{ THE PURGE } The Gathering of Legacies

[Meegane]

[ ❀ Shu - Door of Protection - Fear of Owned - Ancient of Lost (Loss/Forfeit) - Loyal to Deus ❀]

She would like to stay in the room a bit longer, enjoying the weird dreams that involved people she knew. The dream about a cheerful sweets witch and her wonderful school life.....no curse, no harm from her beloved one, nothing was lost. It was what she longed for, in the dream, she was deserved to be loved, she could get as intimate as she could. She was a happy existence. The Sweets Witch named Shu, she was so jealous of her. The girl's hand unconsciously clutched onto the thin neck of the empty bottle, finger dug onto the glossy surface and caused sharp noises. The witch might be failed in her life, but she was loved, surrounded by - creeple that she received and gave love to. "Why.....W-Why?...Why I can't just be there.....forever...."

Maybe the one she knew would be appeared in the dream, like Mimsy.....she could be a resourceful jabberwock, like her golem. She would be happy to be a creature from the wonderland series and they can still form the family. They could go for an adventure together like they were in the wonderland while she could tell her about everything of Wonderland, the unforgettable realm of dreamland....The idea was so pleasant....Shu held the bottle even harder. Robert....the tall giant bear....he was actually like a big golden retriever...so probably some sort of spectral hounds....she read about a species with red eyes called Cŵn Annwn...maybe Robert would be one....The girl closed her eyes in pain at the impossible but promising imagination, they hurt her because she knew she would never, never get it. She could even pet Robert's fluffy ears if they would be tangible. Then the trainee started to construct her own world of Halloween world, based on the one she dreamed....

People she encountered....Jordan sensei...that was a hard one...Roland....Mimi! The super sweet farmer girl could be a witch like her! The girl giggled at the adorable idea, a witch looking for her cute little pumpkins, that fitted her a lot. The two witches could hand out talking about their family traditions, shared what funny events they had in classes....the idea was just so good...Waifu-She always imagine she would be a beautiful bird...Oh Cami, the sweet cheerful Sun, she would be - a witch-no- a valkyrie maybe...She could still teach her how to cook properly and talked about their important hug project. Shu smiled again, with a weak hint of bitterness. Everything won't change, but she could enjoy a better life.

The vision given by the drinks....another world it presented was a big lure to the petite Asian girl. How perfect it was? How exciting it was? How interesting it was? Yet, it was not within her grasp. It was like sands escaping her hands when she wanted to hold and cherish it like forever.......She continued to create, a world of her own with people she knew. Rep, the charming and nice redhead, he would be some sort of giant monster in her mind....but when Shu thought deeply....maybe a virus ghost would fit better, like how he created talking topics on twitter....he was the spotlight most of the time. The girl chuckled at the thought....all those imagination were just - too precious to have...oh Mr. Bashmet! The one who can make tasty heaven-like cake...he-that robot-like (sorry Mr. Bashmet) - he maybe a -a-demon! Probably taking about efficiency a lot.The Shu that regarded herself as the sweets witch giggled again...and Miss America...Mr. Thompson...Gale...Kylee...Bix..Peyton...they are all nice people...She wanted them all there...if she can...



The smile on her face disappeared when she was brought back to reality, where she was -simply a human, a better species called hunter. "Nothing..." She released the bottle feebly. "Nothing Z."

Then it was no time for the agitation, the comfortable and well-lit room began to shatter into piece, forcing her to step onto the stairs ahead. Shu didn't want to, it was so dark onward, like the horrible maze that - that she was all alone. The voices of her friends were not real.......She took a deep breathe, despite of the dissolving room behind, and made her first step. It was a heavy step, as if a choice she had made, correct or not, there was no return. Second step was even heavier, but when she turned back, the room wasn't there, replaced by an abyss. The stairs were like floating within a oblivion, besides the crumbling sounds that urged her to climb upward, that was nothing. No one would be waiting for her up there nowhere, she would be alone. The blank expression on her face was a rare scene, like a puppet doll controlled and hauled from her body.

Shu felt uneasy, she felt it hard to breathe but there was no one tangling her throat. The girl was given no choice but to move, the stairs were waiting for her, each step out, the stair behind her from a distance crumbled until she reached the top. The idea of her own world was still haunting her mind, causing the agitation within her core. She didn't catch what it was, it was just there, squirming and reminding her, giving her bad poisons.

What does she want?

What's it she longed for?

Why it's within her?

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Indulged in thoughts, she didn't realized she reached a plain, the stairs behind her drops down like the keys on the piano, as if a big moment of her was coming and a prelude was played.

Who bring me here?.....And why?.....Am I needed?

Maybe it was her expression, the Death Trainee looked a bit maturer than she usually did, lips closely pressed against each other. There was no wind, just silence and quiescence hand in hand. Shu felt something was calling, beckoning the self she didn't want to know. She stood there, staring at the doors that emitted a different kind of aroma, seven colors. Each was calling a piece of her soul, asking her to enter it, as if her body was pulled by seven people, some grabbing her two arms, some slightly brushed over her hair, some clutching her ankles. One was grasping her by her neck and one was pulled her to their way by her waist like a pair of powerful arms. They gave her pains of different levels but all hurt. Her body felt the pain, but her soul even more.

It made her screamed, using all of her energy to cry out.

They were like men didn't know what to treat a girl properly and they scared her. She was in the middle of them, being tore apart. The girl under great unbearable pressure first plucked away the force that chocking her by her throat, that wasn't what she was looking for. She disliked violence even if sometimes she was lured by it but she hated it, as a victim of it for years. It might leave a bruise on her soul but that was it, she won't answer to that invitation. Then, it was the one on her ankles, a weaker strength compared to others, just able to remind her his existence. He promised to give her authority, the power to control. Sadly, the girl gently removed his grasp and shook her head. "Sorry, that is never what I want...." She apologized and moved forward, yet stopped by another one. A black hand. He didn't hold her ankle firmly, just dragged her back when she walked away. Shu tried a few times, answering the beckon that reached deeply to her core most, but pulled back every single time when she did. The girl sighed, looked down at the invisible force that might be on her ankle. "You know - I might hate them....I might want them to die-I had thoughts like that when I was pushed to the cliff - but-but I never want them to suffer like what I experienced....even the one that caused the accidents-even-even they took away my beloved sisters..." A tear shed down, drawing the curve of her face. Shu squatted, covered her hand onto the intangible force and slowly detached it. "Let me go." She steadily walked to her destination, but looked at the warm embrace from the violet arms on her waist. It was great, it soothed her pains but at the same time, adding it by another way, reminding what she did wrong in the past, softly teasing of her dishonesty and secrets. Shu liked him, he was always the one who protected her from breaking.....yet...yet...he wasn't her favourite. She didn't want to be a traitor, she didn't enjoy seeing the sadness and mistrust on their faces. So she left, left from his comfortable hug that he promised he would wait forever and always welcome her back. The one that brushed her hair gently seemed not how to treat a girl, he was awkward and just reminded her he existed from time to time. "You seem didn't know how to deal with people, maybe you will find the one that matches with you, but sorry- that isn't me." She giggled lightly as she stood between two doors, the forces that were fighting by pulling her wrist the exact opposite directions.

That was a very hard decision - they were the two that attracted her the most. The blue and [ white ] hands on her wrist, maybe. She tried to ignore them, cleared her heart completely. The white promised her of what she wanted, what she longed for, like the wonderful crystal ball dream that she could never touch. It was too expensive too precious for her, but she was given a chance......Reborn....such an seductive idea.....Conclusion, the best gift for a curious girl that always asked questions.....

On the other hand, the blue promised her - A constant need - of her - People will need her. She would become someone that everyone asked for. "You know-" The girl said slowly. "-I never want to be a hero...I don't need people to worship me...yes, I like being liked, but I am not eager at it. I-I just want to protect those I like, as a form of love..." Shu explained.

Who should she answer? And more importantly, why she had to answer?

