>Xavier: Get some unwanted attention. GS neglects to join you in your frantic arm-waving, choosing instead to discreetly remain behind the half-demolished doorway. He's sure that you?ve got the whole situation under control. Good luck with all that.
Anyway.
The last reverberations of your ear-piercing whistle slowly peter out, their dying echo growing softer and softer. As the cry finally fades away, the two figures flying about the chamber screech to a halt, their forms finally settling in the center of the room, directly before the ruined throne. For the first time, you're able to get a decent glance at them, their bodies still enough to actually be seen.
The first combatant gapes at you, an abject look of desperation and horror spreading across her features. Standing at least head and shoulders above you, clad in a white t-shirt, black pants, and a dark baseball cap, likely somewhere in her mid-twenties, she looks like she could be someone's older sis. However, any speculation on her possible siblings is quickly pushed out of your head, as the seriousness of her physical state hits you.
Her clothes are covered with rips and tears, scarlet stains spreading across her shirt with each passing second. Her exposed skin is covered by cuts, scrapes, and bruises, her arms and neck a tapestry of pain and agony. A shock of brown hair hangs around her head, spread out in total disarray, sticky with sweat and blood. Heavily angled sunglasses, one of its lenses cracked, the other missing entirely, dangle haphazardly from a single ear; her other one seems to missing. A brown eye stares at you, its stare unmistakably communicating the depths of her exhaustion and despair.
Despite her frightful condition, however, and what appears to be a dislocated shoulder, she's clearly not ready to give up. Her fists still clench twin lengths of steel chain in an unshakable grip, a metal dodecahedron swinging from each of the steel lengths, while her legs are braced against the ground, tensed and ready to move.
Your gaze shifts to her opponent, and your heart stops for an instant. The aura of malice and bloodlust that pours off the Black Queen spills throughout the massive chamber, a maelstrom of hate and rage. Just by looking at her, a tremble forces its way into your hands, your twin knives rattling as your grasp begins to shake. This entity is no mere soldier or underling; she is a monarch, the absolute ruler of this entire world.
Her body is an amalgamation of eclectic and seemingly unrelated items and themes: A right arm ripped straight from some anime about mechas and robots, a ring covered with glowing orbs set upon its finger. A left made of some plastic material, shrouded in scraps of black cloth, its metallic fist wrapped tight around an obsidian wrench just barely shorter than yourself. A dark scarf that seems to blow in an unfelt breeze adorns her neck, seemingly made of the same material as her clothes, some kind of substance that shines disgustingly. Although, her hair really isn't that intimidating; it looks kind of silly honestly, it's just so frizzy!
Time stands still for a moment, as the two combatants in the center of the room simply stare at you, their various limbs and armaments locked with each other's bodies. The only sounds you can hear is your own breath, and the ever-increasing tempo of your heartbeat. A slight tremor shakes the room, as though something close by just exploded.
With a flash of black and white, time resumes its normal rate. You're just barely able to see the Black Queen move first, her monochromatic form darting towards you with nearly unmatchable speed, a single leg aiming straight for your gut, enough force behind it to snap you in two. There?s no time to block, no time to dodge, no time to do anything but watch your doom rush closer and closer.
Then, your vision is obscured by a field of white; the girl has jumped in front of you, her teeth gritted and arms crossed as she blocks the assault meant for you. At least, she?s in front of you until the force of the blow fully hits her. Unable to brace herself, she flies backwards, cursing as she knocks you aside and hurtles into the hallway. Stumbling, you bring yourself to a halt, spinning to face your foe.
Crack.
A metal hand slams into the side of your head, cruel fingers digging into your skin. You feel your jaw crack as the Black Queen's grasp tightens, pain lancing through your bones. Your hands reflexively attempt to grab her arm, wrapping uselessly around the black steel as your weapons clatter to the ground.
