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 Posted: Tue May 17, 2016 4:23 pm
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Posted: Tue May 17, 2016 5:12 pm
My Angel of Death It was raining and it has been for a long time, obviously. Noticing the giant puddles scattered across the stony paths and roads of Ba'al. Tyra could swear that every car that went by had purposefully driven through them as fast as they could so she would be blasted with cold, dirty water. Ba'al was a magic-folk town in Non-magic Earth, kept secret from most humans' eyes. That didn't mean it was any better than the loathsome world around it. But she didn't care about that, all that mattered now was that she killed the target for her master. If she did, then she would be rewarded. With the sky black as night and only a few street lamps lighting up dull corners she was easily able to slip her small frame around corners or around most people that didn't pay attention to a young, adolescent girl. If there was one useful thing about being a little 12 year old girl is that nobody noticed you on the streets looking like this. She had a tunic, a bit muddy and wet now, some shorts that barely covered her knees and were torn on one side, as well as a pair of tattered old leather shoes. Her hair was a mess on either side, braids or knots came together into two pony tails. One side put up much higher than the other in what would seem many failed attempts or arguments with herself in a mirror. Another car whipped by, this time with someone shouting at the window. She tutted. These scum don't know what driving a car is really like, she knew, she had come from the world of non-magic folk. There they used electricity, not magic. There they used science, not alchemy. Ba'al was only a small cranny in the world, and though it was for magic folk, it was nothing like Occulas, nothing like the fabled city of Absóluté or the elven realms. It was stagnant, illegal and most of all elusive to the Occult. They were the group that kept Magic Earth secret from Non-magic Earth, they were the enforcers of law on all magic folk living in mundane human countries or towns, they were the demon hunters that hunted and killed any demon or creature that slipped through the magical world and into Earth. Ba'al, however, was out of their sights. Cars, usually most things with ordinary engines were banned in most magic areas, especially on Magic Earth as the magical properties of the land caused them to explode, or worse. Here it was possible... but it did mean that almost any arcane conduit nearby would cause a local dead zone of power. Tyra remembered when she lived with normal people, they had a power cut, and it wasn't just the storm... it was magic folk, like these people.
When she slipped into the alleyway she hadn't expect her target to be there already. Her feet stepped through puddles that made loud splashes, it sent a falling sensation through her stomach. But she stayed strong, this man was only a trader of the magic folk, a man of the black market that double-crossed her master. He couldn't be much of a problem for her, she's been able to attack for years, fending for herself on streets till she was found. For the last year she's been training to assassinate. Albeit quite difficult when she couldn't agree with herself on the most disgusting or the most fun killing technique.
He turned around suddenly. He had a beanie hat, grey stubble, crows feet beside his eyes which had a silver glaze over them. But he wore a long trench coat with dark clothes underneath. He was able to wear much better clothes than she with all that money he had stolen from her master. "Oh" he said, his voice hoarse. Rain had drenched him too, it was still hitting her shoulders like pebbles, making all her skin feel sticky. "The little girl is lost? No?" he stretched out a hand to her, Tyra stared at it like a foreign object with red-purple eyes. She'd forgotten about the stench of garbage bins beside her when she noticed the leathery hand, such a nice glove she thought. All these nice things this man had made her blood boil - what right did he have to be happy when she was not - when her master was not. She lashed out at him, letting out a cry as her hand scratched through his gloves and drew blood. Lightning struck and lit up her body like a ghost in the night. What it revealed were gauntlets on her hands, each tipped with razor sharp - although a little rusty - claws. He stumbled back, holding his hand and looked surprised. She took the moment to lash out again, pouncing forwards and shouting remarks like "LET ME RIP YOUR GUTS OUT" and "... THEN I'LL SHRED YOU!" Her voice sounded like it was ripping at the back of her through, as if pure anger and hatred was forcing itself through her vocal chords. Her last attack fell through though, when he darted out of the way and slammed into the wall to evade her. She tripped into a bin, causing a loud noise before she felt the blow of something blunt hit her back and she went flying sideways, rolling across the stony floor and landing in a puddle as she attempted to regain her breath.
The man towered above her, the lightning turning his body into a silhouette, but his smile glowed like a Cheshire cat. He lifted up his boot, ready to bring it down on her head. She wondered then, what it would feel like to be killed without a weapon. She held her body, curled up, coughing up some blood from that last blow. She couldn't tell if the blood was from inside or if she just bit her tongue on the fall. Everything was numb. The next blow came and she was shuffled slightly further to the mans feet. When she opened her eyes, among the pain, she couldn't help but laugh when she saw him. It was as if she couldn't control it, something inside her made her laugh and smile hysterically. His shoes were just as poor as hers. He brought up hit foot again to stamp on her head again, but this time he didn't get to touch her. This time she stuck her thumb out and rammed it as hard as she could into his ankle, piercing as much as she could and making sure to give it a good twist as she did it. He let out a cry of agony and fell down instantly, like his leg had given out from beneath him. Tyra lay where she was, beginning in a small chuckle - but this soon turned to maniacal laughter as she cried out some more. "YOU BRAT!" he shouted out, getting to one knee, "WHO ARE YOU?!"
