James stepped lightly along the path, hesitant? anxious? He wasn’t sure which. He was fairly confident he knew what was going to lie ahead. However, with the different way that this had started, he couldn’t be sure. The path glowed lightly leading him along with each step. He noted as he walked that the path behind him completely disappeared. This meant that there was absolutely no turning back, not that the young man had any intention of doing so. He focused on his steps, staying on the straight and narrow path, looking into the distance trying to see what was to come. He knew what was on either side of him… a drop into the abyss. however, he felt the need to look anyway. He did so, seeing exactly what he thought he would. Nothing but pitch black darkness. He was fairly confident he wouldn't be able to fall even if he lost his footing but he had no intention of testing that theory.
A few steps more and it came into view, the platform that James had been expecting to see. The traditional stained glass platform from every game. A pleasantly glowing, familiar sight to say the least. He did not rush, there was no point "There is plenty of time." In most dreams he would not have been sure that was the case as he was normally a very light sleeper and any unexpected noise or any abrupt or hard shift next to him from his wife, Michelle would often be enough to jerk him back into consciousness. However, he had experienced dreams before that would not allow him to be woken up, or for him to force himself awake either. Those were unpleasant back in the days that they had occurred. However, he hadn't one of those in many, many, years.
When he finally stepped off of the narrow path and onto the platform, the image on the floor was able to seen in it's entirety. It was a stained glass mural of himself, just as he looked right now, only angled as if leaning back and his eyes were closed. As if he were sleeping, content and peaceful. James could have spent quite awhile looking at every detail of the mural. His dreams, when he could actually remember dreaming were rarely this vividly detailed. Things were always off, distorted in someway. That was not the case with this dream. All evidence still pointed to this still being a very vivid and deep lucid dream. There was no way it could be anything but.
As James stepped into center of the platform three pedestals appeared holding the ever familiar pedestals that held the sword, shield, and the rod floating gently above them.
Choose one. Discard One.
The omnipresent voice called out. It should have been anticipated. However, it was not and James looked around for the source of the voice not that there was one.
The items on the pedestals, all familiar, all iconic. Each of them resonated with parts of his heart in their own way. However, which one resonated most was a no brainer for him. Without any additional thought James made his way over to the pedestal that held the sword. He stood before it, examining it for a moment. It was a simple design, but elegant in it's simplicity. It was about three feet in the overall length. The leaf shaped blade similar to that of a gladius aside from the wasping at the end near the guard. That sort of blade was primarily used for cutting. However, it could also be used for thrusting too. The golden cross guard was a simple but thick U-shaped guard adorned with a red circle with a mickey head logo in it's center. A detail that he could have done without, but it was not a big deal. The hilt was black with blue criss-crossed strips on it, it was primarily a one-handed grip. However, it was long enough that both hands could fit without too much difficulty for a stronger cut. That left the pommel, also golden with a rounded spike on the end of it. Indeed, this was and would likely always be the weapon for him. Without further hesitation or delay, he reached his hand out to grab it.
The power of the warrior. Invincible courage. A sword of terrible destruction.
The voice caused him to stop once again. He should have anticipated it. Regardless, the omnipresent voice would not deter him from reaching further towards the weapon he sought. Confidently he wrapped his right hand around the black grip and held the sword in his hand.
Is this the power you seek?
"Yes," James replied simply, as he pulled the sword away from the pedestal only to have it shatter into fragments of light.
Your path is set.
Now what will you give up in exchange?
This was always the harder, and would likely always be the harder decision. He found the power that both the shield and the rod held to be useful. So much so that he always had a hard time deciding. However, the choice had to be made. He made his way over to the shield and stood before it, considering it heavily. Defense was important in combat, and the desire to aid his friends and allies, to protect them was always heavily on his mind. He didn't remember word for word what the words were, but they were something to that effect. He shook his head and made his way over to the rod. He had never liked the rod's design, but that wasn't why he often chose to sacrifice it. It never seemed to resonate as well. Sure in his decision he reached towards it to grasp it.
The power of the mystic. Inner strength. A staff of wonder and ruin.
He held the staff firmly in his hands, certain in his decision. Waiting for the voice that he knew would come to ask if that was his final answer to speak.
You give up this power?
"Yes." He affirmed, certain in his decision. This dream was becoming much more than he had anticipated. If it continued he knew what was to come.
Posted: Fri Sep 18, 2015 12:49 pm
[ Joseph | Station of Reflection | Number 13 ]
The path you seek Is incomplete Open this path?
