"42"
Bowser wacked Rey upside the head again. If Rey wasn't going to return to the land of the sane, then he might as well try useing insane logic.
This would be reperesented by random phrases and constant head thumping.
To be seen, stand up To be heard, speak up To be appreciated, shut up"I believe you."
He laid a hand on the Doctor's shoulder.
"I believe you, my friend."
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023"I hope he didn't use up all the ammo I gave him."
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!"And so do I," declared Galen.
The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground— Megatron grimaced under this assault, simply increasing the force of his grip sufficiently to crush diamonds, all while tugging the stinger sideways. He gave the freakish thing another heavy kick to the torso, activating the jets set into his boot, his right hand snaking out to pull on what passed for the entity's face, metal fingers probing and poking for eyes. —
Ohhohohohohohohoho! boy, This Ain't A Fight. This Is Takin' Out The Trash To Burn.
—
The dervishes whooshed over to Quingenti's sides, making an odd whistling noise as they went, blades glinting from within their sanguine depths. They boxed the Roman in, all while the scythe sliced down at his left shoulder.
Two more dervishes appeared in the room, whistling and clanking around the frozen Challengers like hounds sniffing over bodies. When passing the outraged, like Kisame, a quiet rattling of chains could heard from the things.—
Proud member of the IAA What's the point of being grown up if you can't act childish?The Doctor just keeps shuddering. "I used guns... I shot the shadows... I don't use guns. I NEVER use guns... Is it that easy to make me break my code?"
To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy"It seems." Narumi said, breaking his multi-paged silence.
"Congatulations, Doctor Langley," Gordon said, averting his eyes instinctively. "You did good."
Quingenti was unable to dodge the scythe, which sliced through his shoulder and severed his left arm entirely. As opposed to blood, dark mist rose from the wound and the disembodied limb. The roman nomad let out a grunt, and recoiled.
"I'm more difficult to kill then this," Quingenti said. "This form is a construct..."
His remaining arm split into thousands of articulated needles.
Blink was incapable of moving her hands to see what was going on around her, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. She instead just listened to the sounds of whirling blades and chains.
"Oh, dear. The toad, the monkey, and the dog have all screwed up."Even as the champions took in Dr. Langley's state of undress, clothes seemed to weave themselves into existence from thin air, providing her with some modesty as she accepted Link's hand and rose to her feet.
Applause rang out, breaking the relative quiet of this becalmed mindscape, and Dis Baba stepped forward. "A triumph, to be sure," the Kin overlord rasped, "and one deserving of proper 'recompense'."
The alien held out his hand, palm facing upward, and the black smoke that was all which remained of Dr. Langley's shadowy tormentors coalesced there with a dull roar. The noxious fumes flowed together, fusing and solidifying into a hazy, translucent key made of what seemed like obsidian; its teeth formed a simple, capitalized E, and parts of the shaft were flecked with veins of red which glowed ominously. It hovered an inch above the alien's dessicated hand, gently revolving under its own power like a weathervane caught in a light breeze, and faint whispers and murmurs which were barely audible seemed to emanate from its dark length
"Behold—the 'key' to victory, and 'liberation'. Take, and quickly, before we rouse the 'suspicions' of our captors."
A deafening bellow of mental anguish rang out from Arklenzidath as Bolas struck the final blow, sundering the dragon's mind; as the demiplane grew still and devoid of life, the argent wyrm's serpentine form fell from the sky to lie insensate upon the broken earth. For a few moments, all was silent; then a faint hissing filled the air as the silver coils of the vegetative beast slowly began to dissolve, cohesion coming apart first at the tip of his tail and then gradually spreading across the rest of his length. The process seemed to accelerate as it went on, and within a matter of seconds not a drop of blood, nor ruined whisker, nor even a discarded scale remained to indicate that Arklenzidath had ever been there.
Once his opponent was gone, the pocket plane around Bolas collapsed in on itself, and the Elder Dragon found himself once again in that dark, shrouded realm where his senses were blinded and his supply of mana restricted to whatever lay within his own body. The three red lights which made up the face of his captor had not returned, though its distorted voice could be heard, growls and hisses of anger coming from every direction.
