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The villagers were restless.

Truth be told they hadnt a clue what to do. This man had simply appeared from no where, he spoke a language many of then had never heard. With his arrival came a great magical beast, and then alot of magic and fire, and now he fell to rest. The execution, while complete, seemed small in comparison to what else had transpired. Of the few people who could understand the ninja in question, his final words were the most poignant. He said, tomorrow.

Would he be summoning more monsters tomorrow? Many villagers and more than a few guards believed it best that the man be killed here in his sleep. Others argued that perhaps only he could save them from these unseen monstrosities should they return, as he had prophesied, tomorrow.

The people were torn, they argued for quite some time without actually ever moving from the gallows. Until more and more the sand people began to realize it was very hot outside, and that they should likely head back to the village. While the ninja's fate was undecided, all of the villagers agreed that leaving a man, any man, sitting out in the open desert unconscious was distinctly against their religions beliefs. And so, despite threat of punitive action, one of the larger of the guardsmen attempted to heft the ninja over his shoulder and carry him back to town.

If all went right, then umbra would be waking...whenever he woke, inside of a small room, on a cot, inside of a house, all by himself, though with voices coming from just outside his room.

Damrius looked at his gun, and threw it over the edge into the desert. He then reached down and quickly pulled out his two swords, The Thunderblade (Something he'd obtained while in Angara) And then his regular longsword. He slid the thunderblade into place on his back - the slots were already there for a sword to be placed, as well as his hips - and unsheathed the longsword.

He threw the sheath overboard, and then picked up the bag and threw it it as hard as he could overboard, coming back around on the boarding opponents.

He acknowledged stephen's comment, and released his spiritual bonds blocking off the electrical energy from the connection to the plane, as well as his own natural affinity for it.

"Make it fast! I'll pull in as much as my body can handle, and then some!"

His body started to writhe with electrical energy, both the blueish white, as well as his Black lightning - He would make this one helluva show, better than what he did with the grid-get up in the thunderdome.

Stephen's face was somewhat exasperated as Dame started the fireworks BEFORE the signal was given. He knew that Thunderboy had some sort of comprehension of timing, but clearly he was getting a little ahead of himself.

On the positive side, he got rid of some of the competition.

Stephen turned and found himself facing a nasty little number as one of the raiders pointed a shotgun at him. The man simply shot a look at the raider that read 'Seriously?... SERIOUSLY?' With a sigh he shifted his weight and prayed to anyone in the pantheons of the great beyond who would listen that he wouldn't draw aggro from Sparky's light show.



Stephen would bring his arms up in a cross and slam them down and into a chambered position as if he were preparing to throw some martial arts punches. But the punch that would come wouldn't be from the man's fist, but a sudden surge of water that burst outward in all directions from the man. Any of the bandito bastards within the radius (such as Shotgun McGee over there) would find themselves swept back, potentially even off of the Tunnel Snake.

Speaking of which, the water that went off towards the sides of the cars would continue onward, surging off of the sides and drenching any cars and riders within range.

"DO IT DO IT DO IT!"

Dame had his signal. It was up to him to make this combo work.

And there it was.

The roller coaster ride that was the world cside by siame to a screeching halt as the great shadeyou know nothing about. You kn's shattered red eye turned to address the cave. She could s holalmost hear those shards of red, see the words hend this, one way ore was saying... no, that didn't make sense, whmanipulated by the deathat's going on here? She pursed her lips to speak, but instead found her sensesopen your mind. overwhelmed.

"Nngh..."

Something felt different. At first, it was like looking directly into the sun, and it took a few moments for Rage, now looking very much like his usual self, to adjust his eyes to the sights around him. His hearing worked well enough, catching most of the words even though he could only make out hazy shapes in front of him. The initial shock seemed to fade, and the little resistance he had to giving over to the dreamworld finally subsided. The dream was shaky, grainy at first, almost as if someone was watching an old movie reel that had seen far better days. But eventually, things began to come into focus as Rage took a few steps forward towards the scene in front of him, scratching at the base of his neck. He recognized these figures, knew these faces... he wasn't quite sure how, but it was as if someone was planting the information in his head as he went.

Shades.

Betalpha. Ezra. Some of the words that went missing from before the vision floated into his ears.

"You - All of you - Are being manipulated by the deaths of those you've never watched die."

What was unfolding didn't make any sense - even with the dream trying to force the information into his head, it was difficult to understand who the players were, who the invisible puppeteer was - what were the shade's words supposed to mean? The scene continued to play out, until he saw the weakened Ezra shuffle his way over to complete his mission.

"... tch!"