Previously the voice was vague and generic, if heard at all. Now it was clearly audible: a mysterious female voice. The number 13 remains glowing before you as the voice awaits you answer.
[ Joe | Station of Reflection | Number 8 ]
The number eight glows brightly as you near it, and then disappears. A path forms behind it, leading away from the station without ascending or descending.
If you follow this path, you will come across a small platform with a treasure chest in the middle. It has no decorations, and is not lit up. The only light in this area is coming from the Station of Reflection, a little ways behind you. The path to this area remains, and does not disappear; you see no other paths leading off of this small platform.
[ Luna | Station of Reflection | Desert Image ]
The desert image shifts as you look at it, and you become aware that there is a keyhole in the very center of this platform. It's hard to notice, unless you take a few minutes to look, because the size of it is normal door size, small enough to easily be overlooked, especially with all the ripples that appear when you move.
You see another item within the image that was not there a moment ago. It's a cube. _______________________________________________________________
- Describe the cube, if you want. The keyhole is plot related, but the cube will have no impact on the story. I'll reveal it's purpose later. It can be any size, made of any material, made of multiple materials, look like anything, resemble anything.
He didn't flinch this time, but he did look around once again when he heard the voice. And left him scratching his head. What path? And it was incomplete? What did that mean?
Were the numbers leading to paths? Were more 'incomplete'? Or were the others 'complete' paths?
He let out a sigh of frustration. What in the world was he supposed to do, exactly? Change numbers or find out what this one meant?
With a sigh and a small shrug of his shoulders, he said "Sure. Might as well, right?" He was already there, and he didn't know what other 'path' to open. Might as well open up this one and see what happens.
------------------ HP: 82/100 Current Stock:
ᛊ (Sōwilō) [bomb type] x2ᚷ (Geƀō) [bomb type] x1
Current Runes:
ᚷ (Geƀō) [body type] x1
Posted: Fri Sep 18, 2015 1:58 pm
Joe : Station of Reflection : Number 8
Joe squinted as the number disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind a path going straight ahead into the darkness.
Tentatively, he began to make his way across, wondering if this was the last he would see of the platform behind him. As he walked along he noticed the path led to a small and spartan platform, it's lack of features only made visible by the light of the platform he had come from.
The only thing of note on the platform was a single chest. Looking around it, he noted that the path he had crossed had not yet disappeared and no other paths had yet to form. If he had caused something to trigger, it hadn't happened yet.
Not seeing any other options except to go back, Joe bent down and opened the treasure chest, hoping that it might hold the answer to what he would do next.
[ Kyle : Station of Awakening → Station of Reflection ]
The rush of strength he ripped from the Heartless was small, but the very action was... intoxicating. Even as he readied the rod to crush the Shadow, he felt his boiling anger sublimate into unhampered excitement, his contorted scowl twist into a wide, vengeful sneer. The rod came down upon it like the fist of an angry monster, and it burst into ephemeral black dust that quickly seeped back into the darkness. The Shadow was destroyed, and he felt powerful. Through its own weakness, Kyle drew strength. Heartless may have been considered predators, but now, those tables were turned—they were the prey, and he was the predator.
The adrenaline was still pumping through him as the air grew still, calm... and he felt a chill run down his spine, the power still circulating through his veins, no, his circuits. It was so weird to actually feel them, he'd written about them so often before, but to feel them... it was everything he'd imagined. All the same, as his stress waned, he bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at his hands. He'd given in to anger, even if it was a brief moment. It was no surprise to him, per se—he'd always had anger issues, particularly when provoked. He felt no shame, no guilt, nothing as ridiculous or self-loathing as that. But he did feel wary. This was how it always started, after all. People tended to be emotional, and when emotional, tended to resort to power rather than rationality.
It was the first fall. He had thought it earlier: intoxicating. He would have to keep an eye on himself, reaffirm the leash he kept on his temper. It wouldn't necessarily be difficult; he'd had anger issues for as long as he could remember, and had learned to restrain himself so well he hardly ever let anyone “have it,” no matter how thoroughly he might have played the scenario out in his head. But it would be an effort all the same.
With a deep breath, he tried to lower his heart rate again. And then the station shattered.
With a yelping shout, he began to tumble downward, waving his arms a bit to keep the fragments of glass from cutting him. Of course, they simply phased through his arms and moved out of his way on their own anyway, so it was a futile effort and a pointless concern. As he fell, he tried to get his bearings: the remains of the station he'd been on seemed to stay in place, growing farther by the second, like glimmering multi-colored stars on a moonless night sky; the abyss around him was as black as all the rest; and then, below, another glowing station, another radiant platform.