A dry crack rang out as Megatron finally succeeded in cracking the creature's stinger, and it lowed in pain and anger at this affront. Its agitated bellows transformed into a whump as his boot connected with its amorphous underbelly, driving the breath from its lungs, and as the heat of the Decepticon's jet thrusters washed over it the diminutive leviathan burst into flames.
His attack on the monster's face met with markedly less success, alar; being particularly akin to a manta in that respect, its broad expanse was simply too wide for him to get at both the eyes at once—and even aflame and dying, it was not simply about to roll over and let Megatron do whatever he pleased. The beast's cavernous maw opened wide and closed over the Decepticon's probing hand, and even though it was toothless it still had incredibly powerful muscles within its jaws; it began to gnaw and bite down on the appendage, intending to crush the servoes and manipulators.
The Danse Macabre CodexThe Doctor takes the key. "So... what's next."
To Be Updated when I'm not LazyMason realizes something is happening in the Common Room.
"What the fuck is going on?"
"Dunno. But it sounds big, and like it's going to be a problem." Hope looked around, then ran off to find the source of the noise.
"Yup. That tasted purple.""Indeed. Much remains unexplained and we have little time. Will you at least tell us how this key is meant to be used?"
A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. -Lao Tzu"When the time comes, you will know," Dis Baba replied. He glanced at Dr. Langley then, and the smile slowly vanished from his lips, leaving his expression unreadable; for hr part, the red-headed scientist met his stare with a defiant glare, as if to say "who are you, and what the hell are you looking at?"
Chittering faintly under his breath, the alien held up one hand, cocking it as though to snap his fingers. "Suffice it to say, it is not merely your own liberty which will be attained with this 'key'; there is another prison who requires release and freedom. Do not burden yourselves with such concerns at the moment, though; for now, it is time for you all to wake up."
And with that enigmatic pronouncement, the Kin overlord snapped his fingers—and the inverted, greyscale expanse of Dr. Langley's mindscape vanished from sight as the champions returned to their bodies.
In the real world, Dr. Langley suddenly sat up with a deep gasp, eyes wide as she brought a hand up to her throat. "Wha...what just happened?" she asked of no one in particular.
"You tell me," Ravage growled in reply, sweeping his gaze across the rest of the unconscious mob. Sure enough, now that the scientist had awakened, all those who had rushed to her aid were beginning to regain consciousness.
The Danse Macabre Codex"We will explain on the way to the desert," Jack said to Ravage, sitting up and rubbing his head. He felt a little unsteady from the effects of the mental journey. Noticing his sword laying close by, he picked it up and sheathed it once more. "Doctor, do you still have the key?"
edited 28th May '11 11:58:40 AM by RedCedar
A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. -Lao TzuMason followed Hope.
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!"You all fell down in a pile like weirdos. I was starting to wonder if it was an adult thing." Flandre said as she floated over the now waking group.
Gordon sat up slowly, rubbing his head.
"Well... that was an experience," he said. "Whew... Doctor Langley, you feeling alright?"
"Oh, dear. The toad, the monkey, and the dog have all screwed up."Kimimaro got to his feet. "Doctor" he said to the Time Lord. "Perhaps I should hang onto the Key? You are... less skilled in self-defense than I or some others of us, and are at thus greater risk to fall in battle, potentially losing us the Key. I or Jack-san or perhaps Ravage-san should hang onto the Key, since we're better able to defend ourselves and more likely to survive the coming battles."
Bendy Slendy in Upendi. Also, check out my ficThe Doctor hands it to Jack. "Good idea Kimimaro. Now... if Jack goes the way of Rey take the key from him. We can not lose the key to madness."
edited 28th May '11 12:07:10 PM by Fusionman
To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy— The hacked off arm was dragged into one of the dervishes and shredded by barbed chains. Laughter came from the empty air around the scythe as it waved around.—
You Think I'd Fight You without The Chance Of Killing Fer Real, boy?
—The scythe aimed for Quingenti's chest this time, a sideways slash.—
—Megatron's grimace shifted into a smirk as he dug in with his servotips.—
Yesss.
— He increased the pressure of his grip until the servos punctured the tissue of the beast's mouth and hooked in. The war machine yanked it forward while simultaneously driving his jet-burning boot harder and deeper into the belly of the creature with another kick. —
Proud member of the IAA What's the point of being grown up if you can't act childish?Jack carefully accepted the key, bowing formally.