Was she a selfless person? The answer was no. She only wanted the people she liked to be with her, that's why she protected. Unlike those super heroes in comics, she wasn't a great figure, she won't answer to every hand reached out for her. There was a selection. Thus, she walked towards the white door, wanted to immerse herself in grief and memories.

However, Protection gave her images, consequences that if she didn't choose to protect the world. He persuaded her of what might happen, the worlds that she never want to be in them. Like her deceased sisters, if she didn't choose him, her friends would die and she would be alone. He threatened her with close whispers, cold and a state-a-fact tone chilled her heart. The coldness froze her soul, it clutched, reminded her of the pains when she lost them. The pains that she hoped she could die together at that time, or someone who could kill her. She feared, the petite girl scared most to be abandoned, only herself in the darkness. She couldn't move, her time would be stopped. People she liked gave her the fuel to continue to run properly, replenished her soul with care and love. Shu was in great fear, the empty room without laughter, the heart that a hole was made, the lost of their existences.

"Once owned, you don't want to lose." He said. Giving the white door a finally bitter smile, she turned around and let the blue force invited her into the blue door.

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Inside the door was not a new world, but an altar. "Why?...Why me?...What's this place?" She walked closely. "Are you the one that call me? Why?" The emblem burned without flame, emitting a sharp blue light that drew her full attention. Part of her didn't want to get closer, but her resistance was too weak, her eyes couldn't leave it. The two pulling forces made the hand she reached out halted mid-way, but if one looked carefully, it was shaking. "Please. I don't want to - I-I-Why me-why?" Finally she lost and she touched the emblem that oddly resembled a shield and her consciousness was robbed away. A tear dropped down from her soulless eyes.

Shu didn't want to be a hero, but they crowned her to, given the weak and unstable girl the title. Her luck was working, during her protection of her loved one, she also hurt many others, taking their lives, the existences that other hunters called enemies. She felt exhausted, regretted to hurt so many lives and souls but she needed to, she needed to make sure the one she loved were safe. She was in great pains, glad that the one that she loved was still living but blaming herself for taking other's loved one. It hurt, it stabbed onto her fragile soul.

The admiring eyes of the young trainees, the adoration that she could feel warm her. They thank her for the protection, they said they wanted to be like her, so powerful and fearless.......They were wrong. She scared, when her hands were soaked of bloods of the others. She felt it's had to breathe, she didn't know how to breathe. She cried, she burst into tears, agitated with sorrow and happiness. The once cheerful girl had lost her smile. Yet, she had to protect, responded to the helps that needed her. She was nothing, yet, she was everything they asked for.

However-

Yet-

They died. No one could evade the death. She begged, she yelled, she cried to bring them back, it was fruitless. They were gone, but there were still people asking for her protection. She was exhausted, she was reluctant, but she didn't want to disappoint those she started to like. Shu got attached too easily. The inability to protect everyone, the lives that drifted away from her hands.....that drove her crazily gradually...She could barely sleep, every moment in her dream replayed the deaths of the one she couldn't protect, their smiles, their pains, their screams and moans before they died, they all haunted her, taking away her tranquilness.

Finally. The last one she loved died within her bosom, her expressionless eyes were dropping tears but she couldn't feel it. Everything seemed numb, no sense, no emotions, she didn't feel anything but the weight of the body. Blood was slowly running out from the body, announcing the death that had come, she was dyed in red, the blood from others and the body mixed together. The blood that splashed onto her face were absorbed by the tears and she was like crying blood. She felt her mended heart with millions of bandages finally broken into pieces. She was still surrounded by the enemies who glared and snarled at her. "......What I did wrong?.....When did it go wrong?" The puzzled girl looked into the eyes of the enemies and then to the sky. It was raining, washing the existence of the life once hosted by the body she was hugging. Despite the millions of weapons pointing to her, she gently snugged the body, called gently to wake them up. Trial after trial, asking them not to play the joke. Nevertheless, there was no response. The piled up smile on Shu' s face wrinkled up, and she put it down, as if giving up a very very dearest treasure of her own and summoned her weapon. She laughed, like a broken music box, and took away one life from the swarm. It was just too easy to take away a life, right, Mr. Death? The enemies flinched, stepped behind for a moment of the weird action of the huntress. She was moving too creepy, like a puppet controlled, but they didn't miss the craziness from her eyes. She was like a haunted or cursed doll, giving them goosebumps with just a glance. Anyone who dared to approach had their lives taken shortly, the maiden was tainted with more blood, until she was wearing a red coat.

She took away the majority of lives, she was surprised of it too that she was actually able to kill so many if she wished. The violence in her was discovered, but it wasn't comparable to her loneliness. The reality that the one she loved won't talk to her anymore, won't hug her and tease her again bitter-ed the huntress. She was no longer crying or already forgot how to cry. "Z, only you and me.....like how we started." The huntress whispered as she slaughtered another existence. The enraged enemies in sorrow like her attacked all in once, daggers penetrated her body and sharp claws leaving large openings on her skin. They hated her, from their eyes she would tell, but she didn't care anymore. They wanted her death. She slowly couldn't stand, pulling out the daggers only made her wounds bled quicker, her face turned pale indicated an emergent need of blood, but she didn't care. Even more, her inner was severely damaged and she was coughing blood. She smiled, at the coming of her death. It was so painful, like a paper being crumpled up. Shu gulped the blood down her throat, panting but insisted to stand up with the aid of her weapon. She wanted to look at them, engraved their expressions in her eyes. She wanted to continued but her body was collapsing. Her action encouraged some fearless hunters to join the battle and finally their enemies retreated temporarily.

They let her laid on the ground, she felt it was the time. People said they can meet the deceased one after death, she hoped it was true. The exhausted broken huntress reached out her bloody hand with a lot of un-healing wounds to touch the youth's head and faces, telling them she will continue to protect them right in their heart. That was what she believed - everyone has an urge to protect, eveyone can become the hero, not only her, though she never think she was one. The young huntresses and hunters that knew her burst into tear and hugged her. They gave her the warmth that she was losing and didn't care of getting their clothes dirty. She smiled in relief, closing her eyes.

Finally peace.

.......

.....

Not yet.

As long as there was the one who asked for protection, she was there. Her spirit was within the younger generation, encouraged them to protect the one they loved no matter what. They might fear, they might get hurt, but it's worthy. In return, she will protect their souls, soothing them with her hugs. There were stories about her, the brave nameless huntress that once led and guarded them onward. She fought until she died, she was the protection. As long as there was a need of love, that would be a need of protection, the two co-existed. Thus even though her body was gone, she still existed. People asked her to give them power and courage to protect the one they loved, or being protected by the one they loved. Their hands reached out for her, for the great Protection, it warmly soothed her core, the meaning of her existence was given. She was never forgotten, deeply hosted in everyone's heart, she was delighted. Years after years, people died and new babies were borned, she still existed. She became a nameless hero that had her own myth, people talked and passed her story down, her legacy. The legacy herself didn't asked for the worship, she only asked for the safety of her loved one, but soon everyone became who she loved, that's why she had to protect everyone, responding to their request of protection. In their eyes, she was the hero, she was the Protection.

She guarded them from behind, they returned her with needs and the essence that helped her grew bigger. Her core was shone, polished once more. To those who didn't know her existence, she was a concept, but she grew more and bigger by the needs of people for protection. They asked for protection, they fear of the pains and sorrow, they needed a greater one to shield them from those things. And that was she they chose. The need came with fear. They afraid of losing her protection once they were protected. They pleased her, they loved her. they needed her. They expressed all their needs outspokenly. The Protection herself smiled, satisfied with the needs for her protection.

She fed on their love and fear, she grew bigger and stronger through time. Slowly, she became something, not only legacy, she ascended, transcended the concept of goddess into an Ancient. They fear of losing of protection. "Once owned, you don't want to lose it." She whispered through her legacy into people's heart. Fear developed within their hearts, they started to afraid of losing what they once owned like money, successes, luck, the people that they love and even more their own lives. They asked for the protection to keep all they were having, that's her. As a result, she rebirth-ed. No longer a simply human, but an Ancient that had the power to manipulate.