At his approach, his descent began to gradually slow, and he found his body once again automatically righting itself. As a result, on landing, his feet gently touched the ground and he didn't even need to bend his legs to absorb additional force from gravity's pull—if gravity was even really a factor of this otherworld anymore.
He dismissed his weapon and, running a hand through his hair, began to look at his new puzzling surroundings.
Song Yi Kim : The Dark Path : Station of Awakening HP: 100/100 | ATK: 10 | DEF: 10
Song's mind finally caught up with the full reality of the situation, most significantly how dangerous it was for her to stay still, and it freaked out. Losing her nerves wasn't the smartest thing to do in this situation but she had already lost too many of her nerves to realize that she shouldn't lose her nerves.
Between fight and flight, Song was the type to choose flight, but she had freaked out a little too late for that option to be successful. By the time her mind convinced itself of the dire situation she was in, the Shadow had launched its second attack. Under most conditions, her body needed at least a second to react to whatever her mind decided. No way no how was it finding that time now. The Heartless made contact with Song, and to the woman unfamiliar with pain, it felt like it was ripping her a new one. The claw strike, which didn't even do that much damage to her, knocked the wind out of the weak human, and she found herself staggering backward from just the little, itty bitty attack. It had felt like the little thing was trying to rip something out of her. Something precious and necessary enough to make every fiber of her being scream to get away. One hand clutched the freezing wound, which felt as warm as the rest of her body to the touch. Such a strange sensation. Where she felt the pain of the attack, that place felt a cold that seeped through her entire body, but it didn't feel cold to the touch. It would have been interesting if Song wasn't panicking so hard.
What her body could do even if it couldn't flee the first strike was to cast that one heal ability it had just learned off: Esuna. In a panic, it had been one of the first things Song sought to do, tied with running the hell away from the little beastie. This was before the Heartless had even landed its strike. It didn't matter that Song wasn't hurt at the time of casting. It didn't matter if the Heartless managed to actually hit her. It didn't matter that it would have been more efficient to caste Haste and then heal herself with the extra turn given by the ability. It mattered that Song didn't want to die and the best way she could think of to accomplish that was to spam her healing skill. In this case, it did something. Aha! Panic paid off!
There were no special effects to signal the channeling and use of Esuna, Song didn't even think it had a channeling time, but the chill and emptiness that had been filling the spot where the Heartless had attacked disappeared and Song felt almost better. The only damage left from the attack was the mental toll of horror and surprise, the usual symptoms of a peaceful civilian suddenly finding herself thrust against a monster, no matter how tiny and basic it may be.
Haphazardly, now that she had been struck, Song slashed with her own attack. Probably the Heartless's second attack was the shock she needed to realize that, just like in the games, she would need to fight back? Maybe not? It was hard to say. Song didn't know herself, not like she was thinking about it. In fact, she wasn't thinking about much. There wasn't much room for any kind of reasoning behind the sudden switch from flight to really bad fighting, which suggests that this attack had absolutely no thought behind it. Song wasn't thinking of anything when she swung. It just happened.
The Power of the Guardian. Kindness to Aid Friends. A Shield to Repel All.
Actions - Ability:
Esuna (10+n/a=10) > Song
[ The user heals a single target, which could be herself, for a percentage of total HP equal to the level of this ability. There is also a percentage chance of curing minor status effects that is equal to the level of this ability. If Song wants, she can freely lower the effectiveness of Esuna, such as healing for only 5% when she could heal for 10%. Upon reaching certain points in its level growth, Esuna becomes even more potent and flexible. ]
Attack:
Basic (10+17=27) > Heartless
Charge:
Esuna (1 charge)
[ The user heals a single target, which could be herself, for a percentage of total HP equal to the level of this ability. There is also a percentage chance of curing minor status effects that is equal to the level of this ability. If Song wants, she can freely lower the effectiveness of Esuna, such as healing for only 5% when she could heal for 10%. Upon reaching certain points in its level growth, Esuna becomes even more potent and flexible. ]
Defend:
Basic (10+6=16) > Heartless Attack (19)
Passives Plot Armor ~ Important NPC
[ Being knocked to 0 hit points or lower doesn't make Song keel over. She rises back on her next post with a vengeance, or would if she wasn't so cowardly and passive, at 1 hp and in perfectly normal condition (no status effects, buffs, debuffs, etc.). After being activated, plot armor goes on cooldown until Song manages to heal back up to at least a quarter of her health. ]
Kyle's expression twisted somewhat in a mixture of confusion and concern. Numbers? A desert? There had never been a number choice in the original deep dive—dive into the heart? Whatever it was originally called—nor had there been any sort of desert-like platform. This was something entirely new, something for which he wasn't prepared in the slightest, and he stood there perplexed for a number of reasons.
