Welcome to Gaia! ::

When Lazenca awoke, he felt horrible. His face seemed raw... every action hurt, from opening his eyes to squinching his nose. The rest of his body didn't fare too well.

A mixture between a growl and a groan slipped from his throat as he began to pick himself up off the ground. He still seemed to be in the same place. "Whoa, what the he--"

Lazenca wasn't allowed to finish the sentence as a force from an unknown being delivered a blow so hard that it lifted him off his feet and sent him sailing many feet back, until his legs caught a tree. The impact with fauna against the back of his legs made him spin around quickly before coming to an uncomfortable stop on the ground.

A vibration carried in the ground... and then another.

And then the bestial roar.

"Sezahm."

:: 62 floors beneath the ground, only the echo of a girls sobbing could be heard. Why didnt her tears stop? Those words should have been comforting, but she looked at him and her facade of strength crumbled to tiny bits. She fell down beside the bed, her arms folded under her head and around his opposite hand. Tears poured like rain, and all she could do was repeat something over and over just under her breath, it was barely audible as the voice was muffled with the wet sheets. Until the sobbing eventually faded, and just once, she said the words aloud so that he could hear her. It was so important that he hear her, more important that he believe her when she said it.::

I'm...I'm sorry....

::She was still sobbing, and still wiping her teary eyes as she leaned up to give Datho a peck on the cheek. And then reached down the table beside the OR table Datho rested on. Her hand, had gently clasped the hand that carressed her face. And with guilt pouring over every feature of her body, she gently pulled the weak hand, down, and picked up a needle from the table.::

...please forgive me....

::She said, as she moved to slid the needle into Datho's forearm. It was just another tranq, but one with a timed release. Its entire purpose being to simply enter the blood stream, and as its broken down over days give a constant dose of sedative...of sleep. It was specifically designed to put the brain to sleep, leaving the body reminiscent of a comatose person. It was a sick fluid the doctor had nicknamed S.T.A.S.I.S., it was used in...harvesting. To make the process humane. Though Mary wasnt feeling very human right now...::

----

::300ft outside the Black Tower eighteen men stepped into formation around the perimeter of the structure. They were an elite squad of mages, each could conjur a spell that could annhilate a man in less than the time to took to say the mans first name. The snow had melted were one man stood, with his long flowing white beard and his red crown. The man was a King in all senses of the word, and little did he know what his firey nature would begin.::

Fire!

::He shouted as the first volley of mages let loose a stream of fireballs against the tower, immediately followed lashing whips of water, strikes of thunder, and finally a gigantic armada of boulders. But the tower stood strong, it was an edifice in memory of a mans right to live as he chose, and that man would not be broken so easily. With a blast of invisible force the front row of mages found themselves flung back several feet as M4X descended from the sky, floating like a wieghtless leaf on the wind.::

Discontinue all aggres--

He wasnt even given the chance to finish his sentence. A fireball would have been to easily dodged, water likely wouldnt even have reached a target so high, but a volley of thunderbolts from the stormy sky, sent the Android spiralling into the snow with a crunch. The impact tore his outer skin revealing his more mechanical nature. A voice filled with pride, a voice charged with anger, and majesty, the voice of a king.::

You send us toys!? Coward face justice for your crimes!

::Justice...the Doctor laughed at the words before pressing a few keys and setting for the loud rumbling associated with the main tower door screaching open. Out he stepped, alone, followed by Lucian, though Marcel stood inside and out of view.::

I have no quarrel vith y--

::The Doctor found himself interupted by a rude man in the ruby crown.::

I have a quarrel with you, abomination! Give me my son! I will not stand to have his power used for heretical displays of the Holy Arcana!

::The Doctor remained calm, solemn, and softspoken, while Lucian nervously hugged his leg. The King had apparently already twisted and warped the events in his mind to create his own twist on the events at hand. Unfortunately he didnt seem to be the type that would listen to reason, but the Doctor would try none the less. He took a deep breath, ignoring the sound of a Ding in the background coming from the open tower door..::

I do not have your son. Ve--

Father?! Father I thought I'd never see you again! I was attacked by a Warg and these wonderful people saved m--

::Kraden...rather, Prince Kraden's voice rang out from the hospital door as a look of shock came across the Doctors face. The Prince ran across the snow into his fathers loving arms. As his father embraced him, even through is Warg skin coat he could feel something was off. He pushed his son back, pulling up Kraden's sleave to reveal the monstrous arm he had been "gifted" with. The sight cast a look of horror across his face. He pulled the coat back, and lifted the bottom of his Son's shirt revealing the metal bits and bobbles which had been used to re-construct and patch the poor child. Kraden looked ashamed. The King however, looked furious. He looked at the boy like he was a monster, no longer like a son but like one of the enemy. And with a move of his hand, a gust of wind shoved Kraden back into the snow.