You're dimly aware of the wind whistling by your body, cool air enveloping you as you and the Black Queen hurtle across the room. With a bone-shattering crunch, your skull is slammed into the wall, a small crater forming around your head as the Queen grinds you into the stone.
"Brat."
With a flick of her wrist, Derse's ruler hurls you through the air, your limp body bouncing along the ground with incredible force. You finally slide to a halt, nearly twenty yards away, every fiber of your being groaning in agony. Unarmed, heavily injured, and barely able to breathe, you're only able to watch as your foe approaches you, her wrench dragging along the ground.
"Did you really intend to challenge me like this? Pathetic."
As you weakly attempt to struggle to your knees, the Queen wraps her fist around your throat, lifting you into the air. Your vision begins to fade away, an endless void spreading out before you as your breath empties. Soon, all you can see are twin pools of white, the eyes of your enemy, roiling with hate and anger.
[small]"Run, Hero. This cannot be the end."[/small]
Suddenly, an enormous icosahedron, its faces scored with various numbers, spins into your vision, slamming into the Queen's head. Your body drops to the ground, as the Queen's grasp loosens in response to the blow, her frizzy hairdo doing nothing to soften it. Air rushes back into your empty lungs, as the woman from earlier reengages her foe. Pushed onto the defensive for once, the Black Monarch can only react to the assault, knocking aside and dodging the rain of attacks.
Within a few seconds, the two combatants have resumed their deadly dance, the force of their blows sending shockwaves through the air. As you begin to slowly, painfully rise to your feet, GS darts out from behind the door, grabs you by the scruff of your purple robes, and pulls you out of the room.
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>Dirk: Kick ass and takes names.
Your time warping maneuvers effectively confuse your burning enemy; the living fire seems to look back and forth, staring at both you and the HAKURO SHADOW. It?s clearly unsure of whom to attack, its blade dropping to its side, as you and your partner rocket toward it, your blades slicing through the air.
Shishi Sonson.
As the two blades cleave through its neck, the being?s "head" flips off its body, the collection of flames spinning upwards and slowly dispersing. Simultaneously, the entity?s body begins to fall apart as well, sparks and tongues of fire falling away, slowly growing smaller and smaller. Within a few short seconds, nothing remains of your foe, except for the heat that lingers in the massive chamber.
The HAKURO SHADOW slowly fades into nothingness as well, globs of darkness flowing from it back into your blade. Soon, you are the only one standing in the arena, sore, sweating, and exhausted, but victorious.
Never has leveling up felt so good.
Level 49 Hellkite Spade!
With little else to do, you store your weapon and jetpack up to the stone platform, alighting on the floating dais without challenge. As your feet land, the platform begins to rise upwards, floating towards a hole in the ceiling of the chamber.
The descent finishes fairly soon, and you find yourself in yet another darkened chamber, lit only by glowing runes that cover the walls, floor, and ceiling. They seem to dance back and forth, constantly shifting, changing, moving around in around in patterns that you can only begin to grasp, the full impact of their meaning lost on you.
"You survived, I see. Well done."
Turning about, you quickly spot the origin of the rusted voice: Daedalus stands before you, his gears clicking and turning, black ichor pulsing through his veins and tubes. His face is set in a lifeless expression as he stares down at you, its eclectic visage betraying not a hint of emotion as he continues to speak.
"I have done as you requested: An artifact that will allow you to release your full potential."
The being's enormous metal arm stretches towards you, something wrapped tightly in its iron grasp. You bend forward to inspect the item, and as the steel fingers unfurl, you're able to fully examine it.
In Daedalus' grasp is a sole piece of armor, plate mail forged from some unknown black metal. Starting with an oversized pauldron and ending with an ornate gauntlet, the piece seems to be perfectly sized for your right arm, assuming that some clothes or padding will be worn underneath. Archaic runes have been scored into the surface the armor, strange shapes and figures that surely carry some deep meaning; though most you have never seen before, two you recognize.