Biting his lip, he looked down at the floor and began to pace somewhat—and the station began to ripple. Well, that stopped him from pacing while he observed the desert landscape, then. The wavy dunes of sand were radiant, a shade of white-gold much closer to the former than the latter, though the tinge of yellow was still somewhat apparent. He could count the individual grains of sand, but he didn't, instead focusing on the vastness of the desert image. The hills and dunes, clearly windswept by strong gusts, seemed to stretch on for miles. Did this, too, have meaning? What importance could it have? All previous stations had some measure of metaphor or vital foreshadowing: the sleeping faces mixed with the chorus of 'Destati', Italian for 'Awaken'; the images of the already capture princesses, followed by the silhouettes of those remaining; the duality of Ventus and Vanitas in a struggle for domination. The backgrounds were typically simplified representations of their home worlds, or worlds of significance in the case of the Graveyard.
What did the desert mean, then, to him?
Sighing, he turned his gaze to the numbers surrounding him—something else of questionable relevance—and began his pacing anew, setting off a constant wake of rippling. At first, he thought he noted a familiar pattern, one that was relevant to him: the Fibonacci Sequence, the Golden Ratio, Ara'Dor. You take a number, add it with the previous to make the next number, and then continue so on until the end of time. Two numbers would be part of the Golden Ratio if their ratio is (approximately) the same as the ratio of their sum to the larger of the two quantities—for example, the ratio of 2 to 3 is the same as the ratio of 3 to 5 (2+3). As the numbers grew larger, each pair of numbers grew closer to the Golden Ratio, which was most often simplified to 1.61803398875.
This was important to Kyle less for the numbers and more for what they represented: supernatural beauty. The ratio popped up in nature with such unique regularity that it was statistically unfathomable. And yet, various trees and plants grew stems and leaves and branches that seemed to follow the ratio; countless spiral shells followed the pattern; researchers even believed they'd found evidence of the ratio in crystal formations, down to the atomic scale. It was... unbelievable, and yet very real.
So, as Kyle got past the number 8, his mind stuttered to a halt, staring at 11. His gaze jumped ahead beyond 13, and he found himself... disappointed. Following 13 were 17 and 19, two numbers most definitely not part of the sequence.
He huffed, his expression screwing up once again in frustrated contemplation.
That pattern, then, was shot. And it wasn't just one odd-ball screwing it up, standing out, but three. Was he supposed to choose only one? He felt like he was. Was he even supposed to choose? They were there, and though he wanted to approach, he felt hesitant. Simply approaching the weapons had triggered the instinct of required choice, but even now the instinct weighted upon him. And what's worse, they weren't random, obviously. Couldn't be. Well, they could be, but...
No. He had decided this was no dream. Everything felt real, felt true... felt. And if this was no dream, then it was... something.
Yeah, that's helpful.
So then, no ratio. He looked back at them. Mostly odd numbers, save two and eight. So that wasn't it. The prime issue? No, eight broke that pattern. True, it was a single stand-out, but that didn't necessarily make it right—it being “right” was entirely dependent upon the choice of “which is wrong” or “which is unique”. What if the choice was about personal significance? Seventeen stood out as the year he first went off to college, and the year of a very character-changing breakdown. But that felt... arbitrary by comparison.
Two, the keys needed for the Door to Darkness. Three, the constant theme of trinity (Sora, Donald, Goofy; Sora, Riku, Kairi; Axel, Roxas, She-Who?; Terra, Aqua, Ventus; Yen Sid, Xehanort, Eraqus). Five, eight, and eleven were of lesser significance. Thirteen, the number of the Organization, the number of Dark pieces of the X-Blade. Seventeen and nineteen were also of lesser significance.
Too many Kingdom Hearts references to count—none of which seemed of particular significance to him. He began to grind his teeth, his brain working the numbers over and over. Add them up, you get seventy-eight, so was eight the significant number yet again, taking the place of the missing seven? Count the differences, one, two, three, three, two, four, two, no, no significance, they did not repeat going backwards either, scrap, scrap. Multiply the opposing pairs, two and nineteen make thirty-eight, three and seventeen make fifty-one, five and thirteen make sixty-five, eight and eleven make eighty-eight, no pattern, scrap, scrap, scrap—
He released a loud, momentary cry of frustration as he plopped down on the floor and fell back so that he was staring into the abyss above.
