepsotl's men examined it.

Bandaging him up, though he may have already lost too much demonic blood, meaning now he'd possibly go through True Death, the wounded minotaur was eased into a chair across from Dunwee and they carefully positioned him so he could lock eyes upward at the dangling man.

"Do you know how much we could make on the blackmarket here or anywhere in Entirety with the gear you got growing on your bones?" He was weak but still mean.

"Necro-Tek is a prized item so I hear. But only a few cases of its use ever are stable enough to be viable. I'm not the first, and I'm not the last. But sadly I'm attached to it a*****e. And it would be extremely painful to remove it."

"I can imagine." Haepsotl retorted.

"For you." Dunwee said through his breathing mask with the coldness of the grave.

"Boys? Can we confirm if there is a bounty for this one? He's skilled. Gotta be someone of value. AWOLS are high on the list with some of the outer rim Corps groups. Those boys far from home get bored, need extra..."

"Let me go, and I will spare your unlife." He warned. Haepsotl just chuckled.
"I'm warning you."

Haepsotl force himself upwards with strained stress on his face and got close enough for Dunwee to smell his sweat and mung. "How much boys?"

"Uh, boss, I know this old holonet radio is s**t but I'm pretty sure we've got enough juice. I am not finding anything. His Corps tags don't give a name. He's scratched them out."

"Nothing on the description?"

"Nope."

"******** who are you then? Are you such a miserable son of a b***h they don't even want you dead anym-..."

Dunwee started to cough erratically as his eyes went black. Before Haepsotl could even blink some shadowy thing, barely more than a dark gray and violet cloud streamed out of his mouthpiece, his ears, and the pours of his skin. It even flowed out of the openings and vents of his cybernetic armored skin. Immediately Haepsotl glazed over and started to back away stumbling as he was still weak. The others also started to panic and shriek. Their heads and eyes were filled with mad sounds and images. In a frenzy they clawed at themselves and each other in horror.

Coming back to awareness Dunwee bent his forearms uncomfortably and activated his blasma cutters with a thought signal to his cybernetic muscles in them. Splicing through the chains he fell down in a crouch and inhaled deeply as the purple mist slowly flowed back into him. Still in a lunatic fringe of behavior he whistled, as best he could, through his breathing mask gathering his robes, his weapons and the tome which he delicately and almost reverently wound back into its satchel before sliding it over himself and securing to his belt and his shoulder pad. He reached across the table and retrieved the turn-key medallion and let it drape over his neck. Drawing his hood up he casually walked away, the demons still shrieking in their hallucinations.

"What did you find out?" He asked aloud though he was by himself.
"Demon minds are so...dull. Needless to say the fat old whore of an undead succubus is a couple of clicks away in the mountains west of here. You know how painful it is for me to manifest and save you like that. And what we must do to replenish me." The voice in his head raddled on, almost musically taunting.
"In due time. I had a handle on it. I knew they weren't going to kill me. Though I didn't know I'd be captured and stripped bare like that, I hate seeing myself uncovered. All of this...wrongness on me."
"And how the hell did you, a being who is not nearly the intellect and pearl of awareness I am know such a thing in advance?"
"The Rotting Tome showed me." He had almost hesitated to admit it. But as this strange symbiotic force, or parasitic possibly was going to find out eventually...
There was a gasp by the disembodied voice in his thoughts so loud it almost made him jostle.
"But if I am in your head Molus, why would I not know this?" It almost sounded a tiny subtle hint of fear and betrayal.
"Because the Tome doesn't want you to know. It seems you have competition for pulling my puppet strings Visitor."
"I don't like this book boy. Don't like it at all."
"That makes two of us. But Arian warned me about it. And said it was worth having."
"Ah, little Arian. What do you think The Wanderer did with him and his very ******** sister?"
"What he would have done to me had the Tome not shown me a path here."
"Anything else it tell you boy? Nothing bad about me I hope?"
"Only that you are not what you seem to be, but other than that the pages were full of holes. They always are."
"Granted my boy, so are you. Hahahahahahaha."

