|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 3:56 am
Mumbles and grumbles, Maximos had expected that. He had even kept his scythe in one hand to help stabilize him as the gigantic man stood. But just as soon as everything seemed to be going right...it went wrong.
John shoved him out of the way. Now, while a shove might be nothing from anyone else, a shove from an eight foot tall giant with arms the thickness of basketballs nearly knocked the wind out of him. Max was left with the hand clutching Fenrir's fang pressed to his chest as John plowed straight into the snowbank. He was about to call out his name, but...what was the point? He was gone!
And then there was a boom, something thunderous and huge and Maximos' eyes snapped open wide. By Nocturne, he could have just sent his friend straight into a death trap! The Shadow lurched forward onto the scythe, gritted his teeth, ground his feet and then burst off after John as fast as his legs could carry him. Maximos was something of a black blur, rushing silently through the snow, with only his scythe trailing beside him whistling as it sliced the air.
Max raced up the stairs without even stealing a moment to look at the severed pillar from his last visit. He rushed straight up and in, and then came to an immediate halt just inside the doorway. All of his instincts told he to stop. Something here was very wrong.
It was quiet, too quiet. And while John was alive, he was practically gasping. That was, Max believed, the very opposite of the restoration of strength that Thor promised and yet...other details pulled his attention away. Bones which seemed too fresh. Blood which appeared too red. A brazier that still burned...something was living here. It did not take him very long to guess who, she came to them just outside these very ruined doors. But why here?
The murals carried strange depictions. Thor fighting his arch nemesis Jormungandr. He wondered if Hymir would have cut the rope if he knew what the sea serpent would do later. Another seemed to depict the Thunder God meeting with...a small ugly black man? It must have been Surtr, though somehow he imagined the eldjötunn swordsmen would have been...bigger. Last, seemed to be a picture of Jormungandr trapped beneath Yggdrasil, the World Tree. They were beautiful really, and likely older than anything Maximos ever knew and yet...as the Shadow took in the snake coiled around the trees roots he could not help but notice it.
Would he have bothered with a pillar if he had know the real thing was just a few feet farther inside? Probably not. But it was too late for any of that sort of thinking. If anything was going to get Johnathan back his power, that hammer was it.
And so, foolishly, Maximos crossed over to it. He reached out his right hand, knowing it to be the more durable of the two, and the paused, muttering just under his breath. "It cant be this easy..."
And then in a movement he would most likely regret, he tried to pick it up.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 4:38 am
Of course it wasn't that easy. Maximos lack of Norse mythos notwithstanding, he knew what sat harmlessly in front of him...but the enormity of it. The power of this weapon. Could anybody truely fathom it? Even the weilder himself? The power to crack the world. The power to tear reality itself.
As it was, Maximos would move to grasp it, his hand curling around the hilt. The leather was warm to the touch, as if it had only recently been placed down, and when he tried to pull it up....
Nothing.
He could tug. He could strain. He could grasp it with both hands and pull with all his might, pull with his both his arms and push with his feet. He could summon all the shadows in the room, in the world, and command them to move the weapon. But the weapon was immovable. It was like the thing was glued to the floor in front of the door by some type of universal adhesive. He wouldn't even be able to drag it over to John.
Behind him, John would finally stir, raising his hand to his head and moaning a little as the mere movement made red light blossom in his eyes. "Odin's eye....not a smart move..." He muttered weakly, somehow managing to roll over onto his back, panting from the effort, before lifting up into a sitting poistion, feeling utterly exhausted as he managed to force his body to it's feet.
Stumbling over to Maximos, seeing him tug at the hammer on the ground, John shook his head at the man and laid a hand on his shoulder. "We don't have time for games, Max..." He muttered, rubbing his head some more, having to bend over as he wheezed in pain.
He couldn't open the door with Max in the way. By the look of it, the door swung outward....and the hammer was barring the way. And Max was playing with it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 2:42 pm
Maximos didnt really try for that long, or try that hard. He wrapped his hand around it, pulled and...immediately found it bolted to the ground and unwilling to move. Granted, his scythe could have cut open a hole in space and time between here and John beneath the hammer, or a plethora of other fancy tricks. But why? It was so much easier to just bring the unconscious John to it.
He released the hammer, and spun around to find...John, working his way to his feet onto his back, and then eventually to his feet. Now, traditionally Tomorrow was right. Trying to grab Moljinir could have had a thousand bad endings, the least of which was being electrocuted. But Max was willing to take the risk to help. He most certainly was not playing games.
Of course, he didnt let the offense show. Max bowed his head and said. "No your right, we certainly dont."
The Shadow stepped aside and held out a hand to the hammer, like a man holding open a door for a woman. He looked like the epitome of apology, though he most definitely did not sound like it when he said. "But we have time for naps, dont we John? Oh look, a lovely deer pelt, perhaps I should call Walter and fetch us some tea and pillows!"
An arm weakly gestured for the door with the butt of his scythe. "If your awake enough to complain, just open the damn thing."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 3:39 pm
John looked up at Maximos with tired increduality - just whose head was about to explode here? Irregardless, the man looked stressed, to say the least and, despite feeling like he had just literally run through a mountain, John grunted a small laugh as he eased past Maximos. "Aye, maybe he can braid our hair too..." He said with a forced grin as he stooped down, curling his hand around the hammer's haft...
