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 Posted: Sun Dec 05, 2021 7:17 pm
Strange to keep moving, knowing half his body wasn't his anymore. The parts he was born with, scattered to the fields after the generator blast, then — what? Where had they gone? He could only guess the ambulances showed, the police and firemen followed, they found the parts but not the whole. John Doe'd the lot of it, black bagged and tagged and left in cold storage for a weeping pair of parents to never come and claim. Would remain until rot set in, or until the department's constant budget cuts forced a deal with a knockoff medical school.
Now he lived by nothing short of magic. It was familiar, and not. Faustite knew he'd been impossibly alive since his promotion to General confiscated his organs. Knew the growth of the youma within him supplanted all those useless, meaty things, but the magic that sustained him now was of an austere sort. It wasn't Negaverse magic. It wasn't the transient, ineffectual nonsense cast by their enemies, either. And Taenite couldn't tell him anything about it.
All investigations met with more questions than he could sustain, so Faustite left the lot of it behind. Went walking on legs that weren't his, though they still obeyed him. Felt the night air course over his too-hot face and tangle in his hair, lift his cape away from his uniform and billow his fire back behind him. Let the wind rob him of his smoke as he paced long, invisible ley lines into the tops of Destiny City's uneven sets of teeth. Walked and listened and walked some more.
As he passed by the blinking red glare of a traffic signal, his mind cast to transience. To the people that were once with the Negaverse, for better or not. Thought of Schörl, of Auë. Thought of Heliodor. Thought of Cybele. Thought of Nembus, who stopped answering his calls, who wouldn't be summoned. Thought of Squiddy, whose ink still remained in his possession.
As he kept walking, he thought: the experience that opens you is the opposite of a wound. Didn't the world come pouring through?
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2021 6:20 am
Cybele wanted to rip Commodore Lyndin's throat out with her fingernails. There was no question that she'd almost died in the battle. When she'd woken up in Axinite's office, her body had already been crisscrossed with scars, and she'd been stabbed, since, but the gash across her ribs made all those old wounds look like paper cuts. There had also been the blood loss, and the concussion. She'd pushed herself back to work at the children's theater faster than she probably should have, but when it came to fighting, she was trying to be more careful. She'd promised her friends and family that she wouldn't go out hunting until she could move without something hurting. The promise had her impatiently sitting around on couches for over a month, with little to do besides fantasize about the visceral things she was going to do to a growing list of people. Lyndin was at the top of that list, of course. She'd ambush him somehow. He'd gasp for air as he died. That sweet-talking liar wouldn't get any more words out on her watch. Laurelite was probably the other person most responsible for what had gone down on the hilltop that night, but it somehow seemed risky to even daydream about murdering her. When Cybele thought of the Negaverse, she tended to think about Generals, instead. Perhaps she could snap the neck of that traitor-hunting one who had been looking hungrily at Ganymede and leave his corpse at the feet of the other murderer, the one she had a more personal vendetta against. That would give him a taste of his own medicine. Perhaps the battles in her head where she was always victorious made her a bit bolder than she should have been when she finally returned to the streets. She approached the General's aura without a moment's hesitation, at a full sprint, her fists curled white-knuckled at her sides. She only slowed down when she saw the red glow of flames licking through false ribs. "Faustite!" she called out at him from across the intersection. Her voice was sharp and her eyes cold. He actually wasn't one of the ones she'd been thinking about so much in recent weeks, but that did not mean he was any less dangerous. She remembered the way that he'd talked about draining planets for Mettalia right before the aliens had shown up with their weapon that did just that. She glared at him a few seconds more, then asked, "What are you doing?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2021 3:43 pm
When he heard Her voice, he stopped. He did not freeze; it was a gradual motion to slow and stop, like a guttering frame, and he half-turned to witness her there. Senshi of the Hunt, with reds cast down over her pale colors as the traffic signal blinked out its monotonous morse code.
He remembered her and Sylvite, then — how they argued, how they fought. He remembered the phrase, waiting to die. He remembered Albite chittering excitedly about a fight with a Deer, waged on a battle that Ashanite called into existence, and he remembered heated flame burning his ribcage as Albite crowed about it. As Albite neglected to tell him, in the midst of battle, that Cybele was there.
Now, he wouldn't have to look.
"Clearing my head," he answered as he brought a hand up to his ribs. "Something you've done twice now."
Then he wicked out from existence, and flame rekindled near the base of the traffic light. Leaning against it, fire clamored up the pull before recoiling back to the boy's cage, then ventured out again.