"Hehehe. Last time I saw you, i thought you looked stupid with that hat" Tyra chimed out from her hysteria on the floor, her voice now honey-sweet and childish. But she let out another comment, this time angrier like before, "NO. I SAID YOU'D LOOK BETTER WITHOUT A HEAD - I was right."
"You!" he let out, "I remember you!" He struggled to his feet, now remembering who she was. "You're here because oh him, aren't you!" the man spat on the floor as she began to stand. "You are so naive that you cannot see your master for who he really is - you are meaningless to him. And not to mention bat-sh*t insane!"
She remembered the next part well, it hurt more than anything she's felt before. Whilst she was giggling to herself all that time she failed to see him stand back up and never saw the brick come down until it hit her on the hip. She began to cry out again in pain and was reminded that she should leave. Now was her chance, too, with him having fallen back to the floor from his previous injury. She managed to force herself to her feet, and slowly but surely, limped away into the night, back out into the streets and back to her home.
Inside it was dry, the walls were bare, the floor was bare too apart from a single rug, and none of the lights work. Her used used cheap candles instead, said electricity was too expensive, and arcane magic would cause unwanted guests to come looking. Both energies messed with his experiments. She dragged herself through however, and placed herself on a stall in the corner of the room, reaching across the wall to knock on the wooden door to her master's cranny. He came out quickly and with a face of surprise when he found her. This man was different than the one in the alleyway. Her master had a bald head, and usually wore a hood to cover it. It was down now, collapsed around his shoulders in a grey-white ripple. His face was old, filled with blemishes and covered from mouth to chest with a long grey beard. He had a matching coat that hung low over his knees, stitches were holding random tears together, and patches covered burned holes and blood stain. "Tyra!" he exclaimed, coming around with his frail body to surround her, "are you alright?"
"He beat me..." she whined, holding her gut and rocking in her small seat. Her master then put a hand on her shoulder, "I know, I can see that my child-"
"HE BEAT US" came the angrier voice, she looked up at him, angry. "We are meant to win. We never lose" Tyra was distraught, her anger numbing the pain of her injuries. And that was when her sensei stood up and took a step back. At first she thought maybe what the man before had said was right. That she was meaningless, that now she had lost her master and he would forget her, perhaps even kill her now that she knows too much and failed so miserably. "No!" her jolly voice cried out, almost into a shrill scream, "no! Don't leave me-"
"You are a sweet little girl, Tyra" he began, his voice soft, yet still old, "You are able to capture anyone's emotions. You can use anyone and play with them like toys. And when you have grown tired and exhausted their use, you can just throw them away." .
Even now, 12 years later, she always remembered that. Even as she grew up, even now as she was being marched down this unknown underground tunnel towards what she's been told is her prison. The Bastille was an inescapable jail. It was beneath the great Red City of Asmodius, in Occulas, Magic Earth. Her master's words still echoed in her mind, she learned back then, that she couldn't win a fight just by being strong and dangerous. That she had to cultivate her sweetness, use it on people, get close to their hearts and then... only then, rip it apart. She began to hear the sound of other criminals, murderers, assassins and the like from the Bastille as the tunnel slow began to widen. She felt her lips widened, and a chuckle came from under her breath as the guards tightened their grips on her arms. Again, she went back into thought, remember how she got here in the first place, 12 years ago.
She looked up at him, her master, with those round purple-red eyes. "I believe in you" he said, "or else I would not have given you a name, Tyra Shi'no'Tenshi. My angel of death."
Finally they arrived into the Bastille, and there was a roar of people shouting from beind bars all around the monolithic, cylindrical room. It was perhaps 10, no, 20 floors high. It was wide enough to fit a squadron of soldiers in the middle, comfortably. There were bridges over head, balconies near more cells, corridors leading off into no doubt even more cells and mass jails. Suddenly, she was in the middle of the room, and she was thrown to the ground before the a tall man in golden armour with a bright red cape. She looked up at him and grinned. He grunted, and all Tyra could do was laugh, she guffawed into the space around her and tensed all her muscles before straightening up and leveling her gaze with him from the ground. She paused, and her grin vanished as her hoarse, angry voice came out to play.
"You'll help me climb out of this hole... once I have your insides to use as a rope!"