He was no longer walking towards the scene that played out. He was running, each step taking him nowhere, the tiles beneath his feet slipping like a treadmill. This was insane. He didn't even know why he was running now, his feet pounding against ground that didn't exist. Why was he was putting such a futile effort into something he knew he couldn't stop?

Because isn't that what a hero does?

"...!"

Standing off to Ezra's fallen side, he instinctively brought an arm to his face to protect against that which could not hurt him, which eventually went to Ezra's shoulder. But something in the man's voice shook him. "Rest?" He looked up at the events that had unfolded, and the two men now conversing, being pulled along without having to take a single step.

Something didn't seem to click like it should have as the last thing that Rage could see was a figure emerging from the wreckage.

The picture was falling apart. What the hell was going on here?

If I'm the villain... who's the hero?

By the time the vision had faded, Rage was left standing where the brown-haired woman once was, glassy-eyed and looking unusually pale. The pain from his wounds returned all at once, causing him to almost instantly crumple in agony at once, even as the stoic knight explained what was going on. This just couldn't be - he had seen the knight pull the sword, wasn't he supposed to be on the side of good? That's how knights worked! Alpha was the evil one, he had summoned the shades to --

What makes you so sure of that?

His vision red, he almost managed to work up a smile. It had only occurred to him now that they had been dragged out into the middle of the desert, out into a cave that they had only found due to visions and dreams. The kind of place where nobody would find them.

"... s**t."

His left arm propped against the ground, he managed to wedge a knee under his body just as a horrible screech erupted around the cavern, with stones flying everywhere. He saw through the red, saw the stones that fell into orbit around the knight. Saw them take the place of an arm that wasn't there. He brought his other leg up, managing to get back to his feet, seeming to smile even as a trickle of blood escaped his lips. He mouthed the words even as Ezra spoke them.

And the shades attacked.

It was difficult to process everything that was going on - some sort of hulking beast was moving towards them, a shade that he had seen before but it wasn't registering, particularly not when there was feedback going on in his head. It had been a while since last someone had spoken through his head, a sort of pressure against the base of his brain building up before giving way to acceptance. He wasn't sure if he could respond to the rest, but Athan's voice seemed to boom through.

"Sorry for dragging you guys into this."

There wasn't any time for something snappy or sentimental, since as Rage looked up a pair of massive fists were coming down. Cue awkward dive that would make most action heroes cringe, as Rage landed on his stomach, only reinforcing that his pain wasn't going to go away anytime soon. He struggled to his feet - he wasn't going to be able to take this thing on alone. "Hey," he thought to nobody in particular, hoping that this worked the same way now as it did those few year ago, "You, on the controls, do whatever KEEPS US FROM GETTING KILLED. The rest of you guys, we need to take down Goliath. Any suggestions?"

He caught a brief glimpse of Athan in the chaos of the Rook's destructive path and the many shades that surrounded them.

"Heh."

((I don't mind.))

Stephen watched in amused embarrassment as the entire convoy of raiders smashed, crashed, and exploded their way into crispy debris strewn across the desert.



He looked around the cars for a moment to make sure that no one else was around to get their asses kicked when -



- he saw it. Sticking up like a golden sword in a shining stone, the beautifully anarchic weapon had a radiance about it (probably due to the shine in the man's eyes, but technicalities, right?) It seemed to be calling out to him like a siren, singing praises and glories to the one who would soon call it his own, a fantastic trophy of legend and might!



Simple in design, brutal in use, it was a deceptively simple weapon that could turn a person into a pile of messy giblets when they least expected it. Dangerous to both owner and opponent, it was a clumsy weapon from a less civilized age.



Stephen grabbed the weapon and ripped it mightily from it's resting place. Tonight, the desert was his b***h. All comers would cower before him and the might of his weapon! None could stop him! He was a god! NO! A LEGEND!

Damrius dropped his arms to his side and twisted his foot on the ground, looking like a child guilty of something.

"Ohhh.... I was hoping to play with them a little bit longer..." Then it hit him, "I...I... Want my gunssssss back!" As he felt the pain of losing something like five thousand dollars to the desert, his eyes began to water, and his lip quiver.

And then he saw it - Raised up by the short blonde one, a bat... with spikes! That was a million times better than any GUN!

"Gasp! Stephen!" He said, as he jumped forward, randomly seeming to shrink in size as his whole body snaked around Sutii's in a very old school anime style usually attributed to extreme affection or thanks.

Int his case, it was the mere amazement at the sight of such a... GODLY weapon! Damrius wanted it... and currently he was wiggling around stephen (in no way sexually) as though here were merely and amorphous blob.

"SHARING IS CARING!"