Shu understood the fear of lost so well, she used to afraid, she used to beg for people's liking and got pushed away. That was why she cherished the love from her sisters so much, she clung to them every moment she could, she lived on their care and love. She absorbed and continued to exist for them. The lost of her sisters were like sands drifting from the gaps between her fingers, unable to retrieve or remedy no matter what she did. She cried, she yelled, she asked why. She kept a distance, not to own anything, but yet she got attached to people too easily. The girl feared, grabbing onto the lives of the one she loved, guarding them from dangers so that she didn't have to experience the pains of losing them. She was afraid, of her own death, she hated the pains she obtained and had to bear, yet, it was so much better than the pain to lose. She couldn't bear with it, same as other people. Mimsy, Robert, Mimi, Waifu...and others she liked, she wanted to keep them forever so that she was happy and not alone by herself. She was selfish and greedy.

So the Ancient of Lost didn't answer to every request, she deliberately ignore them so that they could feel the pains of what she meant - Once owned, you never want to lose it. On the other hand, she continued to protect some, giving them courage to protect and sooth their souls with warm hugs. Then, she grew even greater, from the fear and love they gave her as tributes.

He made his promise, the need for safety was so enormous and she was loved and feared. People asked for her hug and protection. She became something deserved to be loved, by the one she loved, by everyone. People didn't feel alone since their precious treasure were protected. She told them to cherish the things they own, she taught them the importance of protection, she warned them the fear of losing the things they once owned.

She was the Ancient of Lost.

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Shu was back, she was more powerful yet more sad. She asked for the reason why she became the Ancient, but she knew she simply existed. They existed, so she existed. With a sweet smile, she cried quietly, for the tragedy that people lost things they wanted to keep, the people that they loved so much. She empathized them and cried for them. It fitted her so much, because she completely understood how miserable and crazy that feel was and how she could sooth them with warm hugs.

She was brought back by Protection, and she knew what she should do and can do. The girl touched affectionately at the shaft of her hammer. "Z, you look much more handsome now." She said.

"Time to go, to protect the one we love."  

[Rejam]

[Taym / Protection / Loyal to Deus Ex / Ancient of Sacrifice]

He sinks his fingers into the shape above the altar, and they are shaking.

The silence after the scramble is deafening, a cold, roaring absence, and he stands among the survivors who catch a collective breath, watching this strange, thin man in a coat that was once white and has long since been reduced to charred, ashy grey and brown. He has picked out the threads that marked the handles of the scythes and left the sickle shapes, because there is no Organization now but he knows what his place would be in it, if there were. Fiona's runes flicker and die and he realizes she is too weak to heal him this time.

They wait, silently, as he straightens over the dissipating carcass of the Beast, breathing heavily, and just as one of them inhales to cheer he exhales, and a dark string of blood forms at the corner of his lip.

The Beast has taken dozens and today she has killed one more, but it will be the last and there is, he thinks dimly, no better reward than this. They close in, touching him, gathering him into their arms, passing him from one to another with their urgent cries to get help arriving muffled. A very small child--he cannot tell through the haze of pain and the encroaching unconsciousness whether it is a boy or a girl--touches his hand reverently, as though touching a king, or a god.

The war will continue, in the wreckage of cities and in the decay of civilizations, and possibly, just possibly, his side will lose. But it will not lose for a long time yet, and while the war may continue this battle has been finished and he has won it, and it only takes one battle to create a story, and only one story to create a legend. They will sing that he died too young, a pretty little ballad of sacrifice. He is drawn poorly by inexpert hands, a totem, a reminder, and the scar of his throat is clumsily rendered like the slash of a lamb's on an altar. Iconography is born of a series of small and beautiful mistakes, and his is no exception.

They say that one day he'll walk among them again and mete out a righteous punishment to their tormentors, if a fair sacrifice is made. The things that he truly was--a weak man, prone to a surfeit of emotion and a deficit of sense; an angry man; a violent man; a man, above all things and just that: a man--are forgotten, effaced permanently.

His name is a good luck token and a rallying cry first, and over time a prayer. It is on the lips of every warrior crouched in the bombed-out shell of a housing project, knife drawn as the paws approach, ready to die in snapping jaws to protect his home and his family. It is spoken with reverent fear by those who would cringe and ally themselves with the enemy, a lurking mythical danger for the frightening of scarelings who are told that to meddle with his chosen disciples is to meddle with men and women who will gladly trade a death for a death. It is the cry offered up by every mother whose daughter is swallowed up by the night: let her be so strong, let her be so brave, let her be so lucky. Let her come back, as he will for those who remember him, and if she does not, let her loss be a lucky omen, a charm against further grief and a shield for her younger brothers. Let her disappearance be a debt paid. As it is, for those who remember him. Who revere him. Who worship him, until "him" becomes too small a word to contain what he is, and the world changes shape with the eons but his legacy persists, and his name is the name of Sacrifice.

A woman's wailing for her daughter, vanished into the dark, lingers: an echo tangled up in the skein of his too-human thoughts, and for a deafening and disgusting second he thinks that he has never heard a sound more lovely.

Shaken, he looks down at the weapon he doesn't remember drawing, at the golden edges climbing ornately around the blade and catching the white light of its runes. It reminds him of something--he can't think of what--the thought escapes him, swallowed up by the sudden chaos of reality.

He isn't sure what he's fighting for. But he's fighting for something. He closes his steady fingers around the gilded hilt of his dagger, and he is, he thinks, ready to sacrifice.  

[Meegane]

[Destruction - Fear of Losing control - Ancient of Lurked - Loyal to Self]

The boil was about to leave the room, after waking up from the dream reminded him of the Wonderland. All those weird funny dreams with the presence of his friends and strangers, he believed they truly existed somewhere. The meeting with the AI of the game he played in a collective dream, the one called Wonderland which provided a super exciting and weird adventure to him, he couldn't help to have the idea of some might be hunters, like his friend, Jake and Sherry. He grinned, enjoying every single moment in his dream. The faceless cute girl in apron, that he would cook with her together and shared his confection with her, that's what an apron was used for after all. He happily took the body contact, the warmth as well as the encouragement. "You can do it..." He repeated lightheartedly, hands dotted his face with a smile. He didn't know what she meant, but a thank you was needed, no matter she heard that or not.

Then the room crumbled forcing him to go onto the stairs in front, for one moment, he was thinking what if he stayed and fell, where he would be brought to? However, Head's calling made him erased it and made his step out. It wasn't worthwhile trying, that wasn't the death he longed for. With his hands in his pockets, AJ moved up whistling, the crumbling didn't place a threaten to him at all. As the stairs behind him fell, he felt a sensation of joy brushed across his soul and disappeared shortly. The path was long and it continued to climb upward, but that didn't bother the serpent-dragon at all, he had plenty of time. "What do you think we are going, Bro?" He asked the Head, still whistling some sort of light melody as he stepped out. It was believed that if there was music, he would dance between the stairs as well, taking the risk of falling. Luckily, there wasn't any and the boil continued to walk in darkness, even his good vision would help him to spot anything without light. It was like it was like that all the time, just darkness forever.

When he was about to get bored, he landed on a big plain, where familiar colors were presented, the seven kingdoms that was another dream that he always remembered. They called for him, they asked for his entry. "I didn't know I am that famous and loved. Wow~" He joked, even at that moment, he joked. They whispered at his ears, telling him what he would get if he chose them, as if businessmen advertising and boasting for their products. He laughed, really laughed out at the thought. He was an easy customer, he knew what he wanted most with just one glance and no one could shake his decision.

Taking a peek at the reminiscent color of green that promised with something he didn't interested in, he walked towards the red, his favourite color all the time. The signature grin on his face grew bigger and bigger, until his figure disappeared behind the red door. Destruction. He promised power, he promise violence and most importantly, he promised him change.

-------

Behind the door, the emblem called him forward and he willingly did and touched it, let it swallow him. It was so exhilarating. That was what he longed for, he no longer need to hide or suppress it.