The strange man continued on his trek into the thundering mountains on the horizon, across a vast wasteland filled with useless dunes of sand, gold, jewels, monstrous bones, ruins, and other such things now of little value to the denziens of this once great swamp-like plane of Hell now turned into a desert of pointless ancient Avarice never sated.

[BlitzRei]

Valia Ao Torpette
There were so many people about that she nearly felt as if she were on the battlefields again. So many faces that she knew nothing about and many without flesh making it hard to even remember them. Why anyone finding themselves reborn into unlife would decide to let the flesh rot away she would never understand. Then again she couldn't understand how someone, such as herself, who were torn to tiny undecipherable pieces by abyssal darkness could be put back together. That was the power that the Corp had and way beyond her comprehension.Someday if she was lucky and skilled enough she would find out how it is done. For now she served as if there was nothing else in her life.

On her wrist Mental Break still slumbered and would until she used it in combat. Her fights so far had not been as difficult as she first thought but she was expecting that they were simply tests to ascertain her actual strength. Nothing made her more happy than being recognized for her ability in combat. She, however, was not a great commander or even the visage of a fair fighter which didn't seem to bother those she had worked with in the past. For the unlife of her she could not remember where her home was supposed to be not that she used it a lot anyway. "Sitting on a curb somewhere she simply stared off at the building as she attempted to remember where hers was. Probably the only bad side effect of her mind having been broken, well the only one she herself had notice so far.
"s**t, it probably isn't even in Alpha," said to herself as she reached up to ruffle her hair. When her hand touched baldness she sighed. Some freaking habits die hard, she thought.

[Zieg Wolfblade]

Edward Seraio
Human Revenant

Ed sighed deeply and leaned back on the park bench, stretching out his legs and arms as he did so. He stared up at the sky within the Alpha Citadel, having picked a particularly nice pocket dimension to take a rest in. One that was of a park with winding cobblestone paths, walkway lighting every fifty or so feet, benches for sitting on, trash cans for obvious reasons, and a crisp and clean night sky. "Couldn't get a view like that back home," he stated to himself as he decided to relax for a bit longer.

No one was around for the moment and he kind of liked it that way. There were so many people in the DEATH corps that it was hard to find a moment to yourself. Unless of course you did what Edward had done and retreated to a more secluded dimension in the citadel. But he knew his work was going to call him in soon so he reluctantly pushed himself up from his comfortable seat and headed towards the exit portal.

Back into the proper DEATH headquarters, very familiar with its more city-like and futuristic appearance, Ed turned to make his way towards the Deadlocker but stopped when he noticed someone sitting alone on a curb. That was odd enough since most of the DEATH corps workers that filled this space knew what their jobs were and were bustling to get to them. This one looked lost somehow. He stayed back about a block and stuck his hands in his trench coat pockets, leaning up against a street post to look like he was waiting for something. In all honesty he was being nose-y and wanted to see what this female was doing. Pulling old detective tricks to keep his attentions from being noticed. At least not right away.

[BlitzRei]

Valia Ao Torpette

"Whatever," she sighed this time standing and dusting the nonexistent dust off her pants. She looked down at Mental Break and not for the first time wished it could speak to her like some reapers could. On second thought, she thought to herself, there was no way that it would have anything good to say. Turning she began on her way down the street deciding she could walk about till she came across some reminder of her place. She was kind of sure it was around here, maybe.

She passed someone leaning on a lightpost like it wasn't odd at all. Sure he could have been waiting for someone but most people here meet where they mean to hang out.Something about being dead made people more efficient that way. Just as some had found it strange that she had sat on the curb. People stared at her as she passed now as if they knew that at some point she had been a nutcase who wouldn't have had a second thought slicing them to bits. In fact some of them may have been said people who she actually had though that was a long shot. She was better now so she shouldn't dwell on it but it still kept popping into her head. Why? Anyway he was probably just looking for someone and she couldn't help him with that when she couldn't even find her own apartment.