The Doctor, folded his arms across his chest placing his temples loosely in his right hand as he massaged his aching head. That was exactly the kind of prejudice the Doctor wanted to save the boy, but he just wouldnt listen. Now it seems there would be problems...but nothing to serious. Being a doctor as he was he was quite used to handling problems with a cool head. His family was not in danger, his home had taken barely noticeable damage, and M4X could be repaired. This was simply going to be troublesome, look down at his sons scared eyes and cast Lucian one of those silent looks which simply says "Its going to be ok.", and the King began to shout.::

You...you....FREAK. You dare turn a child of Royal Magi Blood into THAT!? He was the chosen of our lost ancient race! You have killed my son to make a monster! My child is lost! You have cost me my heir!!!

::Kraden...was heartbroken. All along he felt like the outcast in the family that welcomed him. He missed home so very much and now that it found him, his father shoulted about him as if he was dead, when here he was...edited...different, but very much alive. He was being called a monster, a freak...in the chilling cold, his tears turned to ice before they even reached the snow. Didnt his father understand? They saved him. The fixed him! All he could do was cry...The Doctor simply shook his head from side to side. He had no time to comfort the boy now.

But the tears did not go unoticed. Little Lucian had learned a very important lesson earlier today. When a person is broken, and on the floor...you run up to them, you wrap around them...and you remind them of how much of a friend you are to them...so thats what he aimed to do. It had already worked once. He ran from the Doctors leg, taking his fathers gaze to heart, aiming to run past the King.::

Lucian no!

::The Doctor shouted, reaching from the boy, and just barely grabbing the back of his suspenders, just for them to snap loose in his hands. It was too late.::

You cost me my son...

::The Doctor was powerless...the stone was down...the shield was down, and though he lunged forward his old body was entirely too slow. Marcel let rip a horrible roar as he dove from the Tower, door but all too late. Halfway between the Doctor and Kraden, the first fireball struck poor Lucian, tearing through flesh and bone, scorching his arm horribly. Before he could even rethink his course of action, the second hit...letting rip a cry of immeasurable pain. The Doctor dug off the ground to tackle the king, only to be blown back by a gust of wind. Even Marcel found his leap carried him entirely too far as the wind picked up and flung him. The screams of a poor child literally being roasted to death filled the air as the entire squad opened fire on the small...innocent child... Lucian managed to look back at his father just catching his eye and hold out his tiny hand begging for help, before it was blow away, and he was engulfed in a fireballs bursting. The terrible sight of his son reaching for him, and the heart shattering sound of his screams were the last memory the Doctor would have of his greatest achievement...of his precious son...of Lucian.

The magical onslaught ceased the moment the screams stopped. The Doctor couldnt even think of revenge, the wieght of Lucians death was too much to bear. His knee's dug into the snow with a wet crunch, his flung arms right into the flame and pulled free the remains of his burned son. And there was silence because his cry ripped the air, he pulled Lucian in closer as tears streamed from his face. There were no words, he was too sad for words. But he cursed every god and magical being that simply could not just let his life be. He only wanted to be left alone, to live his life alone. Lucian was never born with power, he was just a harmless little child...reduced to the past tense by another self righteous mage...as the kings hand rose to finish off the Doctor, the broken man didnt even bother to look upwards.

Marcel was without sound...he looked the part of a truly broken creature but inside his heart had been pure...and now, in all of its purity he was shattered. He would never hurt a fly, he would never hurt anyone, he never had...but now, for all his peace his watched his little brother be the victim of war..

Disgusted the King's hand began to glow as he prepared his final attack. He wanted it to be messy. And he wanted to say his final words.::

And eye for an eye...so reads the tome of Go--gack....

::One could have audible heard the sound of the Doctors mind snapping yet again. Or perhaps it was the sound of this right arm retreating inwards and his bone saw ejecting. Either way, the king had said the magic words. "God". The Doctor quite honestly was growing quite sick of them, and they're creations. Deep inside, somewhere he had made the resolution that the only way to remove the gods, was to remove their creations....each...and every...one of them. One by one. And he swore and oath to. The mark of that oath being the rather large blade he had just buried in the Kings gut. Slittering bits of flesh dripped down the Doctors arm. His green eyes had grown cold, and as stone solid as his face. The sickening wet sound of organs being purried by the Doctors spinning hand could be heard as blood and intestinal juice splattered across the cold physicians face.::

God vill not save you. God is not velcomed in zhis vorld any longer.