Violence warning...idk if it's gore or not >_>

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He was surrounded by people holding weapons against him, but his eyes already covered with their blood, it tasted so great, like heaven, like a beautiful dish of dessert. "You taste like strawberry jam, do you know?" He licked away the blood on his claws. "I am no kidding, do you wanna try as well?" He smiled, with the blood at the tip of his mouth. The dragon pulled up the human and moistened his claw with their blood and fed it to their mouth. "See. It's delicious, right? Thank you for the great meal." He said, as his claws dug into the body to pull out the throbbing heart. "Who's next?" The creature with a wicked smile asked the people and the creeple around him. Head who was contaminated too was eating the bloody corpses leftover on the battlefield.

The creature asked for destruction and the Head asked for food, there was no difference which faction they were coming from. He simply wanted to destroy, destroy everything within his sight. "It was so much fun, it was just GREAT." He laughed with high enjoyment. He torn anything that attacked into pieces, imagining how wasteful it was when the guts and internal organs splashed out when they were cut open. "Ohhh....that would be a great dish..." Head suggested with a deep sigh. The living existences feared of him, for how violent he was, how crazy he was. They didn't want to be his enemies, but in AJ's eyes, there was no enemies, just targets for destruction. They were too pure, they were just too good not to ruin. He wanted to break them, demolish them from top to bottom until nothing was left. The urge was growing, the cheering chime within him.

Yet, he was just a creature and he can be harmed. Each single attack left him with joyful pains and wounds, his body was stabbed with weapons and he was bleeding. But he was smiling. That was what he wished for, ever since he was born. She taught him to suppress his urge to destroy or he would hurt the one he loved. Yet, he couldn't control his desire, he enjoyed it, seeing others screaming and suffered. They attacked him with anger, putting him down by collective force, like an elephant would take down by millions of ants. He appreciated it, he admired their cooperation. It was so beautiful.

Even at his last breathe, he wanted to touch and messed them up, sniffing the good smell of their blood. His claws reached out for them but a stab on his core forced him to dissipate, that was the death he longed for, the ending that he asked for.

He loved war.

There he was gone, no one remembered the creatures that once brought them fear, he was forgotten. AJ asked for attention, he hated the feeling of being ignored, being discarded, exactly like how his parents treated him. He tried to draw their attention by all means, he studied hard, he practiced sports frequently and excelled in each of them with his talents. However, she did even better, effortlessly. He hated her, he hated everyone, he wanted to destroy all of them so that his soul can be peaceful. He beckoned and whispered those who had a desire to destroy just like him. Wars never stop, truce couldn't stop his whisper of destruction to people, they continued to initiate wars under his sweet words. He was hard to resist, he triggered the violence within their cores.

He wanted to destroy, he wanted to join every single war he could see, the desire of destruction grew within his soul, he needed a body to meddle the world with his destruction again. Trained to be a gentleman, his worst nightmare was losing the control and hurt the one he loved, yet, it happened, not only once in his dreams and illusions. He feared, he suppressed his violent nature, he locked up his desire to destroy everything in the deepest abyss of his heart. He knew this fear too well, he knew what he needed to do in order to exist again. He hated to be forgotten.

Therefore, he came to the self-discipline people, dug out the urge of destruction within their heart and tempted them for what they could get if they let go. They feared at the consequences that they might have caused, they were afraid that they couldn't be themselves anymore. Yet, Destruction was too powerful to resist. They surrendered, regardless of the consequences, everywhere were battlefields.

So he existed, once again. He grew stronger as those who experienced the powerful destruction of war. He was war, people feared of his coming. He started to exist in every single mind as they started to learn the merits of violence. He was representative of Destructive, he asked for more violence. He showed them his power and let fear grew their hearts.

He lurked, he dug out the desire of destruction. He made use of the fear of losing control of people and made him grew more powerful. Through the wars, people slowly learned how horrible Destructive was, his legacy deep rooted in everyone by fear. People who longed for power to destroy worshiped him while those who experience his destructive feared him. He fed on both and grew even bigger. Decades after decades, his legacy passed down. When war existed, he existed. Since people never stop to ask for more power, there were wars. He enjoyed what he saw in the wars, moans and tears, blood and corpses everywhere. They were nothing but tools to spread his legacy.

People feared the urge to destroy within them, they felt like carrying a time bomb. They suppressed it, they begged him not to trigger it but at the same time asked him to activate it. Once their violence were discovered, they hurt the one they loved, someone they even kill them and only pains left. They cheered but they regretted. They asked for no more.

Lastly, he was reborn, as the Ancient of Lurked.

To make humans feared him more, he continued to unlock the beasts in their hears and let them destroy. He lurked within them, reminding how nice violence was from time to time, driving them into a simply a creature of destruction. Suppression didn't work against him, he was an Ancient, all they could do was fear and worship. He agitated the calm water.

He became Destruction. He transcended. He was Ancient of Lurked.

-----

The boil woke up, finding himself back to his world. With a click, something was unlocked and his memories about her came back. "Welcome home." He said. Shortly, the shadow underneath raised. AJ saw a shadow of himself, more powerful and violent. He told him if he didn't want to hurt the one he loved, he would do it for him, just let him overtook him. The boil felt his existence fading, replaced by the stronger shadow. AJ didn't defend, he was much better. He saw the dragon that stomped the ground, it was meant for destruction. AJ found himself locked in a mirror within the beast's palm, he couldn't move his body. The beast was unleashed, and it asked to destroy everything, tear everything apart until only chaos was left.

"Hey hey that doesn't sound good~" The Ancient of Lurked playfully commented as the beast moved by its own.  

[Melodine Cantus]

Kylee Chang | Destruction | Loyal to Deus | Ancient of Inadequacies

The emblem that hovers above the tree-like altar looks eerily like a heart. Almost like the heart that decorates the hilt of the spear she is holding. Almost like the heart that clasps a black sash around her waist, as part of her uniform, and perhaps it's this little pieces that she finds solidarity in that gives her reason to stretch her hand forward.

And it pulls her in and red sears her vision.

She can smell the blood.

The metallic, tangy smell fresh from wounds inflicted upon those around her as they fight, and even the ones with darker, more muted undertones that signify the loss of life; the smell that comes from the bodies that lie around her, the flow of blood from their injuries ebbing as the heart ceases to beat.

And even more so, she can smell the blood that comes from her skin and stains her uniform. There's a difference between the blood she sheds and the ones that splatter on her, either from an ally or a fallen foe. And she can tell, for some odd reason.

She's not sure who else is left standing. Who on her side is still alive? They have somehow been split in the throes of battle, and sometimes, she hears others yelling out to each other, calling for support or screaming out as they watch someone they care for get injured.

But never her name.

They never call her name because she's not someone overly important, even if she fights to her very last breath, with all her strength. No one swoops in to her side because she's someone that is dispensable, and that is all she will ever be. Why is she even fighting now? Why is she forcing herself forward even when she knows this, even when she realizes that no one would care either way, whether she lives or dies?

Hot angry tears begin to well up and run down her cheeks that are caked with dirt, sweat and blood, and she doesn't bother to wipe them away. She channels this anger into every thrust and spin of her weapon, and barely registers it as claws rake her skin and draw more of the crimson fluid.

She doesn't give a damn, even as the creature roars in her face, sand swirling all around them as they encircle each other.

She is so focused on this one enemy, so determined to knock it down and stab and slash at its body to alleviate the gut-wrenching fury that boils within her. To tear and cut into flesh and have it bloodied and shredded at her feet, and her senses ignore everything else.

Including the beast that is right behind her.

She only realizes it as it rips into her back and sink its claws deep into her, curling around her spine. When the other one descends upon her as well, to make sure she has no fighting spirit left in her body.

She doesn't scream. No one even screams.

No one yells her name out in anguish and horror as she draws closer to her very last breath. Even as she stares up into the sky, she sees nothing, only ash and smoke, and then laughs.

She laughs until the creatures rip out her throat, and is left there, glass-eyed and broken, and simply just one of the many bodies that litter the battlefield.

No one would give a damn. And all she wants is to destroy them all, to let them see. Even if they do not know who she is when she embeds her heel into their face, she will cause such pain and suffering to all of them. There will be no rest until everything is rent asunder beneath her feet.