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Posted: Wed Sep 11, 2019 4:56 pm
 Scarlot Tamiya-Satoru ± : . : ± : . : ± : . : ± Once like a dream
You looked at me
And everything felt new
Time flicked away
The path seemed to fade
My hope restored by youA BLADE'S LEGACYScarlot Tamiya-Sotaru was a young girl when she lost her parents. She was wisped away by the Occult because of a rogue criminal and was forced to move to Asoka to live with her uncles. Shortly afterwards her parents went missing, presumed dead. No one really told her the truth for months, but she knew what had happened. Ever since she had dedicated herself to becoming stronger, secretly, to defeat the enemy of her parents. Willow Morta, her glaive, was a weapon handed to her from her father, a family heirloom that had seen generations of battle. Scarlot, nicknamed Lottie by her family and friends, always carried it with her like a prized possession, it was never further than arms reach. Accept this time it was. It was her third year at Hope Academy, officially she was a Second Year, but that's beside the point. She and Micha'el Maues had already become official partners at the academy, which many student were encouraged to do before their final year. She and Micha'el were on a mission in the forests north of Hope Academy to deal with a strange influx cheshires. A Cheshire was small mammal that often lurked closer to the borders with Zakernand, but yearly packs of them would travel south not far from the academy. The two of them were walking through the forest, presumably after having some kind of argument judging by the scowling look on Lottie's face. "Micha'el!" she shouted, crossing her arms as she walked along behind him. "No Lottie, not until you improve your unarmed fighting style" Micha'el replied ahead of her, her glaive floating at his side, enchanted with a white-glowing magic that was telling her to keep her hands off or face some kind of magical explosion. Lottie scowled again, "I'm not here to train my fist-fighting! We're here to see what's going on with the cheshires. Micha'el, I can't fight without it!" "Exactly! You need to learn to fight without it." "Well haven't you made that plainly obvious!" Lottie spat back, at which point Micha'el turned on his heel, revealing his angry, round blue eyes that were being squashed down by his eyebrows. "You can't just rely on your dad all the time, Lottie! Perhaps he should have taken this thing with him then he'd still be here-" Micha'el stopped with a small gasp, eyes wide like he'd just seen a ghost. "Lottie- I'm- I'm sorry." Lottie had also stopped moving then, her eyes now looking down at the ground, a weight had fallen over her eyelids and shoulders, as if her body was being dragged to the ground with his words. Words hurt, she thought, more than anything else right now. At first she didn't know what to say, but then she quickly said "so what, you think it's some kind of curse?" She looked up at his, eyes filled with hatred, watering at the edges. "No... no I don't mean-" "Then what do you mean? No, you know what. Forget it. I can fight without Willow Morta" Lottie said, pushing passed him, not even taking one more glance at him. The two of them continued through the woods for some time in silence. Every twig beneath Micha'els feet would make Lottie tense, she could feel her nails digging in to her palms as she went. The breeze through the thicket wasn't enough to keep her temperature down, her own anger was boiling her blood like an oven. That was when something jumped through the bushes and attacked Micha'el, throwing him down to the ground with a great thud. Lottie turned around to see a great beast of darkness looming over him. A Bleeding Dire Wolf. These creatures were large wolves with dark, almost blue fur that thinned and became bald on their faces, giving the impression that their bare skill was visible when in fact it was pale skin. Their eyes reflected any and all light, giving the impression they were cat's eyes staring at you in the darkness whether night or day. She could see then as Micha'el struggled that it's eyes were leaking a white-gold liquid, this substance often glowed at night, but was still easily visible during the day too. They got their name from their eyes, that 'bled' this liquid because of the poisonous things they ate and excreted from their tear-ducts. "Micha'el!" Lottie screamed as he unleashed a burst of white light that through the wolf into the next tree, breaking it's bark from the trunk. "I'm fine" he said, brushing himself down, "it's only one. I'll finish-" Before he could finish Lottie was already running at the beast. She'll admit, this one was smaller than most, perhaps a young wolf, she she thought she could take it on. As if clouded by her anger she was launching herself at it. The wolf unleashed its razor-like obsidian claws and she twisted between the attack, landing beside it. She tried to kick it's legs out from beneath it, but it was stronger than she expected. As Micha'el told her to move she continued to ignore him, even as he began to conjure up a spell. The wolf whipped around to glare at her and as it did it's bleeding eyes splattered on her arm, burning her sleeve and irritating her skin. It felt like acid. But she bit her lip to ignore the pain. She moved again, this time around its side to dodge the next swipe. Again she dashed and this time with her elbow towards it's skull. She delivered a hefty blow to it's cheek that caused it to yelp out in pain and stumble to the side. "See!" she shouted at Micha'el, scowling at him. But Micha'el couldn't do anything to reply as another wolf, this one double the size, leaped for Micha'el. It threw him to the ground with such force that the air was knocked from his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath as the enchantment on Willow Morta was broken, causing it to drop to the ground between them. Lottie felt her body react before she could think and in a moment she was running towards him and was instantly kicked back by the beast, which threw her directly back towards the smaller wolf that caught her arm in it's jaws and threw her to the ground. She let out a cry of pain as she felt her energy depleting. She squinted her eyes, trying to see what was happening. But the pain in her arm was so much that she could barely think, let alone see properly. Lottie then felt a warmth on her skin and when she opened her eyes she could see white light. Micha'el, still struggling