Set into the shoulder with utmost detail are a pair of triangles, outlined in fiery orange. The two polygons meet in the middle, their tips merging into one in the center of the massive pauldron, forming a shape that you're more than familiar with. It's the same shape as the glasses your SIS, that one puppeteer guy, or the GREAT AND MANLY KAMINA refuse to be seen without. A symbol of manliness incarnate, one that perseveres even through the darkest of days and blackest of nights.
Moving down, the back of the gauntlet is inscribed with a perfect spiral, a single line that curves around and around and around and around. An infinite sign, eternal and everlasting, representing the unending power stored in the soul of every man, woman, and child. It pulses with an emerald glow, gently now, but some part of you knows that this is but a fraction of what it's truly capable of.
Reverently, you take the object from Daedalus' palm, its light weight a welcome surprise to your aching arms. As your hands grasp its smooth sides, the armor seems to resonate in your grasp, as though it recognizes you and is calling out.
?UZAMAKI'S ARM.?
The Denizen?s voice cuts through your enraptured state, as you bring your gaze back up to him. "It allows its bearer to tap into unparalleled power and might, the true potential of your race. Use it when it seems that all hope is lost, and you might yet emerge victorious.
"But," Daedalus takes on a cautioning tone as he continues, "do not imagine that such strength comes without price. Nothing is ever free, Hero."
His brief speech done, the Denizen waves his arm through the air, his fingers seeming to grip nothingness as he drags them down. A slight ripping noise pervades the air, and reality is torn. Before you lies a small portal, filled with an azure, shimmering light, unconnected to anything, simply floating in midair.
"If you have no further business here, then I would advise that you leave. This will take you to your home."
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>Greg: Be the Hero. Get that Tiger. While you would be more than happy to get a tiger at some point in your adventures (Because tigers are awesome), you fail to see how you can possibly get one right now. You just stepped through the Gate, ended back up in the same patch of middle of nowhere you always do, and have no glubbing clue where to go next. Seriously, there aren?t even any SALAMANDERS around here, let alone tigers.
Well, here you are again, somewhere out in the Land of Frogs and Castles. You've got a spring in your step, a song in your heart, and a clock ticking slowly ticking down until your MOM gets executed by the Black Queen. There's a whole planet full of possibilities stretching out before you, ripe for the picking! What's the plan?
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>Chas and Rich: Say hi to the well-dressed individual. Right, this awkward pause is kind of stretching on a bit too long. What say we shake things up a bit, eh?
"Oh, hold on a minute! I'll be right down!"
Though the statue he's perched on is massive, seemingly towering to the heavens themselves, the emerald figure wastes no time in his descent, simply leaping off into thin air. As gravity grabs hold of him, he whistles towards the ground, approaching the two of you at an alarming velocity.
With the thunder of cracking stone heralding his arrival, the figure lands directly in front of you, the earth around him obliterated into a sizeable crater. Stepping through the cloud of dust he has kicked up, your mysterious greeter presents himself. "Hello there, nice to meet you. What brings you two young lads to this derelict hellhole?"
The man stands easily two feet above the two of you, clad in a lime-green tuxedo with a white dress shirt underneath, a pitch-black bowtie completing his strangely colored ensemble. Unlike every other figure that seems to inhabit the Medium, his carapace is neither black nor white, mainly because he doesn?t seem to have a carapace.
Nope, this guy's a flesh and blood? human maybe? His grey skin certainly isn't something that you?ve ever seen before, and his pure white hair looks downright weird on someone who isn't hundreds of years old or from some stupid anime. And his eyes? they've got no pupils whatsoever, milky and without feature, like someone stuck a pair of marbles in his face. Still, judging by the fact that he?s clearly staring right at you, you're more than willing to bet that he can see.
The odd man never fails to smile, as he introduces himself. "The name?s Nox, though my friends have an odd habit of calling me whatever they feel like." he says, as he gives you a quick bow. "So, just shout out whatever you want to; odds are I?ll respond."