[Zieg Wolfblade]

Edward Seraio
Human Revenant

"Ya look lost," he said out loud as the female made to pass by him. He had seen the strange look she had given him and knew that his cover had been at least partially blown. He made a mental note of how foolish it was to still use human tactics when it came to an entire city's worth of undead. Ed fished in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Hitting it lightly against his wrist caused the next smoke in line to pop up slightly out of the cardboard and he pulled it out with his teeth.

A flick of a zippo and a few puffs later he pushed himself off of the lamp post so he could address her properly, shoving his hands back into his coat pockets once more. "You're a Reaper, right? That shield you're carrying says as much. How does a Reaper get lost?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. He looked just like a normal human. A big difference from the skeletal and clearly undead figures that shuffled past the two of them. The only difference were his eyes. They were blood red and glowed slightly.

[BlitzRei]

Valia Ao Torpette


"My mind used to be a mess of blood and chaos," she said simply. She couldn't say out loud that she was completely lost to madness for some reason. She figured she had gotten close enough to it at least. Looking him up and down she would have to say she liked how human he still seemed. The eyes made him adorable. She laughed a bit as she realized he probably hadn't been waiting for anyone. He was investigating the odd chick sitting on the curb.

"I am a Reaper, you?," she asked unconsciously running her fingers across Mental Breaks ridges.

[Zieg Wolfblade]

Edward Seraio
Human Revenant

"Me? I'm just a Legionnare. No special weapons or powers for me," he said past the cigarette still in his mouth. He brought his hand up, pulled it out to tap the ash from the end, and let out a puff of smoke towards the street. The cancer stick found its way back to his mouth deftly so he could take another pull before continuing. "Well then it's a good thing I found ya. Most of these people here are too damn busy to stop to care if someone's in trouble. Always concerned 'bout their work."

A few of them heard him but he merely scoffed at them as they passed. "So. What'cha looking for? I'm off duty right now and a little adventure sounds like fun."

[BlitzRei]

Valia Ao Torpette

She laughed at what he said about the passerby. It was true that they wouldn't stop to help her out but then she had never really tried asking. Walking around aimlessly was how she figured out where several neat little places were and had eventually lead her to her home. She could remember those places fine it was the place she lived that evaded her. Maybe each time she tried her mind went to trying to remember the one before ending up here. If that was indeed the case there was no way she would ever remember it. I could get it tattooed somewhere, she joked to herself not knowing if the ink would even stay. Surely it would if the ink were made here.Then she realized she had been so caught up in thought she had left a long awkward silence between what he had asked and her answer.

"Sorry," she said hastily," I think I remember a blue door that slides to open and a gray leafless tree next to it reaching up like a hand." It was what always caught her attention when she finds it. The tree had been one of the reasons she had chosen it although the reason evades her now. She crossed her arms to stop her hand from going to her head again. She had no hair to run it through and the loss made her a little sad. It had been a red color she was proud of and it would have gone great with her now blue skin.

[Zieg Wolfblade]

Edward Seraio
Human Revenant

The blue skinned woman took her time. He was content to simply stand there, take drags from his cigarette, and basically be a partial road block to the throngs of pedestrians on their way to and fro. However she took so long that his smoke burned out and he flicked it onto the pavement, grinding out the ember with the toe of his shoe. The last puff of his cigarette's smoke escaped his mouth and dissipated into the air as she came back to reality to inform him of the way her home appeared.

He still had his hands in his pockets and he swung his arms forward while stretching his back, several loud cracks audible as it popped. "Well if you're a Reaper then that means your home would be in the Deadlocker." He turned and motioned for her to follow, facing up and into the stream of most of the sidewalk pedestrians as they went the opposite direction. "I need to get promoted already so I can get my own place too," he mumbled to himself as he started on his way, not caring if the woman heard him or not.

"Oh yeah. My name's Edward by the way. You can just call me Ed, though," he called over his shoulder as he walked. He was very nonchalant as he shouldered his way through the crowd, not caring the looks he got with his hands in his pockets and his head hung slightly. He looked extremely bored while he walked.