"Should ask the same of you. You're alone, and very easy to corrupt."
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Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 8:05 am
It wouldn't take much to bait Cybele tonight, not when she was out hunting for necks to snap. Her eyes rolled when Faustite said he was trying to clear his head. "I don't believe your head's been clear for a moment, you schemer," she hissed as he teleported forwards, squinting as the heat from his midsection hit her straight in the face. He'd more or less prophesied to her last time they'd met. Metallia had, with help, gotten her fingers on energy from a dead world to use for her twisted purposes. Cybele wondered what his next awful prediction would be. Her stomach twisted at his next words. "I'd be useless corrupted," she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Weak, and reckless enough I'd be dead within a month if my starseed didn't just shatter in the first place." Saying that did not stop the way her heart was beating faster. She wouldn't put it about Faustite or some of the others to try anyway, just to prove a point. "And anyway, you'd have to catch me first." The light blinked. Cybele sprang forwards to close the last of the distance between them, fist flying towards his face.
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Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 9:07 am
Weak — that could be fixed. Pump enough chaos into her and she'd never be weak again.
Reckless — another easy fix. Between a youmaglia or a youmafication, they wouldn't have to worry over such things.
But she was right that he had to catch her, and he doubted a Super Senshi could outrun a General that could teleport. Doubted all the more, when she came at him, that she was even thinking about running away.
As she flung her fist at him, the Youma General melted into fire. Rivulets of flame danced around her, braided up about her form in taunting glee. "When do you start running?" Asked his disembodied voice.
"Too slow to give me a challenge. Bet you miss all that power. Shame the White Moon confiscated it from you."stari_maga not actually attacking her, but for clarity's sake, here's the skill: Hellborn ;;
Range: Self
Duration: Up to 1 minute
Use Count: Up to 3x
Miss Chance: Escaping his reach
Effect: Faustite's fire expands and engulfs him, transforming him into a living embodiment of flame. For the duration of this magical ability, he appears fully youmafied. When he moves, he moves amorphously as a gout of fire. Faustite can pass through or over nonsolid surfaces, and cannot be hit by physical attacks. He becomes highly susceptible to magical attacks and enchantments, however. Any attacks he makes toward others will be fire property, and will provide the illusion of being burned.
Note:This form is non-pyrogenic.
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Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 9:28 am
Cybele's eyes went wide as her fist went into a column of flame. She didn't remember fighting Faustite before. All she remembered was what he'd said about his abilities at the Farnsworth briefing, where he'd pointed out that he was on fire. She hadn't thought that he'd meant being on fire like this. Her arm ribbons blackened. Cybele pulled her scorched hand back with a hiss. She stepped back, too, to get a better look at the creature in front of her, but she did not run. She called on her basic magic instead, letting the bow form in her hands and holding it steady, waiting. "When are you going to catch me?" she shot back. "It doesn't look like you're solid enough to hold much of anything right now."
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Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 11:00 am
Reformed, he was fire in the shape of human, with skin flowing free at his back. Only the grate remained, blackened amidst all that light, and his face was only half as much, as if bisected at the midpoint. Even without eyes, he was still able to watch her.
He remembered something of her attack, as she summoned her bow to hand. She'd shot no arrows at him. No, that was something for her ally at the time —
Faustite scoffed, then surged forward as a gout of flame. He dropped that form to teleport to her six.
Reformed in cloak and fury, he reached for her back. "Now," he seethed.
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Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2021 2:31 pm
She loosed the arrow skyward when she saw him teleport. Usually, she held out on using her magic until her enemy was tired out, or until things got desperate. She didn't think she could get away with that this time. The ethereal arrow fell back down quickly, making the air around Cybele shimmer green for a moment and allowing her senses to snap into sharper focus. She heard the crackle of flame die down, just a bit. She felt the weight of human bootsteps on the ground behind her, and she couldn't help a small, bitter smile at that. Her taunting had worked. He'd called off the magic, given her something to punch. She felt the air shift as he moved behind her, and she kicked backwards, and, for good measure, threw a sharp elbow backwards before she whirled around.
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Posted: Wed Dec 29, 2021 4:02 pm
Her kick backward caught his grate. Pity for that, he thought, as it jaunted his body to an awkward angle. Seconds would pass before he'd feel the way it throbbed through his ribs, his hips.
The elbow struck him, too, caught him in the shoulder. Hissed some air, and there it was — two hurts in tandem. He shifted, grabbed for her bare arm with his off hand. Felt the fire in him roil and twist —
Swaths of her arms and legs were unprotected for his magic, for the unpleasant nature of his body. She would be an easy burn, though now she was on par with him. Pity for that.