beneath the larger beast, had sent some of his magic to her, wrapping it around her arm like a soothing barrier. She then noticed Willow Morta on the ground, just outside of her reach as the first wolf came down to bite her. She threw her arm at it, the magic around her arm causing it to strike like a hammer and throw it aside. She bit her lip again, this time tasting blood as she rolled towards the glaive to dodged the next bite of the dire wolf. She rolled over the glaive and for almost a split second... the smallest fraction of a second, she contemplated not grabbing it. Even still, in the face of immediate danger, she was thinking about proving her point to Micha'el. But just then she saw him struggling and couldn't bare to risk it all because of a stupid fight. In her final roll she clasped her hand around the glaive and immediately brought it up, slicing the wolf's shoulder open, splattering blood across the grass as it howled and leaped backwards. Lottie brought herself to a stand, her eyes still angry, but this time at the wolves. By now the larger wolf had turned it's attention to her and it was already jumping into the are with it's claws ready to gut her from behind. But as it landed its strike on her it instead clashed with a dozen spectral blades. Some broken, others much older than the rest, and each one slightly different in size or shape. In a second she had moved forwards on the smaller wolf, she held the glaive like a dagger and let the beast's jaws clasp around her blade as she summoned a spectral Pata sword in her right hand. It became solid and real in her touch and she thrust it up and through the wolf's chest in one quick action. As it began to turn limp she let go of the pata and let the beast fall to the floor before turning around to face the largest enemy. The Bleeding Dire Wolf was staring her down, growling from the back of it's throat as Micha'el was laying clutching his side for breath still on the ground behind it. The wolf moved first and Lottie dodged, she tried to then thrust down with her glaive, like a great dagger, but the wolf turned and and threw her aside. She was lucky and landed on her feet, turning her glaive into a sword position in her left hand. She then summoned an ornate long sword, and although she held it with one hand she swung it as if it weighed less than it looked. She deflected blows with the beast, exchanging attacks and dodging a few times before it tore the long sword from her grip. It then barked at her and threw its poison onto her, burning both her arms and forcing her to retreat. She was beginning to feel tired now and the magic on her arm was about to wear off, she could feel her bite wound beginning to fill her arm with pain once again. She looked between the wolf and Micha'el several times before grunting and holding up her glaive's blade between her eyes. She shut her eyes and searched deep down, through the darkness of her mind. She thought of her father, her mother, her old home. Then she searched deeper, further back, until she saw a light. In that moment she could feel it, the spirit of somebody else coming through her body. The heat rushed from her hand holding Willow Morta and then throughout the rest of her body. When she opened her eyes she had a strange expression on her face, as if she had aged a decade, as if someone else was in control of her movements. She moved her glaive so fast it was hard to follow. She sliced up the wolf's chin in a single blow, but it came back at her as she spun elegantly and swung through the air at the wolf again, this time the blade sung through the air and slices one of it's eyes out before she performed a blackflip over the beast and landed on it's back before stabbing her glaive down into it's spine. It let out a final howl of revenge as it's jaws clapped over it's shoulder, trying to get at her one last time. Finally it sunk to the ground and it's growl faded. It was over. Lottie slumped, her eyes returning to normal as she grimaced in pain and clutched at her arm before losing balance and falling from the beast's great body. She expected to hit the ground but instead was caught by Micha'el, who had recovered and rushed over to help her. "Lottie, Lottie! Are you alright?" he looked down at her, eyes looking over her as he already started using his magic to attempt healing her wounds. She could tell already the bite was too deep for his magic. "I'm... tired" she said, "I used... to much energy bringing her forward." "I know" Micha'el said, half angry, "that's what I was afraid of." Lottie then looked up at him, his blue eyes looked through his glasses at her and she could see he was about to cry. She looked away from him, "I'm sorry" she said. "You were right... I need to learn to protect myself..." "No." Micha'el stopped her, " I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me forcing you out of your fighting style then none of this would have happened, you would have been able to fight sooner, I wouldn't have been winded and then you wouldn't have to-" "To what?" Lottie tried to say, and that's when a tear fell down his cheek as he said "then you wouldn't have to use Willow Morta's power." "But I'm fine- these wounds were from the wolves-" "You know that's not what I mean... I see it every time you use it. You... let someone else in your body. And do you know what scares me most of all? Every time you change - when you come back - i'm scared it won't be you." Lottie saw him clench his teeth together, and in that moment she felt her body become cold. So that's what this was... he didn't want her to use Willow Morta's trump card. He didn't want her to risk losing herself to the blade. "Micha'el- I'm sorry." Lottie pressed herself against his chest, feeling tears growing in her eyes as she held onto his arm with her hand even tighter. "I'll get stronger. I promise" she said. And Micha'el replied "And i'll protect you. I'll never put you in danger again. I promise." The two of them held onto each other until they heard the sound of two others rushing to the scene behind them, accompanied by the small voice of a familiar pumpkin. It was Lumina and Ivan, teachers from hope rushing to rescue them from the strange attack, with Lil P' in Lumina's hand, all fiery and pumped with Lumina's magic. Together they returned to Hope's infirmary. All that you know
You'll be leaving it behind
Look deep inside
Soon enough you'll find
The courage to win
Now you'd best be on your way
For you have a demon to slay!