::The Doctor said flatly, as if all emotion was devoid and lost. He rose to his feet, letting Lucians body fall into the snow. His labcoat covered in blood and ash. He saw it as a prelude to how the world would soon be. The mage squad stood silent and still sizing up the Doctor, the first to move was the first to fall. He dashed forward across the snow in with all the precious of a surgeon severed the mans head from his body with a single fluid swipe.

Marcel took his fathers cue, he galloped across the snow burying his claws into the first two mages he saw, in a rush of rage, he let out a terrible raw as his giant claws eviscerated and shredded their bodies. With bits of their flesh still hanging from the jagged strips of cartilagenous bone he moved to the next to impaling one and using his massive fangs to bite the man in two while quite literalling flattening another with the wieght of his massive arm.

It was judgement day at the Black Tower and they were the angels of death. In a matter of mere minutes, the front of the Tower had gone from pure white snow, to a blood red butchers shop. Organs and sinew were layed out across the field like lawn ornaments. What was once a squad of 18 men was now scattered assortments of meat and crushed bone that even the Doctor could not use for spare parts. And in the middle of the field, untouched but for the blood splattered on his terrified frame, was Kraden.

The Doctor stood covered from head to toe in splattered red, as did his son, did not even give the child a glance as he made his way back into the Tower with M4X flung over his shoulder, he was followed by Marcel.::

Do not vorry my son...I vill save you...I vill save zhis vorld...

::He mumbled under his breath, speaking to his departed son. Kraden ran forward trying to beg forgiveness only to have the massive doors slam shut in his face. The Doctor wasted no time, not a second, not a breathe, not a moment. With a terrifyingy cold face, he made his way into the elevator shaft and began its trip to the top of the tower. There was much to do...::

::And old friend...if he only knew how right he was. With Towers defenses so wide and open the place was open to any number of visitors. Perhaps it was one of those visitors that caused the feeling that would overcome Datho, perhaps it wasnt. Really in the years to come, Datho probably would never truly know, but what he would know was the feeling that overcame him the moment his mind slipped into unconciousness.

Have you ever gotten the feeling you were falling, falling into nothing but endless black? That was the feeling Datho found himself overcome with. The hospital was gone, he could even see his hands and feet as he feel, but fall he did. Everything around him was void and nothing, just hopeless amounts of black.

But soon there came stars scattering across the black forming a night sky, but yet still Datho fell, and fell until the night became day, and day revealed a cliff. Free of his control, his hand reached out and with a jolt grabbed onto the craggy edge of the cliff with the sun beaming straight down into his eyes. Below him, was the sky, but above him was also he sky, strangely it looked as though a little kid had painted this place. One could swear the sun as bright as it was, was drawn in crayon on a white piece of paper. He stood hanging by that one hand, without room for his second for about a minute or two before, the sound of feet crackling against dirt was heard. And a dark sillohette of a person walked to the edge of the cliff, and sat down, leaning over it. With the Sun directly behind the persons head their face was blotted out. But this person was smiling.::

Oh hello there Mr. Sunstrike, thats a funny place to be...what're you doing down there?

::So it was a male. A very kind male that spoke with a voice so warm and friendly it was as if he had known Sun for all his life.::

::The figure cocked his head to the side. And a hand visibly rose to rub where his chin should be. He seemed somewhat amused, something in his silohette said he was smiling.::

Hmmm...me? I dont know...



Up...I'm up?

::And indeed, he was not up. As Sunstrike might notice, the mountain side, in something of a blink became what felt gravitationally like the ground. And the cliff edge, was actually a plateau that Sun was on top of, with a man leaning up and over. The sun was still behind the mans face buzzing into the poor boys eyes. The figure cocked his head.::

It looks like your up from here. Is it lonely at the top?

::As he moved closer he'd find the figures tricky mask to be little more than a trick of the sun. As he moved closer, the figures head blocked the glare of th sun, and he would stare right into two eyes. A black one to the left, and a white to the right. At this close range he may even be able to make out the mans navy blue eye brows, and his navy blue hair. Though he'd from from both the mans temples back were streaks of black hair. The figure smiled and chuckled just a bit.::

Good! It was a really bad joke I suppose.



::His eyes looked side to side as if honestly trying to ponder the matter.::

Hmmmmmnnnnn....no thanks!

::And with a blink, his voice came from behind Sunny. He was sitting in a branch on a tree a good 5ft back, a tree that simply was not there a few seconds ago. His feet hung down, and he was smiling from ear to ear. It looked like the yellow crayon sun was starting to set, and streaks of oranges, and yellows, and whites were stretching out over the paper sky. It was beautiful in its own accord, it wasnt exactly the work of picasso but this kid, even though he was as sloppy as the average two year old, had a good grasp of colors, and managed to mix them well enough to make a convincing sun fall.::

So, what brings you here Mr. Sunstrike?