Pity for her leaving, but she wouldn't be leaving twice.stari_maga On fire ;;
Range: Self
Duration: Constant
Use Count: N/A
Miss Chance:
Effect: There's a fire in the center of this boy. It's caged, but it gives off light and heat and generally confers attributes that one would expect from fire. He does not like being used as a stove.
In combat, Faustite is easy to spot via his internal light source. His temperature risks burns to the degree of player's choice. If the player has no preference, assume third degree with prolonged physical contact or second degree with normal combat contact. He can intentionally light flammable things and be used for the same properties of normal fire (eg this property can be used against him).
If the fire is completely extinguished, he dies. He needs to eat and do other tasks to fuel the flame. The general rule is: the more he heats, the more he eats.
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Posted: Sat Jan 01, 2022 9:00 am
With her heightened senses, Cybele felt the way that Faustite flinched even though her wild kick had hit metal instead of flesh. As she turned to face him, she glanced down for a spit second towards his midsection. The cage around his midsection was delicate, bordering on spindly in a few places. Those ribs, she thought, had to be easier to break than bones. Then he grabbed her, and for a moment, everything was pain and only pain. She choked on a hiss as the skin of her arm reddened and blistered under his grip. For some reason, she hadn't been expecting his hands to burn. While her magic lasted, she drove knee towards his midsection. That would hurt, too, but pain was better than death, or worse. Cybele grit her teeth.
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Posted: Tue Jan 11, 2022 9:19 am
Felt the gamble of holding onto her for how hard she struck him — grunted for it once already, but his voice tore into his breath when he felt and heard a pop in his middle. Knew it must've been a rib for his his breathing was at once so needy. Oh, the profanity he had for that.
Knew it was better to see to a broken bone than continue to tango with a Super. Felt stupid for it, too — if he retreated from her, who would take him seriously? Would anyone? Would he?
The firebed for his life sizzled over with energy that finally burst from his core in a wicked firestorm. Then he pushed her, and felt the recoil for how his muscles pulled for where his rib should've been.
"Just breathe," he muttered around a rasping draw of breath. "See how it feels." stari_maga Meltdown ;;
Range: 10' radius around user
Duration: Up to 30 seconds
Use Count: Up to 2x
Miss Chance: Escaping range at or before the buildup stage
Effect: By expending some of his core, Faustite can whip up a firestorm on a local area, prefaced by dancing cinders seconds before the burst. Inferno gusts orbit clockwise, burning anyone caught in their whorl. Friendly fire possible.
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Posted: Thu Jan 13, 2022 4:04 pm
She wondered for a moment when she made impact if she was being stupid,with how he might not even notice that she was snapping at his metal bits. He hissed after, though, and that brought a hint of grim smile to Cybele's face. He'd tried something, she'd broken him. At least that one promise had some teeth to it. Although even as he was pushed away, the air seemed to grow hotter. She glimpsed a spark or two flying on a sudden breeze. Deep inside of her, some half remembered instinct told her to get away, now.She didn't fight the urge. She stepped back, but it wasn't fast enough. Everything was on fire within an instant. Her skin screamed. Her eyes watered. Her clothes started to singe around the edges. With a gasp of pain, Cybele took Faustite's advice to breathe without trying too, and then her lungs were on fire, too. She kept scrabbling backwards, her eyes squeezing shut, now, just trying to get away.
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Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2022 11:40 am
She could lay there and burn.
Better that he watch himself. Faustite took a few measured breaths as he approached her at a slow pace. His rib complained terribly, as expected — a mounting soreness laced with a urning, throbbing pain, like a drum line to his march — but he cared less for that than he did for his breathing. At the crest of each breath, however, he felt a sharp, digging pain. Something that reached deep, that caused him to startled out a harsh, wordless syllable. A hand tented over the injury.
He paused in his approach only when he coughed. His free hand covered his mouth, and the head-clearing pain that came afterward paused his breath. He tasted metal. Pulled his hand away.
Something shined on his hand in the firelight. Crouching down had hurt terribly, but it was easier to reach the slow-cooked traitor. He wiped the palm of his hand across her face — looked like a streak of grease, as if she were some kind of interstellar mechanic.
"You'll live," he consoled around the pain that held his breath. "You'll misstep. And you'll sell out your allies, one by one, with every innocent mistake." Then he vanished, and with him went the firestorm.stari_maga fin? can edit if needed heart
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