And then maybe she will feel like she is worth something.


She awakens and her gray eyes are cold and impassive. Hands that were once reluctant to use her spear for its true purpose are now steady, and she takes the gold ornate curl around the hilt of the blade as a sign.

And she is ready to destroy.  

[kuropeco]

The steps seemed very tall.

He ascended them slowly, each movement taken one of caution and care, Gale not wanting to disrupt anything, make any sudden movements. His heart felt strangely heavy inside of his chest, and when he stepped into the room he could see the altar across from him. It drew him towards it, and he stretched out his fingers, wanting to grasp it.

He fell asleep, or so he thought later.

The life he was living was a good one; he could see his people in front of him, and he could feel the warmth spreading throughout his body, making him recall what he had once lost; that he was their hero, their protector. He kept them safe and they in turn offered him gratitude and friendship and adoration.

He didn't so much care about the adoration, but he appreciated the friendship.

He felt lonely.

It ate away at him, curled in his stomach, dragged down his insecurities until they had overtaken him. He lay on his back, his chest heaving for air, his body slowly ebbing into nothingness, and he could not stop the fear from shaking in his bones, reverberating up and down his spine.

He did not want to be alone. Being alone was a terrible burden.

The fear, at least, slipped into him, pushed upwards and outwards until he was nothing but the fear; and he wanted nothing more than to succeed in his goals, to help others succeed in theirs. Hard work was not something that he had ever had difficulty with, and now he would teach it to all he knew, to all that he cared for, all that grew around him.

He was not a leader, but he could protect them.

He was not a leader, but he could guide them.

Gale awoke, disoriented and confused, quite a bit later; and it was only when he had dragged himself back to reality that he understood the situation he was in - or at least, believed himself to understand it.

He felt tired.

Quote:

Blue Door of Protection / Ancient of Determination

Quote:

Loyal to Deus Ex: Your weapon now has gold metallic trim around it, replacing parts of it, giving a more ornate design.
- Every time you MISS add +1 to your counter. When it hits +5, add that to your HP to heal yourself. It cannot be stacked with any other ability.

Quote:

Locked memories: The lock containing your memories snap as suddenly you recall everything you sealed again. ((OOC: It is optional after this whether or not you want to regain these memories or have them reseal, both are doable))..If you are one of the old sealed creatures ( legacy auction pieces), all you remember is being promised something, but the yearning to belong is strong.
- + 5 HP added onto your stat

 

[medigel]

It was a nice change, to fall up. She had been in a tower once before, just as desolate, just as hollow. But back then Stormy, not the hunter but the lowly servant given Pride's power, had fallen before she could reach the top, lying broken within the pieces of rubble. Now, rather, she was faced not with one downfall but seven doors.

It was a strange indecision coming over her now. Stormy wanted none of their legacies at first. Why would she? Promises were offered that tempted but at the same time made her wary, for who knew what else lied beyond those doors? What if making a choice merely meant becoming another servant again? What if she just stayed there and never chose, what then? Would the tower boot her out? Would she rot away there? Would anyone miss her?

(Why would you think that?)

< < Indecision will get us nowhere. You must be willing to take a stand. > > Thane had no further comment; they had been of almost one mind this whole mission, and he would defer to her judgment in this matter.

She hated making choices, seeing as she always made the wrong one.

In another life she had been one of Gold, and her artifact often reminded her of the pride she used to have, the confidence, the purpose; but what the was point of reliving that when she knew she didn't truly feel it? Choosing the Gold Door would only reinforce her dependency on the theme, would give her only artificial confidence the way others had dutch courage. Had she been better as a whole, Blue might have been her preferred choice: the need to protect, to nuture, to support . . . But she couldn't do any of those things, she felt, not properly. Not enough to matter. Creation, Revenge, Destruction, three powerful forces she could not participate in because she was too small, too narrow-focused, too weak. Reflection almost drew her in, but there were dark vibes coming off the door that made her question if it really was best. She couldn't ever fit into anything so neatly, and she supposed that was why she was often tormented in the long run.

In the end, as she had thought for so long, all she had left to her name was the Grief she could not let go of, not after years, not after months, not after weeks or days. The pain in contrast to what could make her happy sustained her in inexplicable ways, and it led her to the altar without further debate.



And in the end, that was all she felt in that arctic wasteland. Guilt. Grief. Their bodies were being slowly coated in layers of ice and snow from a large opening forced through a wall, each more mangled than the last: one team destroyed just before the base had been taken back. It was supposed to be a routine retake, a group of the most trusted and experienced people she knew. But there had been one fatal flaw that had undone them: they had trusted her leadership.

The horsemen had overrun them in minutes in an ambush. They had been expected.

And now she was there, left barely alive to either bleed out or return to her masters, they did not care which. Over the soft and frosty howls outside, the screams and gurgles of her teammates still rang in her ears, long after they had fallen silent. Stormy was too numb from the ambient cold to notice how much she was bleeding out, gouges having torn through her protective layers as easily as if there had been tinfoil wrapped around her, and she was too numb from the sheer fact that this moment in time existed.

There was time enough to get her pendant and port out, claw her way back to the infirmary and hate herself later. But she was not a rational creature: all she saw was the dying, not the dead--the chance to save them, not the chance to mourn.

Scraping herself against the floor, she brought herself to each carcass (each still breathing body) and stole something from each: Evan's dogtags, Nevada's eyepatch, Sherry's hairclip, Jake's necklace, Lex's scarf, Abbi's crescent pin, Gale's ring (not Jinhai's for he had turned into a tablet, but the other one that sat snug on his finger, the one whose twin she wore). She held them all delicately in her hands, crushed them to her chest, dangled on her person, spoke to them, threw them, found them again, kissed them, screamed at them, cried over them, prayed over them.

And in time, they became part of her.

Each item was a microcosm of the person, an entirety of their make up, their hopes, their fears, their emotions, their memories--and the more she had of them, the more strength returned to her. She lived not for herself, but for them and more: for those who had fallen and were in danger of never being remembered. She stole away personal items out of benevolence, and in the light of her compassion they would all see that it was best: the dead never truly died.

It was a blessing and a curse: the good and the bad measures of a person were never forgotten, each and every memory of theirs accessible. She saw the extent of kindness and the depths of madness, the insurmountable sorrows and the blazing edge of anger, the sour taste of sin and the hint of thoughts never spoken. They were all utterly, utterly human, and she remembered for them when others praised heroes and villains. She understood the necessity for the binary view: it made the world easier to exist in even as it fell apart.

She had no formal name. She was no ghost, nothing so dark as a revenant or ghoul, nothing so benevolent as an angel. She simply was just as much as the memories were, and she moved where she felt called: to the mother who could not look to alcohol to hide her shame about her past, to the soldier who could not face the open eyes of dead comrades, to the young orphan whose home had given him nothing but malice. The living and the dead were slaves to their memories--she was simply the medium to deal with it.

But it was no burden to remember when others would rather not: doing so meant that in turn, she could never be forgotten. And if even one person still held those memories as close as children, then no-one could ever truly die.



And perhaps because of this, Stormy too remembered. The lock fell away from her weapon with a soft gasp, but she still felt as numb as the figure in the snow. What she looked like, the clarity (the depths, the darkness lurking) in her memories, the purpose of the vision--they were all quietly pushed to the back of her mind for now.

But the deeply seated belief that she was needed would not go away. All doubts erased, Stormy ascended the steps with a grim air, bracing herself for what was to come.

white door - ancient of memories

Quote:

Locked memories: The lock containing your memories snap as suddenly you recall everything you sealed again. ((OOC: It is optional after this whether or not you want to regain these memories or have them reseal, both are doable))..If you are one of the old sealed creatures (legacy auction pieces), all you remember is being promised something, but the yearning to belong is strong.
- + 5 HP added onto your stat

Quote:

Loyal to Deus Ex: Your weapon now has gold metallic trim around it, replacing parts of it, giving a more ornate design.
- Every time you MISS add +1 to your counter. When it hits +5, add that to your HP to heal yourself. It cannot be stacked with any other ability.