...And picked it up, standing upright with the thing in his hand. He looked down at it for a moment - it was a good size, the heft was nice, and it felt good in his hand....but this was no time for weapon-hawking, and he tossed it over his shoulder without a second thought, shaking his head at Maximos disappointedly as the hammer crashed to the ground behind him. His brother needed to stop playing games with him...
Grasping the handle of the door, he began to pull but found himself too exhausted to move it more then a few inches by himself. "G-give me a hand here..." He muttered.
When the both of them finally had the door open, it would reveal...a hallway. Nothing too special about it - it was a simple stone hall, possibly hewn out of the rock, nothing special about the walls themselves. John sighed sadly, leaning against the door - more walking. No time to worry, however - the flame of focus burned in his eyes, and he set off down the hall at a steady, if a little woozy, pace, leaving the hammer in the antechamber behind them...
The hall seemed to turn and weave as they went deeper and deeper into the mountain. Torches hung on the walls burning brightly, though there was no way anybody could have lit them before they had entered - dust and spiderwebs layered the walls and floors, making it obvious the hall had not been walked for many, many years. As they went deeper, the biting cold of Guldor slowly melted away to be replaced by a gentle warmth. The hall twisted and turned like a snake with a broken back, but eventually they came to another door, this one made of stone also, duel doors with a small latch on the hallside of the handles. John pulled the latch open wih a grunt, before putting his shoulder to the nearest door - and pushing, the door swinging open with a heavy groan...
To reveal a massive chamber, a cave which seemed to extend out expansively. Torches littered the walls and roof, all burning merrily, and in the center sat a gigantic tree.
It's leaves were lush and green, flat and wide in a shallow shape, the trunk thick and a rich brown. Yellow fruits hung from the branches in heavy clumps, piles having dropped around the roots of the tree....which were growing, gnarled and curling, through the bones of what appeared to be a snake.
It's body seemed to take up the entire room, coiled around and around. It's body once was the thickness of a frieght train, its scaley skin still hanging in tattered clumps upon the ground and over the jagged spine. Next to the door, John turned his head and looked up at the wide maw of it's skull, which sat next to the doorway. His face paled as he realised what it was, and looked up at the gaping maw, saw the jagged rows of teeth, two of which still dripped green liquid, the phosphrestent liquid oozing forth from needle-p***k tips...
John's eyes glazed over for a moment, before his hand snatched out in a sudden movement, ripping one of the dripping teeth free from the skull with a siickening crack. He looked at it for a moment, as if contemplating it immensely - before holding it out to Maximos, his voice grave.
"The natural way."
Then he shook his head, blinking hard, as he walked past Maximos and further into the gigantic chamber...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 03, 2011 5:00 pm
Any annoyance, even semblance of light-hearted jest on Maximos' face was absolutely gone as John lift his hammer. There wasnt any real surprise in the fact that the Aesir could get it off the ground, it seemed meant to be. What shocked Maximos, what left the Shadow with his eyes wide open and staring as if the sky had turned purple and the moon had fallen into the sea, was that after a moment without seemingly any concern, Tomorrow just threw it away.
And it didnt shatter the ground, it did not shake the world, it just fell away like so much refuse and sat. Max's eyes snapped from John to the hammer, to John, back to the hammer, back and forth absolutely confused as to what to make of this before John broke him from his reverie by asking for help.
This broke him from said confused contemplation not because he needed to help, because Tomorrow still hadnt regained his strong. Maximos had been absolutely wrong, in every way. And that was a rather rare thing. He shook his head, rubbing his temple with one hand and said. "Yes, of course."
He slipped Fenrir's fang into his belt at his back where he normally kept his dagger and ran up to help John tug, calling on shadows were need be to hold his feet and feed his strength. It was funny, Maximos was almost entirely sure this was the first time the two of them had ever worked together on something. He felt sort of proud. Hearing John sigh he reached out a hand and patted the other man's shoulder in silent encouragement.
It was funny, for all the complains, for all the difficult here, and the stigma of his best friends death hovering over his head next to a possible encounter with the All-Father, this was almost...enjoyable. He was walking down a long spiraling hallway with a friend, on an adventure of sorts. A ancient hall, mysterious signs of recent activity. Fenrir couldnt have lit these, he couldnt have moved the hammer. They just never had times like this...and they never might again. It was sort of like crawling into the belly of a gigantic snake...and then, another set of doors...without being asked, Max jogged forward and placed both his hands on the latch, offering to open it so John could push open the door.
And then...a tree? Fruits littered the ground, and Max found himself wishing they could just wait. Pause to snack and enjoy a quiet moment before it all went to Hel. He wondered if John was thinking the same thing. There was a vicious crack. He took a deep breath and said, "Listen, John maybe we could just--"
He stopped mid-sentence as John said,"The natural way."
And handed him another fang. It was really hard to tell when color drained out of the Shadow's face. But it didnt take long to figure out the details he had missed. The large skull now visible as John moved forward into the chamber, the green dripping down the syringe-like fangs and onto the ground with a splat.
Of course, the world tree. And that meant this was the great sea serpent. And John...