Cruel fate sets in motion
And no one else knows why
Waiting for the day to come when will it show up
Claiming what's before my eyes
Now I can feel the fire burning deep within me
I'll be the hero and no one can stop me
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Posted: Sat Sep 14, 2019 4:20 pm
 The Girl Who Would Jump Through Time Radiant Bastion was a beautiful floating castle north of Entei in the South of Occulas. For some time, Alexis Truesvale has owned the bastion and has re-purposed it for one very specific goal. Time Travel. Though the castle itself is quite securely locked in one time and place, she has long had the power to open rifts through time. Albeit she risks changing everything in one breath, or may lose herself when she does so. Her scythe-staff has the ability to tear the fabric of time itself thanks to her Crystal Link used as the core. With it, she siphons small amounts of power from the Sapphire Jewel, all the way from the Obelisk. Here, in Radiant Bastion, she has overcome her limitations by tearing open portals to the past and keeping them stable thanks to the magical properties of the castle. The central hall is a large circular building with varies platforms and bridges inside. At the very bottom is one large platform with various portals held within the walls along it's edge. Each one for a separate important event in time, many of which have been involved with Zoltan Maues, she used many of these portals to clean up his mess. Now, she has a different use for them.
Alexis stormed into the hall from the great gates, which magically opened in front of her and slammed shut afterwards, echoing throughout the hall. She was wearing her usual attire, plus extra blue-died leather to cover where her skin would usually be revealed, she also had a darker blue cloak around her shoulders which flowed behind her in her hasty approach to the central platform. She approached a table and leaned over it, scowling down at the various papers spread out across it. "Lucas..." she said, almost angrily, "where the hell are you going?" She stared down for a little longer before a blue wisp of magic came into the hall from above and whistled down towards her. She raised her hand and magically ordered the magic to stop in the air above her head. She then looked up and threw it down at the table where it spiraled into a magical projection of another wizard from Entei. "News?" she asked, her eyes tired. "Yes, Grand Mage." That title was still new to her, every since Magus-Bane became gravely ill she has been handled the mantle of ruler of Entei and the Arcaz Sovereignty. Already she has made many changes. "The OCSS has made a sighting of the Lightcleaver, approximately 3 weeks ago" the wizard said. The OCSS - Outer-Cortex Space Station. Alexis ordered the base to look from the sky for sights of the Lightcleaver weeks ago. She pressed forwards on the table and eagerly asked "where?! Tell me."
"It was due course for Zakernand, specifically the furtherst glaciers in the north west. We have already made contact with the Oracle and he has confirmed he has had no interaction with Lucas since shortly after the defeat of Lucifial."
"The glaciers? But- I do not understand."
"It took our enchantments days to reform the traces, I am sorry that we have no further sightings since. But the footprint is correct - The Lightcleaver was definitely heading in that direction. It can be assumed the Lightcleaver... and Lucas, are still somewhere near the glaciers, but there are no signs of him being there as of right now."
"Thank you. You have done more than enough. I will investigate this myself-" Alexis was cut short as she heard the great gates behind her open by themselves. "Report back to me if anything else appears" Alexis quickly said before swatting away the magic and forcing the communication to end. When she turned around she saw Laxion and Ruby. "Alexis!" Laxion said, "please, rest! You've been at this search for days... weeks! You're ill with fatigue-"
"No. I'm not stopping. We've had a sighting! Lucas is still out there, somewhere! He wouldn't just vanish without telling me."
"A sighting?" Ruby asked, coming to a stop with Laxion not far from Alexis. The two of them then stopped to look around at the portals. They hadn't been here for some time, not since Alexis first showed them last year. "3 weeks ago, near Zakernand" Alexis said, already throwing her cloak behind her shoulders and pulling out her scythe-staff. "Then we can portal over!" Ruby said, "I still have a Scroll of Portal inscribed from Zakernand, we can search-"
"You're not coming with me" Alexis said, "not where I'm going..."
"Alexis! No! You're not jumping through a tear in time again, we lost you once already!"
"I know what I'm doing! I'll be back - and I'll bring Lucas with me." With that she swung her scythe and a portal ripped into existence. A tear, unstable, not like the portals in the walls, this one was like the one she jumped through years ago, thought to be dead after defeating Zoltan. After just a moment it swallowed her up before the others could save her.