Ha ha!

::The man said from atop his tree perch, taking a triumphant pose with both hands firmly upon his hips. And then every so epic-like he pointed down from his branch at Sun, with cheer all throughout his voice. Was this all a game to him?::

Of course I remember you, but if you know I remember you than you know you, which means....

::He paused for a second with his eyes gazing upwards scanning the stars which had begun to peek in the now night sky. Each star was drawn in the kindergarten fashion, as a bunch of connected lines high up out of reach. After a second or two of contemplation he continued.::

...you remember you! Otherwise you know wouldnt know that the me that knows you, knows the right you, and not a different you! Or someone that isnt you at all. So, one could surmise you havent lost yourself at all!

::That was quite a mouthful, so the man took a deep breath, and reached into the tree and plucked an apple down. It was nice and red and oversized and overly round and also poorly drawn. He examined it for a minute. And then examined Sun beneath him.::

You seem tense, have an apple!

::And he dropped it down. It was quite the tasty apple, no matter how badly drawn it was, and thankfully it was much without a worm unlike most kindergarten teachers apples.::



Name?

::The man tilted his head to the side and placed his hand on his chin letting out an audible "Hmmmmm".::

What is a name? A title by which to remember a person, place, or thing?

::With a heft of his legs and a push off his arms, he soared from his tree branch down behind Datho with an oompf. It looked like he was wearing a hoody of sorts, and below the hood was the insignia of a skull stitched in. As he turned around one could see that the hood, though down, was attached to some sort of formal jacket top. A row of buttons came down from the neck of the hoody to the waist at which point it opened and flowed down to just about the figures ankles. And behind him, the jackets tails were split ever so slightly up to about the hieght of his knees almost like a tuxedo. He wore jet black pants which were slightly cuffed at the bottoms where they fell on a set of black dress boots. Not your formal outerwear, but a clean dull leather boot.

His hands were dressed in gloves, the right hand with a full fingered glove, and the left with a fingerless glove, though both hands were busy patting dust off his pants and adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. If you looked close enough, despite the high collar of whatever he was wearing beneath the jacket, one could see the fringes of some sort of tattoo which came up from the neck and ever slightly marked his neck with its fringes. There was something more to his clothing, but as nightfall was creeping up and he was wearing black it was hard to see. Even with the giant badly drawn moon sliding up over the horizon.::

But if you call me something, and someone else calls me something else, and someone else calls me something else, which name am I?

::He walked a bit closer with his arms folded, tapping his chin.::

And if I act different for him, and her, and her, and him, and him, and him...and you...

::And each time he would say "him, or her" he'd point to a blank spot on the plateau poofing into view a very crudely drawn version of a leviathanite. There was a badly drawn Vahn, a badly drawn, Fae, Lucind, Enki, Tomorrow, Ruuvan, and finally he pointed at Sun.::

Which am I? Then who...am I? Am I all? Am I none? But I cant be none because I'm not nothing! And I cant be all of them because I'm me...

::He tapped his chin a bit more while letting out another audible "Hmmmm." The badly drawn people faded away.::

So as for my name...I wouldnt know, I just wouldnt be the person to ask! But I do know who I am. And I...

::He leaned forward ever so slightly as if he was about to share a secret.::

I, Mr. Sunstrike, am me. Who are you?

Sunstrike was seeing swirls by the end of these statements. The apple was cool in his hands and he spun it slowly through his fingers as he tried to keep up with the one-sided conversation going on.

"Erm...merruuu....?" He usually made that sound in confusion, like a cat thats just slightly out of sorts. It was under his breath so hopefully the other man hadn't heard. He flushed in embarassment. It was unusual for Sun to find himself so utterly confused.

He'd recognized the scribbles, and that scared him as well, because none of them had been from the hospital. Things were slowly starting to sink in for him, the last few memories up to a point sewing themselves in, ironically enough, scribbles.

It was just a vauge and childlike image of what his recent past had been like, and there were a lot of gaps, some that he made himself.

"I...more then I used to be..." Flashes of colour in a room of endless white. "But...no less then what I was ever supposed to be." That had been a slight struggle. He was trying too damn hard. "I'm Sun." He ommited the need to ad an "ny-Puff," though the temptation was there. "And you...I remember you."

His eyes widened, as if suddenly knowing the gravity of that, and the apple dropped, if possible he'd grip the edges of the hoodie, not tightly but enough to draw himself forward for a closer look. Sun's night vision had always been crap.

"You're really you? No one else?" This seemed kind of important.