...Had just handed him the key to his demise, within the same hour he had handed him the key to his father's demise. The Shadow immediately looked to the thunder god, his lips moving slowly and steadily counting each one of the man's weary steps. When he reached nine, Max's grip on the fang tightened. By ten, let out a sigh of relief and ran up beside his friend further into the chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 04, 2011 2:14 am
John had smiled down to Maximos bravely when his brother had laid his hand upon his shoulder. It was an brave yet hollow smile. The type you flash to someone when the two of you know it would do little, yet you did it anyways, because you had nothing left to give. And now thats how John felt. The effort of rushing into the temple and opening the doors, not to mention the immense walk down into the bowels of the hill, endless steps down endless corridors, winding and weaving, moving on and on... His feet were dragging. His arm hung heavy by his side. His head drooped, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open as he panted from the exhertion of walking. His head felt like it was on fire, like it was literally about to explode - but Maximos' words burned hotter, the feeling in his heart stabbing deep into him. He must move on. He must move on. He must move on... Ducking his head low, he walked under the bones of Jormungandr, lifting his arm heavily to bat away a bit of snake's scales, the scales sloughing off the bones to land on the ground, puffs of ancient dust billowing from the skin. He had to slide and push his way through the bones, the effort to keep moving becoming harder and harder... Until he finally reached the tree in the center. The massive canopy was now looking over him, and he raised his eyes to look up at it. The leaves were so green it was almost magical, and now he could see that the apples were not yellow, but a shining gold. They fell constantly, the only noise in the great room being the soft thud of the fruits falling from the tree, and the crackle of the torches. He had to be careful where he dragged his feet - the ground was covered in freshly fallen and rotten fruit. He knew if he slipped, he would not get up. So he chose his footfalls carefully, picking his feet up to gingerly place them down, inching across the ground...until, finally, he reached the trunk, the gnarled roots spreading out into the granite floor, digging through the hard rock like they were putty. He was almost gasping for breath, his pants were so heavy. As he reached the trunk he tripped on a root, stumbling forward to slam into the wood, his hand only just catching him as he leant against the tree, doubling over as his brain bounced around on a bed of white hot nails in his head, apples raining out of the branch above him to fall around him, bouncing and dottering the floor, rolling away like golden sparkles. He couldn't do it. He could not go on. He was done. He let out a defeated sob as he turned his back to the trunk, sliding down the wood until he was sitting amongst the fruits surrounding them. He leant his head against the trunk of the tree, the wood feeling warm on his hair and skin, and closed his bloodshot eyes. He tried to picture Hono'o's face, her soft skin, her full lips, her ember eyes... He opened his eyes and looked out to Maximos. His brother. His friend. His comrade. His executioner. Could he have a better man by his side at this time? John could think of no other. No one had been so true as Maximos. No one would have followed him so far, without question, without want or need. He saw the pale expression on his brother's face, and knew he was dreading what was to come. If John was in his position, he would be the same. Maximos, however, carried his burden silently, and with honour... John would stamp his feet, curse the world and all its inhabitants, and fight Death itself before it claimed his brother. Opposites till the end, as always. Maximos knew what had to be done. John refused it. It was what they were. It was what made them unique. He raised his arm slowly to point to the place beside him, smiling up at his brother. This smile was not hollow - it was warm, friendly, without pain. It was time, it seemed. It was not how he thought he would go. It was not how he wanted to go. But it was the best fate had to offer....so he would take it openly. When Maximos had sat beside him, John would place his hand upon his brother's and give it a weak squeeze, trying to reassure him. "...You know what I'm...going to do when...this is all done...' John whispered to Maximos, his lies so quiet between his gasps he may as well not be speaking at all. "...I'm going....to give Hono'o...a big...warm hug....then...play with my children...and then....heh, teach, heh, teach you how to boil wat - ARGH!"His reverie was interuppted as a golden apple fell out of the tree to bounce off his head with a hollow 'BOP', the fruit falling into his lap as he released Maxi's hand to clutch his temple. The sudden flare of pain made him feel like picking up the fruit and throwing it across the room, but as the initial pang subsided somewhat, he lowered his hand to pick up the fruit, looking it over in his hand. The thing looked quite bizarre - it was clearly made of gold, even the stem, yet it had the texture and yeild of a real apple. Disturbingly, John knew he had never seen such a fruit before - yet he felt familiar with it, like he had eaten them before and they were his absolute favorite. There was an old story that John was suddenly reminded of. A man is chased off a cliff by a pack of tigers. He falls a few feet, and grabs onto a root growing out of the cliff face, hanging on for dear life. He would not survive the fall. The tigers growled down at him, the yawning chasm beckoned him, and as he looked around, trying to figure out how to survive, he notices a strawberry bush growing within easy reach by his side, packed full of plump strawberries. What did the man do? John had tried to figure out what the man would do, knowing from the construct of the riddle that it had something to do with the strawberry bush. Distract the tigers with the strawberries? Jump to the strawberry bush and hope for another avenue? The answer had surprised and shocked him. The man ate the strawberries. In a time when death was imminant, it was better to die with even slight enjoyment then pass on the oppertunity. So, what the hell? John looked to Maximos and raised his apple to him, as if toasting him. "...This one's for you, brother."Then he weakly lifted the fruit to his lips and bit into it. The first thing he noticed was the taste. It was the sweetest fruit he'd ever tasted. Ever. The thing was delicious, like an apple crossed with a pear merged with a watermelon times infinity. It's flesh was tender and juicy, the color of the rising sun, the juice running down his chin as he bit into it again, almost voraciously. The second thing was the smell - it was something out of his wildest dreams - for some reason, it reminded him of Hono'o, when he had just woken up and rolled over to smell her hair as she slept, that natural scent that caused his eyes to flutter and his heart to swell. Chewing the fruit for only a few chews, he soon had the thing down to the core, his hand and his face sticky with it's insides - before he even bit the core in half, exposing the seeds within, which seemed to sparkle like diamonds when the light hit them right - before he popped the rest into his mouth, letting his head rest against the trunk of the tree as he let out a long, slow breath of satisfaction. He had enjoyed that. Now it was time to let go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2011 2:23 am
No. No. NO! It was all going to fast now. John was barely moving, inching and shuffling out his final few steps while his breath set a slow and heavy cadence. And yet, no matter how slow they were moving the inescapable feeling of rushing toward an inevitable end seem to overwhelm Maximos. It crashed against him and tossed him about like a tidal wave smashing into the short and rolling and tumbling in white foam. It squeezed him on all sides like a box he simply could not escape. He had been to this line so many times with Johnathan Tomorrow, more than he had with anyone else. How many times had he threatened his life? How many times had he held a weapon to his neck? And yet as real as those times were, the weight of what would surely come after such a killing stroke never really, truly occurred to him. It was like some sort of magical unicorn fantasy land that didnt really exist. John would never die.