Alexis was falling through the vortex of time, waiting to reach Zakernand around 3 weeks ago. She was thinking of him, thinking of the Lightcleaver, knowing she would get there. She was so determined that she was sure she would get the coordinates right. If he's here, anywhere near, her magic would draw her near him. She didn't care if this changed time - it would answer her question, and she would be able to bring him back safely. But something was wrong. She felt it was the air in her lungs stopped, it was like she couldn't breath for a few seconds. In the far distance she felt something blocking her view, but she pushed forwards. When she was spat out of the portal she landed on a snowy glacier, miles and miles away from anything. She looked down at her hairs - she was see through! How could this be? There was no time to worry about that however, she could see the Lightcleaver up ahead, it seems to have had landed on the ground and was now tilting on it's side as the balloon was becoming weighed down by the thick clumps of snow falling from above. "Lucas!" she shouted, to no response. Rushing to her feet she ran to the Lightcleaver only to discover he wasn't there, but there were footprints.
She followed them like a bloodhound looking for its prey. He was here! He was actually here! She was only 3 weeks late! She would find him now, in the past, and bring him back to the future, she had no choice! It was then that she looked behind her, noticing she left no footprints, but instead was leaving a faint, bluish glow. "Arcane?" she wondered, "yes... a signature... That can't be good." She pressed on, following the tracks to an icy cave within the glacier, it moved deeper and into darker spaces with each step, but eventually the ice began to glow, and columns were stretching from all directions. She came to some steps, realizing that this was no normal cave. Something was here. Suddenly she heard steps, and as she twisted to look above her, further down where the steps continued, she saw Lucas climbing up the path, sword in-hand. She shouted, but he didn't respond, she then ran up the steps, following him through the winding path until finally coming to his back and attempting to launch herself at him. But she passed right through him and landed on the ground with a silent thud. She breathed, panted, and began to panic. "Lucas! Lucas! What're you doing?! I'm right here, answer me!" She could see right into his eyes as he passed her, determination in his eyes, his face almost happy and proud... but in his hand. It wasn't the Purevelion Blade, no, that sword was still in its sheaf at his side. In his hand was the other blade, the one of ice... with the glowing blue eyes and the runes. Icemourne she muttered, looking into the blade. She felt it stare back, and was suddenly feeling her breath freeze again, just as it did before. And then she realised. She looked at herself again, still see-through. I've been... locked out she thought with astonishment. I'm here but... I'm not. It's like... I'm watching through a crystal ball. No matter what I do here... it will still happen! Alexis got back onto her feet, no longer would she be able to bring him back, no more could she do what so had dreamed of doing. Saving him. She would instead have to watch this all unfold and find out what happened to him.
She continued to watch him, between tears and anger, she was unsure of how to feel. Many ideas were going through her head, but it all lead to one conclusion - something brought Lucas here. That day in Otherearth, when Lucas went to the mountains and came back with []that sword, something changed. Back then she thought it was a great gift but very suddenly she was beginning to feel as though it was very different from that. The caves opened up into a huge underground lake, with a waterfall at the end where steps lead to the top, where a cliff made of ice looked over the underground lake. She paused to take in the location, but as she did Lucas continued, pressing forwards. She was only forced to move again when she heard a voice, a voice that wasn't hers or Lucas'. "Welcome... Lucas Purevelion, to my grave." The voice said, it was echoic, strong... young. "After all this time" Lucas finally said, a small grin growing on his lips, "I will resurrect you, we can bring justice to the world."
"We shall unite the world together, purge it of all evil." That voice, it was coming from above the waterfall, Alexis could actually here it! How long has Lucas known this being? For how long has it been infecting him? She ran to catch Lucas up as he neared the top and all was revealed. Placed upon the icy ground, not far from where the river of icy water was spouting from a hole, was a body. It was frosted over, but it looked like it had been recently moved here. It's features were sunken, as if it was thousands of years old but the cold had stopped it from rotting. As she held her breath she noticed the armour had elven markings... but there was something else about it that was much more sinister. There were griffon skulls on it, dark features, and its arm was outstretched, as if reaching out for something. It's face was pale, barely recognizable, but was filled with regret. "Come, Lucas! Reunited by body and soul, pledge your life to me and I promise by the blood of my people - you will see justice done!" Lucas stopped, hearing the voice of the soul that had guided him. "All your grief..." Lucas said, looking over the half-knelt body, "all your regrets. No longer will you be betrayed - Zylvanness. I pledge my life to thee, my King." Lucas then knelt before Zylvanness' body and Alexis dived on him, but the moment Lucas stretched his arm out to place Icemourne into the outstretched hand she was blown away by an unseen force. As she rolled towards the edge of the waterfall she saw as snow was blow away to clear the ice beneath them. Lucas was now knelt opposite Zylvanness, who's body was half-kneeling, half fallen to the floor. The two of them were mirroring each other, holding the blade that was now embedded in the ground between them. Alexis look up with horror, too, to see the corpse's eyes glow blue, the very same blue as was in the sword. And she saw it stare right at her.