 

[kuropeco]

Quote:

Green Door of Creation / Ancient of Loneliness

Quote:

Loyal to self: (No allegiance whatsoever) Something strange happens. A shadow overtakes you, standing in front of you. It solidifies, looking like your worst nightmare in a world where you survive. You become a weapon, you become a horsemen, you become a mass of insanity and only insanity. The shadow whispers, tells you this is your rightful path and you feel yourself fading. They take your place.
- You now rp as the SHADOW, a replacement, a better form of what you were. IF you are a student you can choose to become a weapon (with the Hunter) or you can choose to become a terrifying Insanity beast or a vengeful horsemen accomplice. If you are a horsemen you can choose to become insanity, if you are a Hunter you can choose to see your insanity or student form/ etc. This is basically their worst possible outcome they fear visualized into reality. In their hands is a mirror where their TRUE consciousness lies. The shadow version (that you are now rping) contains only vengeance while the mirror contains their regret. Both parts can communicate with each other, but only the shadow has control.
- Select one of the bonuses above depending on what faction you end up as. If it is still a student, you can upgrade one of your charged/Fear attacks to a year higher only once per boss fight/ battle.

Quote:

You can upgrade one of your charged/Fear attacks to a year higher only once per boss fight/ battle.

 

[Miliardo Kason]

Sammy had grown tired of the Corridor of secrets, noises above them faint, but steady had called her away from the room. Leaving the other behind she pushed forward into the dark stairwells. At first nothing seemed amiss other than how narrow the stairs where going up. Still she forged onward till steps began to fade and twist, vanishing away almost as soon as she touched them and moved to the next. All in all it wasn’t too strange given how the rest of the tower seemed to work.

But the stairs weren’t the most interesting part, no, that was taken by the doors lingering in an open space above. Seven doors. Seven Kings. Seven Legacies. The memories didn’t even need to be brought up, they came back like water pouring from a glass, another life, another time where she had given up her life to protect others, an action she would never regret and she would do again and again as time marched onward. That Sammy had died, but she had found a new home tucked away into Sammy’s memories, a Legacy of sorts, one still yet unfinished.

“I wonder if the others will take that door,” it was a pointless statement, the memory of another self wasn’t a weapon, it wasn’t a living creature in her head. It was simply another life time of memories crammed in beside her own divided by a thin line of ‘it happened, they might know, you know it, but it wasn’t entirely real. Only so much so far.’ Still she marched towards the door, the faint tug growing stronger with each step, the idea of balance, of seeking to protect. Distorted memories surfaced, conversations with Red became warped and twisted causing the ghoul to stagger mid step. She believed in Balance, in protecting everything and destroying those who sought to break the balance, who had she made pacts with? Another surge of pain cut through her mind, a Hunter. A hammer, a beast of Insanity, betrayal, by who? Confusion burned it’s self into her skull just as much as the cry to Protect screamed ahead of her.

None of that really mattered though as she pushed through the door.

Once inside the pain of the locked memories seemed to fade, a dull throbbing compared to the pulsing sense of right that lingered before her. The emblem was familiar, like an old carving in the side of a tree in the woods between two lovers. A mark that always brought back a fond memory, a sense of purpose and delight in its existence that couldn’t ever be fully shed. Slowly, a hand of blackened bone reached for the symbol, she only had a moment to grab on before her mind was invaded again, thankfully with far more welcoming memories.

Sammy was resting on a stone slab, Siddie was by her side, she felt old, Siddie looked old, how old where they now? A life time had passed in a moment and Sammy could hardly recall the details as she lay broken and battered on the stone slab. On her chest a heavy weight pressed down, a sword? The details where scarce, she couldn’t see straight, the world was flickering away like the dying embers of fear that filled in for her eyes. The flames where still there, just long enough to look to the side, a crowd had gathered, strangers and faces of those she had loved and cherished all watching as the flames dimmed lower. Siddie was smiling, a pained expression, one that spoke of just how proud she was of the ghoul laying on the slab, a smile that showed how painful it was to say goodbye. Slowly the world faded and the flames died, FEAR was returned to world, but the love and memory remained, a carving of Sammy soon replaced the empty slab where the last of her fear had faded away leaving behind only the sword and the image of the one who held it, the one who chose to use it to protect and maintain a balance between the worlds.

Somewhere, a spark grew, a small purple flame that continued to pulse and quiver, at first it was weak, lost and confused, but somehow it wasn’t upset with this. It was a simple spark, a simple fear, a fear that a balance would be broken, a fear that it couldn’t protect the world it had once inhabited. Slowly the spark grew, feeding on its own fear, growing from the collective voice beyond it that cried out for protection as well as its own desire to sedate that fear. For the first time in its life it understood what it meant to be warm, not a cold dead corpse for a body, not even a warm body filled with life. This was something more, this was protection . The flame grew like wildfire, those once protected turned to the memories, to the Legacy left behind by the growing flame. The idea of a higher being, a higher plane of existence or some other sort of force would bring protection to those who sought it out. Growing like a whispered legend, a legend that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Some sought out the blessing, this strange power, those true of faith and heart who sought to keep the worlds together and not yet torn asunder and destroyed. Those who challenged this balance spoke of the power in hushed fear, unsure if the power existed, if those who sought to turn it against them would meet an end as terrible as those in the Legends.

Soon another element slipped into place, a sense of love. For every small act the power seemed to have, for every victory cry of its name it felt a ping of love and devotion that echoed back to a simpler time, a time when only one person had loved it so, and had fed it all the love it needed. That name was gone, a memory, a part of the Legacy and the tales passed down with it. Now however the idea, the figment of power felt this love in every person who sought it’s shelter.

This was beyond the power of a God, or a creature of FEAR, no longer bound to a single form, tethered to one source of power. It was able to pull from all the corners of the worlds and feed on the praise and worship. In turn it lashed out into the world altering the Legacy, striking balance and protecting those who sought it. Protection was still there, a quiet hum in the distance, only blocked out by the sound of cries from those who remained, those still seeking Protection from others of chaos and misjudged intentions, these voices spurred the Ancient onward, that gave it a purpose that gave it a name.

Samantha.

Suddenly the world burst into light and color, the once omnipotent force that manifested only when needed was given shape and form once more, thrust back into the spire and into a moment of chaos where Balance was at risk, where people needed to be protected. Sammy was for the most part the same, oddly though the purple flames that had been her eyes had changed; replaced instead by bright blue that once would have been a mark of Insanity, instead it was the color of protection, a glowing blue sigil of the same etched onto the back of her usual jacket.

Something was wrong though, the dark chain around her neck, the twisted lock that held it in place began to burn, searing pain and twisted memories roaring to life consuming the reborn Ancient.

Pride.

The woods smelt of peppermint, tainted by the tick iron scent of blood. Three other students lay bleeding on the ground. Each in a different state of suffering, Amrita was twisted, far more than just her hands and feet, her neck hang at an ugly angle, cuts all along her form. Barth was no better, blood had finally stopped rolling down his lips as he lay shattered against a rock and for that Sammy was at least grateful, they were gone now, they needn’t suffer any more nor watch the others fall.

West was beside her, barely alive, he would be next, the icey blade held by the creature know as Jingleberry twisted the blade one last time causing West to gasp as the life slide from his eyes. They should have dissipated, why hadn’t they? They suffered, they died, was this the power of JOY gone horribly wrong?

Sammy could feel the blade twist in her own gut digging deeper as he leaned forward. The voice was wrong when he spoke, it was dark, twisted, far more evil then she recalled. Something was unraveling. Somewhere behind Jingleberry a figure of blue light appeared. Forward the figure marched a bright blue sword in hand before it seemed to cut the world in two, the illusion unraveled falling apart at the seams.

Jingleberry lay on the ground face first, not dead but defeated, Amrita and Barth had still dissipated but with far less suffering then the memory had implied. West was beside her, battered, and bruised, by all rights a step away from dissipation as well. Helma seemed amused by it all and gave them both a stab with a finger, square in the chest. The next thing she remembered was the pride of seeing that little pin tucked inside a note, a pin that she had held so dear as a sign that she was something more.