And here they were, the instrument of his destruction making a pitter patter of neon green in their wake as it rest in Maximos' tightly clenched fist. He watched John all but fall against the tree and slide down, destined it seemed to never stand again. He felt his heart lurch inside his chest and fall similarly to the ground.
Maximos...had no choice. He had no fight. Those were the terms of the arrangement. If he faltered, he would be killed, and someone else would do the job. He couldnt allow that, not for this man. Tomm deserved better. And then, as Maximos stood watching amidst a pile half rotted and freshly fallen golden fruit, John smiled up at him. The sight almost made the Shadow want to turn the fang on himself. There was no pain in John's smile. Max imagined, it was because pain was for the living and Tomorrow would not be amongst them much longer. He stepped forward, sliding into the spot beside John. He rest his scythe against the tree beside him, brandishing only the fang, and pulled back his hood.
John's hand found his, dwarfing it entirely, much as the comforting squeeze the Aesir gave was dwarfed entirely by the idea of his death. But Maximos refused to falter, refused to cry out, or whine. He had exacted the pain and loss of death on so many, this was only fair. Instead, he smiled back and nodded.
"...You know what I'm...going to do when...this is all done..." John whispered to Maximos, barely audible save for the silence of death in these halls. The Shadow forced a small laugh out, that sounded very much like the choked beginning of a cry and said. "What?"
"...I'm going....to give Hono'o...a big...warm hug....then...play with my children...and then....heh, teach, heh, teach you how to boil wat - ARGH!"
"John!" Max exclaimed only to see the golden apple roll off his head and into his lap. He felt like a fool. And then, for a moment, with his toast and fervent appetite, Max could pretend that everything was going to be alright. John was healthy, and hungry, and...letting go. Slipping away. But that was probably the best tasting fruit he had ever had. And he toasted that last blissful moment to the man who would steal the rest of his moments away. The tragedy of it burned to even think about.
All the once proud Shadow could bring himself to do was look at his friend, and watch as it all came to an end. He spun the great serpents fang in his hand so that its tip pointed straight down, prepared for a clean stab. His breaths grew ragged and short, broken apart with the silent sobs, tears.
"After this..." Max said, just barely above a whisper as he stood up and moved to face his friend. He leaned over and set his eyes even with the other man's eyes. His stabbing arm, even with John's heart. "...lets go back to that beach...okay?"
He wiped blurry wetness from his eyes with his sleeve. Skewed vision would make the strike flawed, or perhaps even make it miss. John would pay the price in pain, but one solid poisoned strike to the heart should do it. Max cocked his arm back, and whispered. "...Okay."