“I could really use a guide right about now!” he shouted into nothing, glaring at the darkness above. He continued, though his voice began to grow softer as it became more of a ramble to himself. “Or a helpful little voice? A prompt, or hint, something...”
Eight was the only one that stood out singularly. Further, they all added up to seventy-eight. That was hardly anything of note except another eight. Was that coincidence? Maybe, but whatever power-that-be was writing this dream had chosen precisely these numbers, and precisely this many numbers. One number less, and the addition factor falls apart (though taking out two would have made eight stand out for yet another reason, being the only even number as well as the only non-prime); the same could be said of one number more.
He sat up, and began turning on the mosaic to look at the ethereal “8”.
Seven, the number of Lights, the number of required Heroes, the missing prime. Eight... huh, is it including me? I'm no light, though. It's also a sideways infinity symbol. I always wondered why that was...
He bit his lip. There was still feeling that something was missing. Something important, something he wasn't catching...
I know I'm over-analyzing. I wouldn't have to if the answers were clearer, though...
He stood up, and began walking to one side of the giant station—not too close to any one number, but just far enough way from the center that he could more clearly stare at the picture beneath him. There was something there. If the numbers were of significance, the picture had to be damn near vital; the immediate choices on the stations were always only important at that moment, but the images were important for the future, for something to come, with a significance more indirect than clear. He stared at the blowing dunes, trying to find any hint of a clue.
Well that was extremely disappointing on levels beyond belief, and infuriating levels of annoying. Really, that didn’t kill the dumb heartless? Feather thought she did really well with that last attack, it was glowing and everything. What is this bugger made of?
At this point, reality started to get past the delusion Feather has set up that this dream was going to be super easy. She’s in Kingdom Hearts man, with her knowledge she should be breezing through this. How can this level zero monster be besting her in combat, combat that she is playing with her own rules! No way can something like this beat her in her own dream that she can control.
The distorted reality started to warp itself, as Feather started having flashbacks to all the below 10 HP escapes of enemy champions. All those times, so close yet she couldn’t make it which usually meant she overextended her limits and died to ganks or enemy towers. All the memories went through her mind rolling like an old film reel, all the failures in ranked games causing people to argue to lose due to the salty players. The images went fast as a blink though the feeling of dropping ranks back into Wood IV was unbearable. All that time and effort going down the drain, a feeling really more painful that getting hit.
The heartless finally managed to claw through the sheet music barrier with its persistence, taking a chunk at her left arm. The whole system set up shook violently with blinking lights and a distortion of sound as Feather backed up some more, slowly nearing the edge of the platform. Was this heartless going to be living with the skin of its teeth and whittle her down? It was overwhelming, the negative thoughts easily clouding her judgement.
She started screaming.
“What the ********! Are you ******** kidding?! How the hell are you still alive you god damm useless mook that shouldn’t have more than 20 health? I swear I nuked you like unloading all of Veigar’s abilities on another AP carry! You are trash that needs to be taken out and incinerated!” Feather shouted her heart out and continued to shout profanity at the heartless, trying to get all the anger out of her as fast as possible before she overheats with the furnace in her soul. This isn’t a safe place to be in, a small voice in the back of her mind spoke but was drowned out by the sound of crackling fire.
Thankfully, Tidecaller was still playing as background music, so the anger that was reaching boiling point started to cool down due to the soft rhythmic beat emitting from the speakers behind her. It couldn’t calm the entire storm of emotions welling up within, but it worked well enough to get her to start up another round for another Power Chord attack. However, because she was so frustrated and agitated easily, she missed some easy notes and only fired out a rather weaker attack. If this doesn’t finish the monster, Feather is going to lose it.
Playing: Drop the Beat - Tidecaller Heartless Attack- 20 Feather Defense - 10 + D20: 5 = 15 Feather Attack- Power Chord 12 + D20: 8 =20 Current HP: 92/100 [552/1000 words]
The choices being made, the final dream weapon disappears as well. All of the pedestals have sunk back into the ground. Upon their disappearance, you become aware of magic. It's as if it's always been there, and you are just now recognizing it for what it is.
You are now aware of your abilities.
With this recognition comes the knowledge that you can summon your chosen dream weapon at will. It disappeared when you grabbed it, but if you call, it will return.