Love

Shehk stood on the steps of the train station, the ghoul had a sneer running across her face. What had gone wrong, what had she said to be so rejected? Sammy was on her knees in tears as the other ghoul lashed out at her again not with fists but words.

Worthless, desperate, whore.

Insult after insult, all she had done was confess how she felt, how much she cared for the ghoul and yet all she got in turn was scorn and hatred from Shehk. A blow that cut deeper than any sword ever could do. Even as she knelt there tears stinging at the corner of her eyes the figure appeared again, cutting away the haze, reverting the memory to what it was.

They sat at a train station, hand in hand, time was slipping away faster than they could manage. There was no anger in the air, instead there was a sense of worry, not that things would go wrong, but things would be different, it’d be the last time they spoke for a few months and the results there after would change everything if she didn’t speak now.

She loved Siddie, she loved Shehk, they above all others where the first two people the ghoul had connected to at this school, the first two people she loved in every way. Saying goodbye, risking that love and letting it go was one of the most painful memories she held, and one she had thrown away to save the world if only to forget that Shehk would never remember this day.

Trust

The hammer struck Sammy like a thunder clap. When had he betrayed her? One moment Jordan had been attacking the Insanity beast, they had discussed something, about Balance, about working together in some strange way. Yet the only thing Sammy could remember now was how that hammer cracked every bone in her rib cage. The canine like sneer across his lips that would have made Rep look like a kitten, this wasn’t Jordan, not the Jordan she had talked with in the strange twisted garden.

The hammer was rising up again ready to deliver the final blow when a bright blue blade slid through his midsection cutting the scene in two once more.

Instead of fighting each other they turned towards a vined beast, hanging in the strange garden. Tendril after tendril of the strange flower like monster had struck her down. Again and again Jordan outpaced her crushing vine after vine with every strike of his hammer. She was fading away, her fear slipping away and dissipation drawing near. She had no chance to survive.

That was till Jordan turned his hammer towards her, a warm mist rolling from the head, stitching up broken limbs and torn skin. The weapon Ferros gave up it’s gathered fear to return some to her, to build trust between them. To make sure the conversation they had wasn’t just false promises and empty lies. That there was trust.

Sin

So at last the memory she feared the most, the reason the first person she ever trusted had grown to hate and despise her so. All around Hunter and Halloween fought, in the center of the storm Red and Caelius crossed weapons. It was surreal, almost amazing to see Red wield one of the Hunters tools against them. The battle was growing closer to a climax, and for a moment the memory was all the same.

It happened in the moment of a couple seconds. Red's shoulders were squared, chin held high as she confidently stared down her opponent. "This all ends here, Caelius," she said loudly, her voice ringing and echoing off of the canyon walls. "Goodbye."

She pulled the trigger.

The flames cut across the students.

All around student and Hunter fell, Caelius thrown off by the sudden change. Each weapon, each student, consumed in a brilliant blue flame that fed the weapon, that fed Red. Not even Caelius could stop the flame as it consumed him. Somehow Sammy had survived, her arm twisted and blackened from the assault.

In the middle of it all stood Red, barking with laughter, completely insane, twisted grey tendrils snaking across her form and weapon. Another wave of blue fire, a dragon looming impossibly huge lowering its self-downward to level with Sammy. Lingering flames rolled between the dragons maw.

“Why!?” It was first memory Sammy could recall she spoke in, the others she had been silent, but this one, this one she had questions. They didn’t matter though, Red only barked in more twisted laughter, “Because you’re weak, because we’re hungry. I’ll destroy them all one by one and you’ll be the fuel for the fire.” Again the voice was wrong, it wasn’t Red’s or the Dragons voice, something tainted twisted and wrong.

Suddenly there was a sword, brilliant and blue like the figure before. Sammy sat up, forcing herself towards Red screaming in defiance of the memory as the blade plunged into the skull of the beast. A beast that crumbled into dust, dirt, and stone, littered with pins of students who marked the grave.

All of it came rushing back.

The beast had indeed attacked, but not at first, Red had died, consumed by her weapon, reborn into a beast that no other had yet to equal. Sammy had been the one to call a charge against Red, against her friend, and once the closest thing to a family the ghoul had ever known, the reluctant caretaker who had given her someone to turn to in a time of need.

It was a shameful sin a memory she had wanted to forget because she knew she could never make it right, she couldn’t give Red back the years lost, there was no way she could mend the damage she had done, oh how she had tried to gain forgiveness. Each time she only made it worse. Throwing away the memory had only made things worse in turn, the twisted powers of Merlin, though she didn’t know it was him, had tainted each memory when they finally where returned in a twisted lock.

---

All of this happened in a flash, just as quickly as the emotions rolled over, twisting Sammy’s face in a moment of pain and shame, it was gone. The lock clicked open and the chain hanging lose around her neck no longer weighing her down with corrupted memories tucked away. The flames in her eyes burned brighter now, the sigil on her back burning in turn as well.

“I know what I did, what I’ve done, and what I am.” A blue flame flickered to life around her burned left hand. “I’m going to stop this. I’m going to stop you Medea before you send everything into chaos. I’ll protect both worlds.” She made her choice and moved to join the battle against the Horsemen leader.

show spoilerhide spoiler

Door: Protection! Blue Kingdom 4 (un)life

Locked memories: The lock containing your memories snap as suddenly you recall everything you sealed again. ((OOC: It is optional after this whether or not you want to regain these memories or have them reseal, both are doable))..If you are one of the old sealed creatures ( legacy auction pieces), all you remember is being promised something, but the yearning to belong is strong.
- + 5 HP added onto your stat

 

[yylaayl]

[ clara - black door (revenge) - allegiance to self - ancient of unforgiveness ]

Clara didn’t dare look back. She could hear the crumbling of the floating stairs behind her and feared that if she didn’t walk fast enough, she would fall just as each step did. That and there was nowhere else to go but up. After what felt like an outrageously long time, which was probably brought about by the unending darkness the seeped through the smallest of cracks, Clara finally made it to the top and saw the doors. While there were several doors, she knew immediately which door called to her, which door she was going to pass through – the one that glowed black. Revenge.

The altar was the first thing that Clara saw upon entering and it was the only thing that she saw. She walked towards it, drawn in, no hesitation in the slightest, until there were only a few centimeters between her and the altar and her claws had grasped the symbol burning on top.

The future she’d been taken to came in the form of a scene that played out in front of her eyes was one that she knew would happen and one that she’d had nightmares about many times before. She was lying there, helpless, watching as her friends walked up to her and then past her. With all the strength she could muster, all she could manage was a mere croak of “help”. Not a single head turned, not a single hint of intention to help her. It became impossible to breathe, impossible to move. And with that, Clara felt everything within her shatter as she was reduced to nothing.

But then she was reborn. Her form had become a large tiger, which was her natural form, with glowing gold eyes and mist perpetually flowing from her – an insanity beast. She recalled the memories that had been locked up of a certain boy who’d been her best friend but had betrayed her along with the so called “friends” she’d had who had walked away without a second thought, leaving her to die. Anger surged through her – anger so deep that it filled every bit of her existence and could not be extinguished no matter what was done. Although she’d become just a mere thought, there was no way she would forget them, and in a way, all those who had done deeds that would go on remembered and would continue to be remembered until they’d atoned for what they’d done and even then, reparation wasn’t enough. She was the Ancient of Unforgiveness.

Quote:

loyal to self: (No allegiance whatsoever) Something strange happens. A shadow overtakes you, standing in front of you. It solidifies, looking like your worst nightmare in a world where you survive. You become a weapon, you become a horsemen, you become a mass of insanity and only insanity. The shadow whispers, tells you this is your rightful path and you feel yourself fading. They take your place.
- You now rp as the SHADOW, a replacement, a better form of what you were. IF you are a student you can choose to become a weapon (with the Hunter) or you can choose to become a terrifying Insanity beast or a vengeful horsemen accomplice. If you are a horsemen you can choose to become insanity, if you are a Hunter you can choose to see your insanity or student form/ etc. This is basically their worst possible outcome they fear visualized into reality. In their hands is a mirror where their TRUE consciousness lies. The shadow version (that you are now rping) contains only vengeance while the mirror contains their regret. Both parts can communicate with each other, but only the shadow has control.
- Select one of the bonuses above depending on what faction you end up as. If it is still a student, you can upgrade one of your charged/Fear attacks to a year higher only once per boss fight/ battle.