And then swung.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2011 4:18 am
To be caught. Caught by a hand. Quick like the strike of a snake, it had lashed out at the last second to grasp Maximo's wrist, halting the tip of the poisoned fang a mere inch from penetration, it's green phosperent poison dripping harmlessly down his skin... But it was not just anybody's hand. It was John's hand. And yet, at the same time...it wasn't. At least, not the John Maximos was used to. Not the massive paw which enveloped men's heads and crushed solid stone like dry clay. No, this was a hand that Maximos might have remembered many, many years ago....the hand of a plucky young martial artist with a cheeky smile and a power that could destroy a city. Looking up from the hand, Maximos would see John's body changing before his eyes. His skin had grown tighter around his muscles, which had begun to shrink like someone was releasing the air from within. The scars which criss-crossed his arms and neck and chest were slowly faded, filling out with fresh, clean, new skin, which looked like it had just been newly bronzed by the sun. His hair, which had hung limp around his face, wet from the snow, was now full, dry, and had its golden luster back. His face was even tighter, his appearance becoming more youthful and vibrant, color coming back to his cheeks as the faded scars disappeared from around his face. The head would slowly rise, the eyes remaining closed as the transformation came to it's conclusion, the golden hair falling loosely on either side of his face, which was serene, as if listening to beautiful music. The muscles in his chest and arms were taut and firm, the body of a warrior born, lithe like a jungle cat. There was no hint of the immense bulk that John had, mere moments before, carried with him - his pants hung limp around his legs, his boots more empty, the wolfskin cloak hanging off him like a great bear blanket - he'd lost some height as well as girth, it seemed.... As the bare chest rose, filling with a gigantic lungful of air as if for the first time ever, the man's eyes would open and Maximos would see the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, blue like the Antarctic sky, and as they focused on Maximos' mis-matched white and black gaze, Maximos would see static within them, snapping and jumping from within the very center of the cornea to roll out over the blue iris and into the clear whites behind his eyelids. His lips parted, and he spoke. His voice was nowhere near as rebounding as before, but it was deep, like distant thunder rolling over ancient plains. "...I can see clearly now."He blinked once, looking over the room as if seeing for the first time. His eyes, filled with static, focused and unfocused on things here and there, testing their limits. He looked back to Maximos and blinked, his eyes wide. "....I've never heard your heart beat so fast before..."They were close, but not so close he could have heard his heart beating. But before Max could push the subject, those static blue eyes flickered shut as he inhaled some sort of intoxicating aroma. "By the gods....what is that smell....it smells like Hono'o when she's been sunbaking..." He breathed wistfully, looking down at the hand clutching Maximos' wrist, still sticky from the juice of the apple.... ....The apple. All of a sudden, everything clicked into place. John's eyes went wide as he pushed the fang of Jormungandur away from him and pushed himself to his feet gingerly, ganthering up the front of his pants to protect his modesty as he did, looking down at his body. He was smaller now....more lithe, more athletic, yet still retaining the bulk and strength of an Asgardian warrior...he looked up to Maximos with wide eyes as he let out a laugh. "The apples, brother! The apples!"This was not, as Maximos guessed, Yggdrasil the World Tree. This was a tree of Idunn, the Keeper of the Golden Apples of Immortality, which the gods consumed to keep their youth and vigor. By consuming the apple, John had unwittingly - or perhaps fatefully - turned back the clock on his body. Rewinding it to a time when he was more youthful, more energetic....more healthy. Just like that, he had been cured. By eating fruit. From the gods or not...fruit. Modesty flung far, John threw himself at his brother, putting his arm over his shoulder and holding him close, tears welling in his static-filled eyes. "Oh Gods, I'm sorry Max....I'm so sorry I put you through all that..." He moaned into the other man's shoulder. "You're a true friend, a true friend...."His entire body seemed to tense up then. Maximos would hear the gasp as it hung in his throat, and John would pull back with eyes wide open to lean against the tree. "....No...""Yes." It was a regal voice, that contained power so immense it would make the very skin on their bodies shiver with each and every syllable. Maximos would turn to see a hooded man standing in the opening before them. He was an old man of fifty, with a grey beard and long grey hair peeking out of the brown hood covering his face, a single silver light staring out from within the hood with utter penetration at the two. His long flowing brown robes covered a body of a man who clearly held immense strength in his shoulders, chest and arms - in his right hand, he held a long staff which was as tall as he. In his left, tucked in the crook of his arm, was a shining silver helm, with a point on the end and many serrated edges coming from the sides, as if the wings of feathers. There was a smile on the lips of the old man, evident as he shifted his weight, allowing the light to penetrate within the hood. "Welcome back, my son."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2011 2:06 pm
Maximos did not openly react in any way save to show literally no reaction.
There were too many variables here, too many things that are or could be to settle into any sort of trust or comfort in all of this. His senses were firing off lightning fast, picking up a thousand and one tiny details. In a moment he counted how many apples were covering the floor, their size and approximate, how many ribs were exposed and viable for usage on the skeleton of the gigantic snake and how many footsteps it would take to get to any number of them immediately compared to how strong the arm grabbing him currently was.
John had grabbed his hand, and he knew it. He recognized the hand immediately, but Maximos was still trying to stab. This could not be. Time changes people, they age and differ. You do not magically return to your form years earlier, unless its a trick. The tension in his grasp, and solid lock of his mismatched eyes did not falter until John said Raven's name.
He remembered. Looks aside, he was still the same man. His arm went limp at his side. Like air gushing out of a balloon Maximos seemed to deflate, the steel in his eyes turned to watery putty. Apples, apples, he did not care. All that mattered was that his brother was back. It was over..it was really over. John was embracing him, tears in his eyes...and...
Maximos could not bring himself to hug back. His arms were pinned loose down at his side, and some ice cold chill raced up his spine and across his body. In the wake of everything that had passed, Maximos found himself left with one singular emotion.
Rage. He had been toyed with. His emotions played with. His brother pushed to follow this terribly macabre and horrible dance for the sake of...what?! They had no respect! No interest anything but their own power, and Maximos was possessed of the rage of a man who had long since quit being the tool of selfish gods and embraced war against them.
All Maximos heard was a voice that said, "Yes."