The cave then trembled as Icemourne glowed bright blue and the bony hand tightened around the sword's hilt. It was sudden and strong and unyielding. Then the blue light swirled from the blade and into the body, filling it with some kind of... dark magic. It was not arcane, it didn't sparkle like her own magic did, like her footprints behind her, it instead flowed naturally, more like the magic she had studied the elves using. The her biggest fear played out before her very eyes. She watched as Lucus began to cry out, holding the sword tight as he squinted his eyes and bit his teeth. His very soul began to be dragged from his body, his features began to turn pale and sunken, as if the life had been sucked from him until it was locked away within the sword. Snow began to rush towards Zylvanness' corpse then and stuck to him as his body began to shift and move. Lucas fell to the ground the moment Zylvanness pulled Icemourne from his grasp, dead. Zylvanness' arose, a statue of pure snow that concealed his true image as he turned to look at Alexis. It was as though his sight weighed more than she could carry, pinning her down with an extreme force she had never known before. "Y-you b*****d! How!" she spat out. Zylvanness' snowy face did not move nor breath as he said "Though I was surprised to sense a power as strong as yours invade my sight, I was not foolish enough to let you in... entirely." Zylvanness seemed to be neither angry nor happy by Alecis' intrusion. "You were a fool to follow him, but at least now his farewell will not be a lonely one " Alexis let out a cry, a banshee's wail like no other as she tried to move her ethereal body but couldn't. "Do not worry. He has given himself to me willingly and I will do all in my power to not waste his life. He will righteously serve me... forever."
"I will end your life before that ever happens!" Alexis sneered, but Zylvanness barely reacted. "A god once said the same thing to me... and here we are. Pray that you are on the winning side of war, time traveler."
In that moment Zylvanness' form began to reveal itself. Snow flew away from him slowly, revealing his dark metal plated armour decorated with elvish runes and griffon skills. It revealed his long dark blue cape and his slim muscular features. Finally it uncovered his youthful face and long black hair, his eyes glowed blue like his magic and as he turned away she felt the weight above her vanish. She tried to jump up and attack him but before she could she felt herself being magically pulled backwards. "Return to your body now, mortal. And say goodbye." Zylvanness then held up Icemourne to Lucas' body and when the tip touched his body the light around him faded. Alexis watched in horror as his hair became grey and his eyes turned black. She saw the light around him bend and become darkness, as if he began to suck in and destroy all sources of light that came within an inch of his body. "Rise!" Zylvanness said, "My Harbinger of Justice - Mor'ethion!" Lucas then rose, reborn, and pulled out his blade. The Purevelion Blade, once so filled with light was now nothing but darkness. Alexis was then yanked backwards, unable to say or do anything else as she fell backwards and hit the ground.
Her eyes opened and she shouted for Lucas. She saw the portal hall in Radiant Bastion and over her were Laxion and Ruby. She was shouting nonsense about snow, Zylvanness, Lucas, the cursed sword, dead, alive, and many other things. Her teammates attempted to calm her down to no avail. "HE DIED! 3 WEEKS AGO HE DIED AND I COULDN'T SAVE HIM! HE KNEW, HE KNEW!" she then tried to say Zylvanness' name, but as she tried this time her lips became cold and she couldn't say it, as if she was cursed. Overcome with stress she finally gave in to crying, unable to say anything else except wail into her two best friends' arms as she thought about Lucas' death and rebirth as something else. And she couldn't even say the name of the one that killed him. 
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Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2025 10:40 am
**Blood and Cold: The Cursed and the Crownless Part 1**
The tomb was empty.
Stone walls, ancient and sweating with damp, bore the weight of millennia. Roots slithered between the cracks like veins through flesh. Large bricks had tumbled loose; shattered floor tiles lay scattered. From the ceiling, fractured stone let through thin shards of daylight. In the centre stood a large stone sarcophagus, its lid shut tight. At its head rested an armchair – painted gold, upholstered in deep red velvet. It sat atop a raised platform, regal and untouched. Unlike the rest of the tomb, it was pristine. New and out of place.
Silence reigned — until a red speck of magic shimmered above the grave.
It screamed. The shriek was sharp enough to rattle the walls, before erupting into an explosion of blood that splattered in every direction – coating the sarcophagus, the chair, and all the stone surrounding it.
The room remained silent for many more days. Weeks passed as the blood coalesced and thickened, barely moving but always shifting. Slowly, terribly, it pulled itself together: sinew, organs, shreds of cloth and glints of metal, gathering atop the sarcophagus like a parasite with purpose. At its centre, a heart began to beat.