"I will guard it with my life. It is our salvation, if what we have been told is true. And I concur. If I fall to madness, get it away from me as quickly as possible." He conspiciously tucked it into an inner pocket of his robe.
A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. -Lao TzuRey glanced up, then over, and wandered over to Gordon, crouching and taking hold of his hand, putting the scientist's glasses in his grip, grinning. "I didn't want you to see the sky fairy things by mistake when you woke up." That being said, he got up, giving Bowser another slightly incredulous look, and started to wander off a bit.
Easing back into life one step at a time
Bolas cracked open his maw in a draconic grin. "Well met indeed. To you the best, Arklenzidath. May this be a battle I will remember for the rest of my undoubtedly long life." His own talons flexed with orbs blue and red, elemental energies infusing him even as white intermingled. He brought to mind a set of spells he recorded for later use; there were several 'presets', in so many words, that he liked to use battling other planeswalkers. If this creature was a first amongst dragons, Bolas would let him feel a dragons wrath. The 'deck', as some may call it, was based in Red and Blue for the classic four elements, with White thrown in to ensure proper victory. This wasn't a foe he could drive Black's bargains against, he was sure.
As soon as the match began, a seemingly endless amount of space yawned open between them, and the two found each other on opposite sides of a very large island. Each was centered in an area arranged to their own needs, the terrain shaped as they saw fit to provide the right combination of mana. Bolas situated himself on a rocky coastline, mountains and hard ridges teeming with Red dividing an ocean of Blue from the fertile White plains that comprised the field on which their forces would do battle. The dragon sat in the middle of his territory atop a large fortification◊, looking out to the terrain his opponent called home. It was like his in the vaguest sense; how the plains slowly gave way to the sea, though instead of Bolas' sudden hard transition providing mana directly opposed to the other two concepts, Arklenzidath was dwelling in the center of a large forest, which obscured his gentler, sandy beaches from the battlefield.
As Bolas conjured a force of specters to defend his castle, he saw materialize a small army of creatures that appeared frighteningly blank. Their sleek, featureless forms looked as if they begged to be adapted for Arklenzidath's needs, to be made into perfect killing machines through sheer spontaneous evolution. Slivers, Bolas remembered; a superspecies which had once threatened to cleanse an entire plane with their unstoppable onslaught of biological progress, aided by sentients foolish enough to think they could control them. The imbeciles simply provided them with an array of forms to combat any threat to the Hive, and then the Slivers turned on their masters. Arklenzidath clearly wanted to play in the big leagues.
The first of these mutations took place near-immediately; the creatures rippled as thick, ropy muscle came into being across their serpentine frames. Bolas could feel them getting physically stronger, and he knew this was simply the first of many changes to come. Slivers operated on an accumulation of traits sort of presence, there were normally a few slivers dedicated to a certain mutagen that released pheromones or chemicals to aid the rest in their change. As these form carriers congregated, the main body of a Sliver force would adapt a form representing a conglomerate of all carriers present, each gaining the strengths of the others, overriding their initial weak forms with more and more powerful ones. When in small groups, Slivers were not much of a threat. Larger, more varied forces inevitably accumulated enough advantages to be all but unstoppable.
Bolas decided to play defensive for now; though Slivers were easiest to defeat when only using one form, he could not risk committing to an attack, only to be left open when another form appears during a counterattack, and aids the first in overrunning him. Squads of archers manned his fortress walls, ready to fire upon attackers with light-infused arrows. For good measures he reinforced these with more, doubling up postings.
The slivers had again changed forms. They now sported wings, and were taking to the skies. The first skirmish was coming soon, and Bolas had to select how the battle would be joined. Ghost and apparitions departed the grounds around his seaside citadel to meet the mutant crusaders, their spectral forms absorbing damage undealt, but unable to deal any in return. The slivers departed lest they be stuck down by his archers; Arklenzidath may be eager for the first draw of blood, but he was not stupid.