The spot where the last pedestal sunk into the ground is still dark. It begins to move, and two claws reach up from the ground. A shadow heartless pulls itself up onto the station. It's never still, bobbing, looking around, drawn to your heart. Yellow eyes fix upon you, and the creature lunges at you with its claws. _____________________________________________________________
Attack STR: 23
Dream Weapon: 0 points (no added bonus to attacks or defense, just your STR stat + D20 roll)
[ Song | Station of Awakening ]
The shadow was struck by Song's basic attack, and it seemed to do a decent amount of damage. The creature recoiled briefly, but it was compelled to attack, and continued to press with hardly any delay. It dove at her again, this time aiming for her legs. _____________________________________________________________
The heartless was a resilient sort. It sensed the attack coming, perhaps feeling the vibrations in the air, and dodged away. As it dodged, it moved in for the attack once again, leaping and swiping at Feather's face. _____________________________________________________________
Attack STR: 26
Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2015 7:01 pm
[ Joseph | Station of Reflection | Number 13 ]
The number 13 glows brightly before disappearing. As it does so, Joe would feel a heavy tug at his heart, like something was taken from him, a necessary exchange to unlock this path. An inspection of himself would find nothing out of place physically, no loss of health, no less strength, but something was taken. Without Joseph, the path would have remained sealed.
A path did appear. It was a path that glowed with its own light, and it continued on for a ways, curving slightly to the right, before ending abruptly. Ahead another station is visible. The station blinks in and out of existence. There are numbers on it as well, the same as where you left, and you can make out a person. The station changes each time it blinks, as does the person on it. It's far enough away to be hard to make out the details of who is on the platform, but it's clear that the person changes each time that it blinks. _____________________________________________________________
- The blinking platform is shifting between everyone who is already on the Station of Reflection. - It blinks about every 20 seconds - You can see and hear each other, but you're far away. Also, blinks every 20 seconds, so the person on the platform switches every 20 seconds - Whoever is staring directly at number 13 for more than a minute will be able to see/hear Joseph (you don't have to be right up next to the number)
[ Joe | Station of Reflection | Number 8 ]
The chest opens, revealing a key. It's a simple key, gold in color. The platform appears to have nothing else to offer.
[ Kyle | Station of Reflection | Desert Image ]
The desert image shifts as you look at it, and you become aware that there is a keyhole in the very center of this platform. It's hard to notice, unless you take a few minutes to look, because the size of it is normal door size, small enough to easily be overlooked, especially with all the ripples that appear when you move.
You see another item within the image that was not there a moment ago. It's a cube. _______________________________________________________________
- Describe the cube, if you want. The keyhole is plot related, but the cube will have no impact on the story. I'll reveal it's purpose later. It can be any size, made of any material, made of multiple materials, look like anything, resemble anything.
The male frowned, a hand going to his chest and clutching at it slightly. What the hell...was...did something get swiped?
The male tried to shake it off. Maybe he'd remember about it later, but...for now he had a new path in front of himself. Which he traveled across.
Yawning, Joseph reached the end of the path, and noticed the other platform. Platforms? It was hard to tell, but as he quietly watched, he noticed the people on it were changing. But did that mean it was cycling through platforms? Or was it one platform and he could only see one at a time? Or...well, it seemed beyond his thinking.
Rolling around the three rocks in his hand, he watched...then finally just decided to shout out. "HEY!" He waved while he did so. Maybe he'd get someone's attention. Or maybe not, but...couldn't hurt, he figured.
Even if he forgot he was naked with bits of dried blood from scratches on himself, as well as a rune painted with blood on his side.
----------------------- HP: 82/100 Current Stock:
ᛊ (Sōwilō) [bomb type] x2ᚷ (Geƀō) [bomb type] x1
Current Runes:
ᚷ (Geƀō) [body type] x1
Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2015 8:22 pm
Joe : Station of Reflection : Number 8
Joe looked inside and rolled his eyes at the contents of the box. It was a key. Of course it was. As if this dream needed any more references thrown in his face. 'Well, now that I have a key, I suppose I need to find the keyhole.' he thought. Seeing no other options, Joe grabbed the key and turned back, returning to the previous platform. The pathway was still intact, so there had to be something more to this.
Joe turned and began to look around at the other numbers, trying to see there were any other irregularities in the pattern. As far as he could see, there weren't any. All the numbers were prime. 'So, math knowledge isn't working. Maybe I need to switch subjects?'
Several numbers in the Kingdom Hearts series had an important thematic value to them, he remembered that. Of those, the number thirteen represented several important things pertaining to the characters. Most relevant to his interests, it had an association with characters who wielded keys and unlocked things. Maybe that was his ticket.