And then – a shadow stirred. In the corner near the collapsed staircase, hidden from sight, something moved. An eye within the blood fixed on it. The figure made no sound, simply stepped forward and sat in the throne. More weeks passed. The figure, now silent and unmoving, was forgotten by the bloody mass that began to grow. The organs formed limbs. Flesh followed. Pale skin, soft features, and hair the colour of cherry blossom bloomed last. Fabric re‑knit itself, armoured edges sliding into place.
Vendeth gasped.
Her lungs drew in air like she hadn’t tasted it in centuries. With a groan, she pushed herself upright, swinging her legs over the stone ledge. Her hand lingered on it, gently caressing the surface like a memory, like a lover.
A voice came from the chair beside her.
“Hm.”
Vendeth jerked to her feet, conjuring blood into her palm – it spun and hissed in anticipation. Someone was sitting in her throne. *Her* throne. Rage surged. Then, memory caught up with her. The shadow. She had seen it before – barely – through primal eyes, in the haze of reformation. But now she remembered.
“Who are you?” she hissed. The figure crossed one slender leg over the other and leaned forward into the half‑light. Pale skin. Leather worn smooth by centuries. A tattered elven cloak draped her shoulders. Tall ears framed long hair like threads of moonlight. And her eyes – spectral blue, lit from within. “Is this any way to greet your general?” the woman said, her tone non‑chalant and cold.
“Laurenness.” Vendeth uttered. “Ameria.”
“Ameria is dead!” Vendeth spat. Ameria was weak, stupid, inept! Vendeth is strong, capable and defiant. Laurenness rolled her eyes and gestured down toward the grave. “No, she is dead.” Vendeth’s throat tightened. Blood welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. The past returned in waves – love, betrayal, the scream of steel, the silence after. She gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, “my long life has made emotion... difficult.”
“How did you find me?” she barked. “Tell me now or I’ll -”
“You’ll what? Kill me?” The words landed with weight, a fact Vendeth hated to know. Vendeth’s arms clenched around her own body – part rage, part comfort. She could not kill Laurenness. Not ever. She was not strong enough to undo the dark magics keeping her body ‘alive’.
Laurenness sat quietly, eyes unfocused, as if watching ghosts walk past. “You know I cannot die, Vendeth. Not truly.”
“Cold‑hearted b***h.”
Laurenness stood. Even without the platform, she towered over Vendeth. The hemomancer moved first – sword in hand, blade gleaming in the half‑light. She lunged. But Laurenness was faster. Her hand caught the sword mid‑strike. Cold, corpse‑blood – dark and violet – oozed between her fingers and down the edge of the blade. "You fight me like I'm him." She holds the sword's tip, unmoved. "But I am his sister, not his shadow." Cold‑Hearted, Laurenness thought. A mockery of life. A weapon forged by him. "Do not think of me as some walking corpse you can so easily cut down." She pulled the blade from Vendeth’s hands and let it clatter to the stone. Vendeth staggered back, trembling, teeth clenched.
“You forget I know how phylacteries work,” she said calmly. “Yours may be twisted, defiled... but it is still what it is.” She nodded to the grave. “I don’t know what you’ve done to her body - but it anchors you. This is where you’ll return when you are defeated” Vendeth cursed, low and breathless, holding her head as if to smother a storm inside.
Laurenness’s voice softened. “Vendeth. Enough of this. Take a seat beside me, as you once did in the forests of Autumnset.” She gestured to Vendeth's throne behind her.
Vendeth froze. A flicker of the past brushed her mind. A warmth not felt in an age. Laurenness’s gaze drifted to the throne. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It reminds me of Alfheim... when it was alive. Do you remember? The dancing? The waltzing of partners‑in‑arms. The ever‑amber leaves.” Laurenness thought then of the place above their heads, surrounding the tomb. A once thriving city made of wood as hard as stone. Trees as large as skyscrapers, canopies of amber-gold. Now it was forgotten, empty, grey and dead.
Vendeth nodded slowly. “I do.” She then sat upon the throne, one leg slung over the arm of the chair like a girl half‑remembering who she once was. “Why are you here?” she asked, her tone confident, her previous grievances momentarily controlled.
Laurenness stepped down from the platform, bowing her head gently toward the grave before turning to face Vendeth. "You know why I'm here."
"No, I do not." Vendeth firmly ordered. "You show up after two millennia and expect me to know why you're watching my corpse reform itself." But Laurenness' features, already sharp and pale, became heavier. Vendeth felt a void rise within his chest, silently preparing herself for what was to come. Something she dreaded and hoped for her entire life.
"He's back, Vendeth."
The words carried a weight so large that she could barely hold herself up on the chair. Silence fell, and while Laurenness waited patiently, Vendeth could have turned to stone. "I feel my brother's presence - searching for me, calling me. He is summoning the Cold Hearted that remain scattered outside of his realm, though few that may be..." Laureness waited a few more moments, watching Vendeth remain motionless. She knew what she had to say now to finally make it sink in. She took in a deep breath and uttered his name, emphasizing each syllable like it was wound to her skin.
"Zylvanness."
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