Maximos placed a hand at his back, and just looked at the man. And then in a deadly soft tone he said, "Say the word brother, and we can end him."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2011 10:03 pm
Maximos He remembered. Looks aside, he was still the same man. His arm went limp at his side. Like air gushing out of a balloon Maximos seemed to deflate, the steel in his eyes turned to watery putty. Apples, apples, he did not care. All that mattered was that his brother was back. It was over..it was really over. John was embracing him, tears in his eyes...and... " You know this would likely be easier if you learned to relax a little reaper! Wow... I haven't seen this place in forever.." The comment was like a tickle at the back of your mind, words so soft you weren't even sure that you actualy heard them and didn't just think them too hard. Maximos Rage. He had been toyed with. His emotions played with. His brother pushed to follow this terribly macabre and horrible dance for the sake of...what?! They had no respect! No interest anything but their own power, and Maximos was possessed of the rage of a man who had long since quit being the tool of selfish gods and embraced war against them. All Maximos heard was a voice that said, " Yes." " Really.. just calm down a bit now.. count with me as we do the breathing exercises and think Zen thoughts.. einn, tveir, thrír, fjórir, fimm, sex, sjau, átta, níu, tíu." Stronger this time... defiantly not imagined, but no one was there except the Old man, and this voice had a feminine feel to it. Maximos Maximos placed a hand at his back, and just looked at the man. And then in a deadly soft tone he said, " Say the word brother, and we can end him." " Now why would you want to do that?" A misty white slippered foot moved as if to tap at a golden apple close to Maximos' foot... the slipper was actually attached to a leg and the rest of a female form that was gowned in white and gold, a white blindfold covering the eyes for a shapely woman with golden hair that fell straight to just past her shoulders. " For that matter, why would he want to do that?" The woman smiled, a sweet sort of smile.. The sort of smile that the old woman had worn as she offered Snow White an apple from her basket Such a sweet child, a sweet for the sweet child... come now pretty child, have a pretty apple from old Granny.... " He isn't hurting your friend.. in fact, if it wasn't for his father, that man would not have found the one thing that could truly heal him! Is that the sort of boon that deserves death for a repayment?" She was becoming slowly more solid as she spoke... until that foot could tap the apple enough that she bent to pick it up in a white gloved hand, the golden sash she wore moving around her as if stirred by an invisible breeze than managed to make all the individual threads move in different directions.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 10, 2011 4:47 pm
One of the first rules to remember in trying to get anyone who is enraged, especially to the point of murder, even moreso if they are a trained killer, is never to tell them to relax. The averaged angered man will snap into violence and gods can only tell the stories in which Hell itself was proven to have as much fire as a cool glass of water when compared to women who had been told to calm down.
It may have been a testament to what little bits of self control hung to the edges of Maximos' consciousness. It may have been because she appeared first as a voice in the back of his mind and was ergo ignored until she started counting in a norse tongue. But Maximos somehow did not immediate rip his scythe through her visage.
Maximos' anger, as always, burned cold. It was an icy efficiency that really only served to burn away emotional disturbances which caused hesitation or foolishness in the face of what needed to be done. Maximos lips were pressed in a flat line, one of specter his mismatched eyes shone with a soft white light and yet they carried no real spark or life. The Shadow just started at the old man, never once turning his head, and not even as much as blinking in response to the specter as she spoke.
Her words were so sweet. Spoken in gently pretty tones, like the fantastic emerald sort of hue the poison that dripped from the tip of serpents fang. Maximos imagined her words to be exactly as healthy for him. Infact, just hearing it made him sick. And then she bent over to pick up the apple, and Maximos quietly spoke.
"His own son went through extraneous lengths to assure his father did not return." His hand, previously on its path to his pack stopped and fell down by his side just short of grabbing Fenrir's fang. "And gave me the weapon, to kill this god."
"And I will. As surely as I was about to kill my own brother. I will kill him, and you, and any and everyone who would stand in my way." Max did not speak as if this was a threat. His voice carried doubtless absolution, like death itself.
"That, Verðandi..." He said, yes he knew her name. Not only had fought beside her and an avatar or friend of hers during the zombie attack on Barton but she had rudely appeared in his house while he was trying to get Raven's memory back. He remembered her, he remembered exactly what she wanted most. "...Is what it means to have a duty, to sacrifice and lose, to have a purpose larger than yourselves. You toy with others, you play with mortal lives, you speak with honeyed words. Your kind dont know of a single thing larger than your own lives or your own power. One boon does not outweigh a millenia long lifetime of crimes."
Maximos might as well have been talking about the weather for all the ferocity with which he spoke. His voice was empty. His face still, his eyes never left the old man. There was no anger, just fact. He flipped his scythe from to the hand closest to the woman in white. These gods and immortals just never seemed to learn that Maximos did not care. Their powers did not leave him awestruck or in reverence. Their ages did not translate to power levels. The thunder in their voice was unnecessary racket, and their cries of innocence were only guilty of wasting his time. Not a one of them had stood the test of battle. They were not people, no matter how comely the shape they took. People had potential. People birthed them. They were nothing more than the representations of old human weakness. Superpowers born when man stared at the sun and though it was a magic being pushing a burning disc across the sky. Pathetic, old lies. Who had become obsessed with themselves, just as the sheep who revered them. And. They. All. Died. The. Same.
This was who he was, who he would always be. Mortal and proud of it, until his last breath, or until the last of them fell.
"If you cannot under that, Witch," And he swung the scythe, but not as an attack. It was moved in a wide waving motion meant to shove the blunt back of the blade against her chest and move her back a step or two as he said, "Then get thee behind me satan. I'm working."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 10, 2011 8:03 pm
Ah and there was another good old saying... Hell Hath No Furry, Like a Woman Scorned....If Maximos could have seen the eyes under the blindfold he might have wanted to rethink his decission to cling to his own rage.