The first assault repelled, Bolas felt comfortable preparing for an expeditionary assault. A troop of knights left his castle, though instead of horses they rode armored lions, and underneath their armor their bodies were comprised of more enchanted metals. They carried magical sigils, together comprising the strength of the force. With them were those sigils of the Archers, lending their aid in the coming battle even if they aren't participating. Even as they assembled, the slivers struck again; their bodies now radiating with vampiric energies, and suffused with the energies of life itself. Again Bolas' specters came to the defense, but this time they were eliminated, the slivers feeding on their energies, sending them to Arklenzidath to harvest. Bolas could feel the other dragon absorb this energy eagerly, feel the smug satisfaction that he was now measurably ahead of his besieged opponent.
Though the recent battle a loss, Bolas was sure he had discovered one of the form carriers. He too could harvest the energies of fallen adversaries. A helical bolt of lightning issued forth from the dragon atop the castle, annihilating a small group of slivers with perfect precision. Slowly the group as a whole lost muscle mass, unable to maintain the form without that specific carrier. Bolas used the backfeed from the blast to gain some of his own energy, and though it was not as much as Arklenzidath had used to take the lead, every small victory mattered.
Slivers weren't anything if not adaptable however, and with the next mutation Bolas found he would not be able to pull a similar trick anytime soon. The bodies grew a crystalline outer shell, one which magic 'slid off' and did no harm. In apparent retaliation, Arklenzidath cast a spell into his own forces, and Bolas found a number of his archers either unable or unwilling to join combat. Good soldiers he was now forced to keep in reserve.
On the heels of this spell the slivers advanced again, and without his spectral defenders they were able to strike far into his territory, flying over the citadel walls and come against the Elder Dragon himself. Though small, their enhanced forms still proved harmful, needle-like claws digging into the dragon's flesh, draining life essence to shunt back to Arklenzidath. The silver wyrm had finally succeeding in being the first to directly harm the opponent.
Bolas did not like being outdone.
He cast an enchantment over his soldiers, as it was critical (mostly to his pride) that his first strike was successful. With the Dawnray sigils in tow the group charged forth, Nicol Bolas' first counterattack empowered far beyond their normal strength. The Slithers arrayed to defend their master, but the Etherium-enhanced warriors proved superior, returning triumphantly after inflicting many casualties. Another form carrier had been struck down during the battle, and the slivers slowly lost the wing mutations that kept them aloft, some having the foresight to land beforehand while others simply dropped from the skies.
Bolas could feel the irritation Arklenzidath regarded his diminished forces with. Another apathy fell over Bolas' troops, this time the knights he had just struck with. The elation at a successful battle now muted, Bolas shuffled these troops back into garrison and deployed what archers remained unaffected forward. He pushed them into battle, now it was they who carried the combined sigils of the Dawnray and Ethercaste. Again the slivers met them in battle, but the archers not being as hardy as their mounted compatriots, they fell before the slivers' combined defense. Still Bolas saw another carrier form struck down, and the crystalline armor the slivers spouted melted away.
It was a Pyrrhic victory Arklenzidath won, however, as few of his forces remained. Another lightning helix lashed out from Nicol Bolas' stronghold, and the last of the survivors fell. Again Bolas absorbed the backwash of energy from the blast, and though still not on par with Arklenzidath, he had now recuperated his previous losses.
The field now devoid of any combatants, it would be Arklenzidath who would drum up reinforcements first. Or, a single reinforcement. A powerful angel was summoned to the plains, and immediately rushed at Bolas. "Nicol Bolas, in the name of-!"
The elder dragon cut the angel's attack off mid-sentence, casting her back to the battlefield with no small amount of force. He didn't need that righteous claptrap right now. He even froze the angel in place for good measure. Akroma was, in essence, just short of a divine force in her own right. A threat that large needed to be contained as quickly as possible.
Around the angel's frozen form, slivers began to creep back onto the battlefield, chittering amongst themselves as they lined up for another attack. At the moment Bolas was still defenseless, he had to put something out fast. Alas, he would not be in time, as the slivers exploded in size and mounted an offensive, beating through his defenses again thirsting for the dragon's blood. This attack was much more savage than the last, tearing large strips of flesh from the dragon's flanks. Fortunately for Bolas their size quickly diminished soon after and they retreated, for he could not take any number of attacks like that again.