Sure, thirteen was unlucky, he knew that. So was going down the dark path and so far he had turned out fine. Taking risks was the entire reason he came down this path. What was one more?
Slowly, Joe approached the floating number with key in hand, hoping that he wasn't walking into a very obvious trap.
Gentleman Knives
Offline
Faera Meralin
Offline
Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2015 8:42 pm
With so many possibilities in front of her, Ahria had a really hard time trying to figure out what she wanted to do. It felt like she was being pushed into another choice, but she couldn't decide what to choose. Each number seemed significant in its own right, but none of them jumped out at her as being the one she had to pick now.
And so, after giving up on making a decision, she turned to the rest of the desert image. Nothing she saw so far felt as important right now, so she reasoned that she either was missing something important or she had to choose in conjunction to something else. It was odd though, images didn't normally ripple like this unless displayed on water.
Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2015 9:38 pm
[ Kyle : Station of Reflection ]
For awhile, nothing particularly stood out to him. The view was certainly majestic and captured his attention, but not for any of the right reasons. Specifically, he was hoping for a hint, a clue, but all he saw was a beautiful, if desolate, landscape of flowing hills and endless sand, manipulated and dominated by even the slightest breeze. Deserts were, if nothing else, the end of a debate: so many insisted that the mountain stood immobile in the face of the wind, and yet lo, lo, who died first, the ground or the sky? It was only a matter of time, and biding it; the wind and other elements always wore down stone, breaking it down to its most fundamental fragments.
There was foreshadowing there, he pondered. Unification was temporary, bonds were transient; force was forever, power was eternal. And all sums could be broken down to units.
Are my bonds stronger than those between molecules?
Kyle would have liked to say yes, but before he could even finish the train of thought, something caught his eye. No... less that it caught his eye and more that he became aware of it, as if through some instinctive pull. After a few moments of searching, he found what his mind's eye sought: a keyhole. It was as small as those on the doorknobs in his home, though more akin to the Kingdom Hearts in shape than the tumbler-based modern locks. He approached it, kneeling down to run his finger over it—and then he saw something different, as if it had been behind a dune which had since been blown over.
A box? No, just... a cube?
His attention drawn to the image, stepped over to it to get a better look, though it took some time to normalize due to the ripples his steps made, but after a time, he remained perplexed. It was by far the strangest cube he'd seen; it hardly seemed physical. Staring at it was like staring into a hole in reality, because the entire thing appeared to be a cube of... well, for lack of a better word, space. There were galaxies and nebulae covering—filling?—the cube. In fact, he felt that 'filling' was a more apt description—looking at one of the different visible sides simply showed the same image from that side's perspective. It was as if the cube was made of invisible glass and it contained a universe.
He could have stared at it for eternity, but instead he sighed, looking back at the keyhole. There was nothing here to give him a hint about the numbers—
Well, the coming war was going to be between eight Keyblade wielders, technically, right? Sora, Riku, Kairi, Ventus, Aqua, Mickey, Lea, and the many facets of Xehanort... Alternatively, you could include Terra in the list of Keyblade Heroes...
He groaned, running his hand through his hair again.
Lord you're stretching. The Keyhole could just as easily be a sign of the Door to Darkness, which required two keys, or three if you count the various trios of Key wielders, or 13 for the Xehanort fragments, and just...
The groaning turned into a growl, and he stomped his feet back and forth a bit.
Shut up! Shut up shut up. You're fraying, you're FRAYING—
He grabbed his head with both hands and shouted with every ounce of air he could hold in his lungs. Finally frustrated enough, he tried to will himself out of the dream, drawing on raw anger to kick his mind out of its slumber. When he ran out of air, and his throat felt raw, he found his mind clear, completely devoid of thought... and his consciousness still on the station, surrounded by numbers.
“So, definitely not a dream. Then one thing at a time.”
The keyhole did nothing. The cube did nothing. The numbers had too many factors to go by, as far as Kingdom Hearts was concerned.
Narrow it down. Cut away the excess, trim away the veil. Occam's Razor the s**t out of it.
There was only one pattern he could find that left a single option standing out, and once again he was back to his earlier thoughts on eight.
I could be here for hours and never find anything so singular as that. ******** it, here goes.
He approached the number eight with as much finality as he could muster, grumbling in his head about there being too many options.