Quote:

locked memories: The lock containing your memories snap as suddenly you recall everything you sealed again. ((OOC: It is optional after this whether or not you want to regain these memories or have them reseal, both are doable))..If you are one of the old sealed creatures ( legacy auction pieces), all you remember is being promised something, but the yearning to belong is strong.
- + 5 HP added onto your stat

 

[Seussi]

Everything dissolved around him, leaving nothing more then a set of stairs that seemed to float in the air, winding upward as far as he could see. Finn rolled his eye skyward, his face set in a grim line, and inwardly he cringed. Did he really have to? He looked around. There was really no where else to go.

He climbed the damned stairs, taking them at a run if only to get through it faster. His legs were beginning to cramp up by the time he reached the top, finding an assortment of colored doors staring back at him in a circular room.

He walked around, stopping in front of each. What did they mean? There were a couple of them that he thought to open, that seemed to call to him on one level or another, but ultimately, it was the violet door that he went back to a second time.

With a frown, he pushed the door open. On the other side, an alter sat, though there was no fire that burned, only a strange sigil instead, some kind of symbol that he didn't understand, but that still called to him, beckoning him to come closer. Against his better judgement, he stepped forward, reaching one gloved hand out, fingers closing around the emblam....


----------

Betrayer. That's what he was. He was a treacherous fiend, giving away secrets only to save himself, caring little for anybody else or how it might hurt them. But those who had found out about his disloyalty had been angry, they had beaten him, leaving him dying on the ground. This wasn't the way it had been meant to end. He refused to let this be it. He had been so carefully manipulative, had did what he needed to, to survive.

He would not die here. A smirk lifted up the corner of his mouth as he reached out towards them, not imploring, but to get their attention, to tell them that he wasn't sorry. He didn't regret.

He didn't care.

Captured, caged, left alone for an eternity. If he died, he didn't remember doing so. Trapped as he might have been, he continued on. He lingered. He refused to let go. A shadow visited him, and he grew in power and his body changed from an empty husk as he became something more. One glowing blue eye a body of grays and blacks, legs bending, breaking backwards, clawed, fingers that turned to talons, spikes, a terrible maw full of too many teeth.

His rebirth driven by both respect and Fear, a need to protect and to destroy, his power grew, and he became something more, a being that gnawed away on people's consciousness, that sowed the seeds of doubt and paranoia. He was ultimate power. His was a legacy built upon lies. He was corrupt.

-----------

A single glowing blue eye snapped open, and everything that was terrible about Finn Connor had taken on physical form, an awful half blinded creature of spikes and talons and teeth and battered wings. In clawed, scaled hands was a mirror, where a conscious that regretted his choices lay bound, forced to watch, unable to control.

But able to remember, as something that bound his mind seemed to snap, flooding him with memories he had not known could exist anymore.

An then the being moved, and left the room of doors behind.


Finn Connor // Reflection // Loyal to Self // Locked Memories// Ancient of Lies  

[baby_gwing]

These stairs. They would take him closer to where Medea was. Yves started up the steps without looking back even once, driven by the need to see this through to the very end. To see with his own eyes the rebirth that the priestess had promised to all of the Horsemen should she be successful with her plan.

Looking at each of the seven rooms in turn, he found his gaze drawn to the one that was red. Destruction wasn't something that he was unfamiliar with. It was something that he would even go as far as to say was entirely up his alley in fact. If he could use his power to change things the way they were at the moment into something better, it wasn't in the Executioner's nature to say no. Especially when it concerned something of paramount importance like the fate and future of many others like him in the Lost Clan.

With his choice made, he stepped through the door and towards the altar that called out to him, his hand outstretched towards the emblem...

----------

He collapsed onto the ground beside his brethren who were defeated before him, his breathing ragged, his strength failing, his movements clumsy as he grasped the shaft of the spear with both hands and made a last ditch attempt at pulling it free from his torso without success. Unacceptable. This wasn't how he expected this war to end. They were supposed to be victorious. To return eventually to their kin and a feast held in celebration of their triumph. There were still so many things that he had yet to do. He couldn't allow himself to fall right here and now.

It wasn't long till death benevolently delivered him from his wretched existence. As he drew his last breath, he cursed his enemies and the world, wishing death and destruction upon them for possessing what was from now on beyond his reach. He didn't know how but something must have happened for he simply continued to exist even after he supposedly 'died'. For years, he wandered the lands alone, at first observing the creatures around him until he eventually came to realise one day that he actually had the ability to influence their thoughts, to drive them to action when apprehension, inertia and morals steered them away from potentially destructive acts and behaviour.

Traveling far and wide, the Ancient of Ruins laid waste to everything that happened to cross his path. Families and lovers were indiscriminately torn apart. Great kingdoms and tyrannous leaders alike were brought down to their knees. Absolutely nothing was spared at all in his wake. His powers grew with time as did those who came to know of him, a great many acknowledging him as a force that was not to be trifled with and therefore chose to steer clear of his path lest they too got caught up with the destruction and ruins that he left behind by the time he was done.

----------

He found himself back in the tower, only that his appearance was no longer the same as a result of his newfound power in the form of a black crown adorned with red jewels sitting atop his head. Curious. Taking a step forward, he stopped at the sudden flux of the unsealed memories in his head, a smile curling his lips as he simply stood there and relived each and every one of them that made him who he was today.

It wouldn't be long now till the return of things to how they were back then and it was with that in mind that he pressed on to lend his strength to Medea.

Quote:

Yves - Red Door of Destruction - Ancient of Ruins - Loyal to Medea - Locked Memories

 

[Pixie Nyxie]

Dakota - Blue Door - Loyal to Deus - Ancient of Love

Dakota had lost Molly....AGAIN. The girl got seperated from him more then he wanted her too. Especially in a dangerous place like this. As the rooms disappeared and a singular staircase shot upwards, Dakota couldn't help himself.

"IS THIS THE STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN!?!?" He chuckled at himself, singing the tune, though it wasn't a cheerful one, up the flights.

He wasn't surprised when the stairs led to a floor dedicated to 7 rooms. 7 Kingdoms. 7 choices. He knew this game well.

Though he was of white, of grief, it was the blue room that called to him. It was protection, and Dakota was protection. He would die for his loved ones.

It was a no brainer for him, he just did what he did best, followed his gut and entered the blue room. With a altar visit and touching the emblem, Dakota found himself in somewhere he hadn't been since he started this mission.

---

Love.

Love was such a heavy burden for anyone to carry. He had so much of it, and so little people to give it too. It felt like he was bursting from the seams, with so much. He cared. He cared about people. He cared too much. He could love anyone, if they gave him the chance. Man, Woman. Friend, Lover, Brother, Sister. He loved with all he had. He loved with all he was.

His love had been his death, his tribe finding him repulsive and obsolete in their design. There was no love for them. There was only war, and death and hate. But he had been meant to love, to be free to give it to who he wished.

He died, but they remembered him. The ones that had loved him back, those he loved more then himself. And as they loved him, they feared it. He grew like a sapling from it. Their fear was nutrients. That fear to fall for someone, to open yourself up, to be so complete lost into someone else.

And then it grew further. It wasn't just love for people. It was love for pets, It was love for Material objects. It spanned like trees root over the world, and instead of just memories of a man who had loved all, it was the ideal of something completely selfishly their own. He grew. He grew tall and proud.

He basked in it, The love he could not have before was now the love he fed off.

He was an ancient of something that everyone had whether they wanted it or not.

He changed, but he did not. He knew he was and what power he held, but it was a power he had always had. He stepped away from the doors and descended to the rooms where his enemies waited.

Lucyal