"No... no, you do not get to to lecture Me about duty... I have been bound by this duty for centuries now!" The woman raised her arm to point at the scythe as he moved as if to push her away with that weapon, the golden threads of the strange sash winding around her arm and tugging at her so she had to fight just to point angrily at the tall man. "Yes I am guilty of playing games at times, little games that do no lasting harm... but when you are bound by the beliefs of humans, to be contrary and unpredictable and a nattering b***h on occasion... you try to make the unending days a little less tedious."
She side stepped the Scythe at the last moment, not wanting the weapon to touch her... but she wasn't willing to be behind him as he went for the first ray of hope she had seen in a hundred years. "but, what purpose could be larger than making sure that your brother survives this meeting? How do you know that making sure that you don't kill this brother of yours today is not what the universe intended when it gave me these powers in the first place?" She stepped on the remains of a half rotten golden apple and wobbled for a moment as she tried to catch her balance again, dropping the apple she had picked up.... blind, the ground around the tree was an apple littered mine field for the woman in white.
"You should be careful about laying blame for past crimes Maximos... since you have committed quite a few of those yourself! Who gave you this mission reaper, who among your ranks told you that the old man and I were at our limit of crimes.... or have you now become Judge and Jury... as well as Executioner? Mr. Tomorrow brought you here to aid him, not to end him in truth... and you know it as well as I do!" She managed to steady herself with a frown of concentration, and another step forwards and slightly back towards him as if to regain the distance the side step had cost her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 3:22 am
Not many things could chip at those cold mismatched eyes. Maximos stared forward, never once breaking eye contact. His body might as well have been a black clad statue of Gentleman Death on display in a museum. Her words seemingly fell on deaf ears.
That was, until she finished, and the impossible happened.
Maximos laughed. A small grouping of 'Ha ha's at best, but a laugh none the less.
"You make your life sound so long, and so tedious. I can fix that for you. Nothing will trouble you, ever again." He shook his head, again, never even blinking a moment away from the elderly man and his brother by proxy as he continued.
"I dont remember opening my motives or actions up for discussion. I said I would kill anyone to stand in my way. Is that somehow unclear?" Maximos said, in full knowledge that John was in earshot. And fully expecting that if Tomorrow did not already know this fact, he was a fool. While simultaneously wondering why he wasnt saying or doing anything.
"Do you think I would stop for him? Did you not see me about to kill him with the fang he gave me?" He laughed again, something a bit more mocking than the last. Again, never looking away. He had perfect view of his brother, and the old man who seemed remarkably, if not suspiciously still despite all this talking. "Oh thats right. I dont imagine you see much of anything past your desperation."
"Thor judged him, when he gave me this fang. Or did you not hear that I left the decision up to him? No, none of that matters." He never looked at her, but he leveled the scythe even with his hips a deft motion of his arm could turn it into a crooked swing directly at and likely through her. She was right to avoid it, just touching it had certain malicious effects for her kind. The laughter, surface deep as it was, washed off leaving Maximos' voice here at the end of this discussion just as cold as it was when it began. "I'm an affront to your divine majesty and purpose. I'm the villain, Godslayer, because I carry this, right?"
What did she expect? He would feel the need to justify and explain himself to someone he barely knew? Unlikely. Instead, Max clapped his hands together. This would seem impossible considering the scythe was in his hands, but as the two gloved palms smacked together it proved to be gone. Vanished as immediately as it always seemed to appear. With his hands free, the Shadow looked Verðandi square in the eyes. Anyone who thought he was blind just because he was not looking, was equally a fool. He could not see her eyes through the blindfold, but the eyes were the windows to the soul and as he could see souls, he knew where to find the windows. And then he said. "You know so much about it, about me? Here."
And then unsanctimoniously he tossed both the needle sharp dripping fang of Jormugandr, and the yellowish gray fang of Fenrir directly to Verðandi. Not at, too. They were soft underhanded tosses so that she could catch them, or at least feel them impact her harmlessly and fumble for them before they fell. "You be the Reaper. You do what's right. Let your worth be proved by your actions, not your words."
And with that, Max took a step back, practically putting him against the tree as Tomorrow had not exactly ran a marathon after reincarnating. He slumped his back against the trunk, and then sat on a long gnarled root. Almost carefree, Maximos held out his hand to catch an apple knocked free by the vibration of his slumping against the trunk and then...
...decided against biting it. He didnt want to be himself from several years ago. This sort of thing would probably sell for alot more in his shop. He could market slices, sauce, juice, and then seeds for months and maybe years. Not to mention the benefits of outsourcing the product to smaller spas and shops!
"Go on." He said, looking up the witch in question. And making a sort of shooing motion with his hand. His faced beamed a smile as bright as any and twice as false. "I'll watch in awe, like a good mortal."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 5:44 am
((Editted to contain hopes to resolving this))
All throughout Verðandi bitter exchanges, the All-Father and Tomorrow simply stared at each other, as if they were miles away, trying to search for something more. John's crackling eyes met a shining silver dot, and he found himself unable to look away, unable to avoid the pierce of the light, which slipped through his meat exterior and stabbed straight to his soul, slicing it to pieces, cutting it away. Like a single star left within the night's sky, John's sight was drawn to it, and then, almost instantaneously, lost in it.