Song Yi Kim : The Dark Path : Station of Awakening HP: 86/100 | ATK: 10 | DEF: 10
The recoil that the Heartless suffered from her attack gave Song a little breathing room, which she took to return to the same posture as before and back away from the enemy in fear. Whatever had driven her to attack just a moment ago no longer lingered in her body. "S-stop. Please stop," she whimpered helplessly. If someone had asked her why she was trying to talk to the mindless mass, she wouldn't have been able to answer. It was an act of desperation with no rhyme or reason behind it. All this because she had been hit once by some small, beginner-level Heartless and didn't want to fight it even after landing the first blow. Song was feeling pathetic right now. She was genre-savvy enough to know that she was either acting like that side character who was killed off as an example for the main character or that annoying, useless chick that screamed at everything and did little else. Despite realizing all that, though, she still couldn't summon up the courage to step up, fight for her survival, and do something useful. The badly ending "what-ifs" clouded her mind and drove out the certain knowledge that doing nothing would definitely end in a game over .
Almost too quickly, the Heartless pressed with its next attack. Song yelped in response and brought her rod close to her body, trying to hide behind it. No dice. The heartless's pounced on Song and connected its attack, the momentum of the strike bringing it across Song's body to the other side of her. If Song had been a third party viewing this fight from afar, she may have noted that the Heartless's slash through her body looked like it could have been the dramatic final strike straight out of some sort of dramatized sword fight. Too bad she had to experience the attack first-hand, and was left gasping from the chilling sensation of a claw ripping something straight out of the very depths of her being. Song freaked out, staggering back and forth from the combination of cold and pain. She thought that the first strike hurt plenty. This one hurt even more.
Her eyes, apart from that moment when she was most distracted by the pain of the Heartless's strike, had kept the threat in vision. If she was going to be hit, she wanted to be aware of it. Even now, before Song could fully recover, she was looking wide-eyed at the skittering abomination. It was now skirting the edge of the station and Song instinctively shrunk away from it. Her nerves were too frayed to even realize that it probably had to go through the short delay between attacks characteristic of video game enemies. She wanted away, but where? Nowhere. Her situation reminded her of "The Most Dangerous Game." A strange connection to make, certainly, but something that the protagonist did in it just resonated with her here and now,
With some wit now gathered, Song tightened her grip on the Dream Rod. Her mind wasn't fully there, but it was now present enough in her actions to try for a basic double offense, where she hoped the second attack would be able to hit through the opening of the first. She wasn't sure if it would work, but she didn't have the time to notice such doubts. With more reason and intent in this attack than her first, mindless flail, Song jerked her weapon up over her head, concentrating on the upwards motion to send a wave of Memiroa towards the Shadow. She rushed at the Heartless in the wake of the wave, mustering as much force as she could in the few steps it took to reach the target. All of that force was focused into Song's downwards strike once she was in range.
Song didn't pay heed to the edge. She trusted the station to be surrounded by an invisible wall which would catch her reckless charge and prevent her from falling off the edge and into the unknown darkness below. Certainly, making such a thoughtless move so close to a precipice made her feel uneasy, but that uneasiness was hardly anything worth noting compared to the uneasy emotions fighting caused for Song.
The Power of the Guardian. Kindness to Aid Friends. A Shield to Repel All.
Actions - Ability:
Memiroa (10+2=12) > Song
[ This non-elemental spell strikes a single target for normal spell damage. Extremely malleable, it can take any number of forms: a simple bolt, a placed explosion, reinforcing a weapon, etc.. If the target is defeated within the same round that it was targeted by Memiroa and the target's DEF stat is less than or equal to Memiroa's points, then a card with detailed and honest information on the target will be created. When created, the card appears in Song's hands. ]
Attack:
Basic (10+1=11) > Heartless
Charge:
Esuna (1 charge)
[ The user heals a single target, which could be herself, for a percentage of total HP equal to the level of this ability. There is also a percentage chance of curing minor status effects that is equal to the level of this ability. If Song wants, she can freely lower the effectiveness of Esuna, such as healing for only 5% when she could heal for 10%. Upon reaching certain points in its level growth, Esuna becomes even more potent and flexible. ]
Defend:
Basic (10+5=15) > Heartless Attack (29)
Passives Plot Armor ~ Important NPC
[ Being knocked to 0 hit points or lower doesn't make Song keel over. She rises back on her next post with a vengeance, or would if she wasn't so cowardly and passive, at 1 hp and in perfectly normal condition (no status effects, buffs, debuffs, etc.). After being activated, plot armor goes on cooldown until Song manages to heal back up to at least a quarter of her health. ]