Bolas needed some bigger muscle in this fight, and he needed to ensure he could survive the next phase of combat. It was time to step up his game. He showed Arklenzidath was not the only one who could be angel-touched, as he summoned to his side another powerful dragon; Numot was capable of destroying the land itself with his attacks. Adorned with the Ethercaste and Dawnray sigils, Numot charges the sliver's line.
Even in her imprisoned state, Akroma was powerful enough to lend her assistance, and the slivers proved immune to Numot's attacks. Irritated, Bolas recalled his dragon friend. He needed to get some advantage fast, he could not risk falling further behind than he was. He called another dragon to his side, allowing them a nesting ground within his fortress. He was kicking into gear now, if Arklenzidath thought he could handle dragons he would find his lands flooded with them. He threw to the dragons the troops unwilling to fight; He barely tolerated failure as it was, but refusal to obey his orders was a crime their death was but a light punishment for. His dragons would need their strength.
During Bolas' increase in strength, the slivers were not busy. They seemed to have learned from Akroma's protection, and were now generating their own immunity to Red magic. It had started a cold war of sorts, Bolas nurturing his fledgling dragon army while Arklenzidath's slivers adapted new forms. Bolas was the epitome of patient planning, but he also wished to make sure his plans would succeed. Seeing he had the time, he called for some help in bringing them to fruition, the sorceress aiding his spellcasting by drawing the energy from across time as well as space. Though it would now take some time for the spells to resolve, it allowed Bolas to start building his energy. He wanted to take to the battlefield personally, and he would need all the power he could muster to ensure it would not be his last fight.
Even as his dragon army continued to increase, huge monstrosities joined Arklenzidath's field and his slivers regained their wings. Both armies continued to grow, a magic-fueled arms race perpetuated solely by two powerful wizards, forging armies in instants as a testament to the raw power of magic run through the right hands. But Bolas could feel the time for his final strike drawing near, as soon as his latest summons come out of their timelock...
With another surge of angelic energy Bolas himself led his forces on the field. His wing of dragons took to the skies as the time seals released some of the most powerful creatures he could summon, and their forms eclipsed the sun. A new army of slivers met his forces in the field, the small but widely adapted forms meeting his more powerful but less numerous dragons in combat. While his dragons engaged the ground forces his more powerful creatures lumbered towards Arklezidath himself, seeking to strike a mortal blow. As his World Soul grievously injured the silver dragon, the eldritch abomination that accompanied Bolas to battle was intercepted, but Bolas could feel Arklenzidath's mind fracture just with the proximity to the creature, Bolas could sense the spells his opponent was about to cast flow out of his mind like water out of a jar just shattered.
Slivers fought dragons as the battle behind him raged, casualties mounting on both sides. Satisfied with the most recent blow to his adversary, Bolas turned his attention to the very terrain of the pocket plane they found themselves on, destroying tracts of land with his raw power. War was not just a battle of human resources but power resources as well, and by buckling the land under Arkelnzidath Bolas hoped to deprive him of the mana necessary to continue. Victory was in reach now, yes, but he needed his opponent to be just a bit weaker.
Even as the last of the younger dragons, and their leader Numot, fell in battle, a whelpling small but strong from combat broke through the line to strike another blow on Arklenzidath. As Akroma had again made her presence felt, granting battle immunity to the Slivers, Bolas felt that if he did not act now the opportunity granted by this epic clash would be lost forever. Casting one final spell, he literally felt the flow of all history on their little pocket plane, and probed Arklenzidath's mind at various portions of it throughout the battle they had fought. There, a moment of weakness! Through time he forced his mind into the other's and like tendrils drew his influence back to the present. "And now you mind is mine"
He did not simply pull on Arklenzidath's mind, but pushed outward as well, taking the mind weakened by his extradimensional minion's assault and scattering it around the microplane. He felt the life vacate Arklenzidath's body along with the other's thoughts and memories. Though possibly not dead, after the vicious psychic assault his opponent at least laid still, and the opposing forces on the battlefield disintegrated as Arklenzidath's hold over them failed.
In the sudden silence, Bolas smiled. It had been a long time since he had participated in this sort of battle. For experiences like these, perhaps this Nomadic imprisonment was not so bad afterall.
edited 28th May '11 1:37:07 AM by SOCR
How can you be in two places at once when you're not anywhere at all?