Something happened then. He felt himself being pulled away, his sight remaining on the old man's eye yet the world seeming to pull back, as if he was being dragged back into his own body. Everything became light, as if he was floating through space, and then suddenly he felt nothing as his eyes closed, drawing in an automatic breath...
....And when the breath was exhaled, Tomorrow opened his eyes, the lightening still flashing deep within them...
But....it was no longer Tomorrow. Tomorrow was gone once more.
Thor stood behind Maximos.
It was round about this time that Maximos was talking, rather coldly, about duty and sacrifice. About gods toying with mortals lives. How they could not look past their own hubris. The man used a rather broad brush to label all gods arrogant and selfish. It was with infinite sadness that Thor knew that he would only prove him right. He looked from the back of Maximos' head to Odin, from the man protecting and defending his bloodkin to his own father. The All-Father caught his gaze and smiled a small smile which made Thor's blood chill.
Then Maximos made his move against the Fate, and Odin leveled his gaze to the Godslayer, that starlight scrutiny seeming to condemn the man's actions with that simple move.
Thor's breath caught in his throat. He began to shake his head, as if trying to stop the thought from entering his mind - but it was too late. It was in there....and he could no longer fight it then if he could fight Odin himself. The All-Father was the father of them all. He was born by the universe, and baptised by all the elements. He held the supreme power of the Runes, founded by himself when he sacrificed himself to himself.
To fight the will of Odin was to lose. All of Asgard knew this. And so Thor yielded.
His desolate face slowly melted into one of dejected apathy as he leveled his eyes back to Maximos, preparing himself to strike out at the Godslayer as his back was turned....
...And then Maximos did something that made Thor's heart sink so low it felt like it would never rise again. He threw the fangs away.
Thor had given him the tools because he knew this mortal man would be the one to defeat Odin. John could not do it, not by himself - he did not have the skill, nor the willpower. It took a man of great will to destroy everything in his path to acheive his objective. Tomorrow was not that man. Not in this instance. And Thor was unable to....even now, under Odin's watchful glare, he was powerless to resist his father's silent bidding. All he wanted to do was leap for those fangs, to catch Fenrir's and fulfill the death-path chosen for his Father by the fates...
But it was not to be.
In less then the blink of an eye, Odin was before Verandi, and in his hands were the fangs. He sighed heavily as he crushed them both to pieces, the fang of Jormungander popping with neon green wetness in his hand, before his staff reappeared in his left hand and the helm in the right, his staff piercing a fruit as he regarded Maximos with a small smirk. "Such trinkets should not be left in the hands of Fate."
What now? Maximos knew what was going to happen - the end of the world. So he had to kill one of these two men. But the only way to kill them both was with his scythe. Not a natural death. Not the death the Universe decreed them.
Could he destroy Odin? No, not by himself. He was the All-Father, the King of Kings, the Master of the Universe. He had traded his eye for supreme wisdom, and sacrificed himself for supreme power - anything Maximos threw at him, he could dodge, deflect or counter. He had the power of the universe at his fingertips, the Runes themselves. It would take a vertiable leigon of Reapers to take down the All-Father as he was now. He was not just your garden variety elemental deity. He had as many tricks up his sleeve as Maximos did.
So that left Thor, looking to Maximos with a face of inconsolable betrayl...his bloodkin's brother, the man they had both put their hopes on, had failed the world. "Kill me." He said to Maximos desperately.
Thor would die. John would most certainly die, and all the pity more that he had come this far to falter at the last instance. But, and Thor knew this was the hair's-bredth of hopes, Odin might not know who his next bloodkin would be...or the Godslayer might somehow managed to get to the rest of the bloodkin before Odin could. With Thor and his bloodkin dead, without Thor to lift Mjolnir, Odin could not hope to repair the Bilfrost. Yes, John Tomorrow would die....but wasn't this what he would do in a situation like this anyways? Sacrifice himself? And had Maximos not made it absolutely clear that his life was meaningless compared to his duty?
Kill one to save millions.
Wasn't that the reaper's duty?
"Dont be stupid." Odin growled to Thor, nodding to the sitting Godslayer. "You heard him - he's willing to let us do what has to be done. Call it."
Thor look to Odin, that silver eye glaring at him. He looked back to Maximos despairingly. "KILL ME - "
"CALL IT!"
Lowering his head and closing his eyes, Thor lifted his hand to the ceiling, palm open and pointing up, his fingers splayed....and the room began to tremble as something seemed to come from above, burrowing through the bedrock towards them, apples raining down from the Idunn tree until only the youngest remained on their branches.
It would be there in less then a minute.
***Of course....all was not completely lost. No matter how dire the circumstances, there was always an out.
Thors pants spilling down had exposed him to the three people, not that they would have cared at this moment in time, but it had also revealed something as he stepped out of his now over-sized boots and haughtily kicked the pants aside...
A dagger-shaped fang, protruding slightly from the back of John's pants.
After all, had Thor not taken two canines from the head of Fenrir?
If the Godslayer had failed, Thor had hoped to somehow finish the job, or at least give him another oppertunity. Now this was the last beacon. One last chance.
Thor's eyes swivelled up to look to the Godslayer pointedly, his desperation evident in his eyes as his foot moving slightly so it rested just under the pants as Odin watched the trembling ceiling closely...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
