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Post by Beramode on May 24, 2015 2:24:42 GMT
Beramode Aurelius Pendragon was a man of many faces. A scientist of no small infamy, a preservationist on a far grander scale than many surmised, and a loving father-husband combo all in one. And yet all people could focus on these days was that he had been the progenitor of intergalactic genocide. It was worth noting that as of the last report the Aesirian genocide was continuing without remorse, the empire had been hanging on by a thread for a decade now and frankly Beramode had done the Multiverse a favor by putting that crippled racehorse out of its misery. With its homeworld demolished and its military gutted it didn’t take long for the Aesir Empire to begin feeling the overwhelming weight of their past sins, from bloodthirsty rivals to beleaguered occupied peoples, it would be quite some time before that plot of space was peaceful again… Well you know what they say; blood makes the grass grow, kill kill kill. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Beramode’s spoke to one in particular. A moment later a portal ideated in the far corner of his lab like a sickly wound reopening in the fabric of space and from it came the prodigal son came tumbling out. Quite unceremoniously at that but Vincent Fiorelli was nothing if not light on his feet and managed to catch himself on a table normally reserved for wasted medical tools. The portal was gone before he could recover enough to shoot it a dirty look… “Quite. Who is she?” Vincent’s tone was not a pleased one. “Your new sister.” Beramode gestured wide with a pair of glove clad hands. The lab was a wide and dark place kept at a temperature that most artic animals would have considered a bit nippy and with a light layer of fog drifting below waist level in order to set the mood. Much of the floor was made up of grating through which an even colder draft could be felt and all of the overly warm fog eventually sunk into. There was but a single light hanging from the light, shining brightly upon a slab of a table where what would eventually be a woman sat, strapped down at the ankles and at the wrists. But where this parade of classic cinematic aesthetics was normally reserved for monsters she was a beautiful thing with a slender figure that intentionally resembled a doll, pale flesh that looked soft to the touch, and a face that oozed sex appeal; the kind of woman that Chidea would have clawed his eyes out for staring at for too long. Luckily he had more than one extra pair lying around. She would have quite a sight to behold if her body were not incomplete in some places and folded open like a computer case in others. It was quite evident that she was a machine though of a rare sort only ever seen on two other instances in this Multiverse of theirs. Everything about her oozed eldritch magic from her circuitry all the way to the occasional sparks that she gave off. All around the room magical hands working away on rituals, stringing together words in forgotten languages that would eventually materialize into the various cogs and gears that would form together to create the newest pirate hunter. The fog was the slag of their efforts, extremely warm and dripping with a very raw burnt out magical energy, not to mention not entirely safe for the mortal gaze, a sort of thaumatic waste product that could have doomed a lesser planet. Which both explained the rattling beneath the grate and brought it into question. “I’m going to name her Zarina or Zee for short.”“I see what you did there.”
“Unfortunately these things need a power source. A magical artifact of significant power that will have to be housed inside of her abdomen and sustain her existence for as long as she serves me.” “Easy enough, but why?”“Why do we do anything my boy? Scientific curiosity. During the battle with the Aesir Empire I did more than strip the lovely Christina of her pride, I devoured her memories, including the ones she wasn’t even aware she had. Ghalakrast-the people who made her, don’t look at me like that boy, keep up-were originally looking to create a living machine.” Beramode clicked his fingers drawing a scowl from Vincent, promptly followed by a studious nod. “Somewhere along the way their intentions turned sour and they decided to develop a war machine instead. I am deeply interested in their research and unlike them I am not so foolish to view order and chaos as complete opposites, and so we have your sister here, reverse engineered and improved upon. In theory at least…”
“Fascinating,” Vincent said with no lack of honest, his fingers around his chin and a slight nod in his head. “But not exactly what I meant, why am I here? What does this have to do with me?”“You are to leave immediately. You will find Zee her soul, preferably one thematically in line with our intentions, do you understand? I’m not looking for a run of the mill magical toy here; we need something that can theoretically provide an endless supply of magical energy to keep up with her predecessors.” Beramode seemed to be winding down for the time, sliding his sleeves back down and shooting Vincent a poignant gaze from over the rims of his glasses. “It will take time.”“I don’t know if you forgot but I’m busy doing our dirty work. Doing your dirty work.” “And that is why you are here. We are done. Experiment BHM-008H is a failure. We were lucky that the Aesir Empire was as anemic as they were but the point still stands, he acted irrationally and outside of our plans and moreover I believe he begins to suspect the very nature of his being, the experiment has gone rampant. And now they all need to be put down. For their own good and for ours…”“When do we get started?”“There is no we this time Vincent, I started this one and I shall be the one to finish it.”*** Often times the Magister received flack because he was the youngest child and the subject to no small amount of favoritism. But he was a dutiful son, crafty enough to defy orders when he had to but clever enough to know when they had to be followed, this was one of those times… The Leviathan was actually where he said it would be. The crew of Leviathan would have no warning before the warp storm fell upon them. A complete anomaly of space and time the likes of which could never be prepared for and only weathered and weather it they would. Only one person aboard the ship would realize what was happening at the moment, only one person would be notice to the cold touch of Brobdingnag on the astral winds tinged with a special kind of feral hatred not felt in ages. A moment later the Leviathan would emerge in real space, a bit roughed up but suffering no major damage for it, in a completely unknown star system orbiting an equally unknown planet. The super massive Zodiac class starship was no match for the artificial world that hovered before them, in reality it was less of a terrestrial body and more of an aborted star converted into something livable by the former inhabitants. No life whatsoever could be detected on the planet which was a blatant lie as it didn’t take a scientist to see the massive shapes swimming through the thick black clouds. No life of course save for Beramode Aurelius Pendragon himself… Beramode stood in the middle of a remarkably well preserved city built with clear Victorian influences in the sweeping architecture. It was a single city but it could have very well functioned as a small country unto itself, and perhaps at one point it had, one of those annoying overly pious types who tried to change the world. Whatever the case the madman stood before a grand cathedral with double doors several times larger than most buildings and skyscrapers for pews that struck their way to the clouds. There was no star in this system and yet the whole world had washed white, save for every building every drifting fog that glowed a deep pulsating black. In and out of the sky they dipped, massive serpentine things with sweeping wings that for all that they disturbed the material plane could have been projections, and they did not seem at all put off by the state of things. None of which was of any great concern to the madman. He quietly waited before the building with his hands in his coat pockets and a scarf around his shoulders. It was an inauspicious entrance for a man given to grand theatrics of the moment and yet he wasn’t feeling it this time. Instead he let the silence stand for itself while he grinned quietly and the bassoon voice of Brobducroas growled into the mind of everyone aboard the Leviathan. “Good day, Havoc Industries. You have done well to get this far aboard a vessel constructed from anger and spite alone but your journey ends here in this sullen rock.
Your presence is demanded, don’t be late. Your life was brief but it was bright but now it is at an end, for today we celebrate your funeral, here on Ragnarok.”
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Post by Beramode on May 24, 2015 2:28:07 GMT
Ragnarok
 Welcome to Ragnarok. Once home to an order of pious soldiers who stood stalwart against the endless tides of evil; faith was their shield and justice their blade. They are gone now and nobody is quite sure what happened to them, that’s a lie, everyone is well aware of what happened but most are too scared to tell the tale. Some say that the souls of fallen angels still haunt Ragnarok to this day. They wouldn’t be wrong. Ragnarok is a massive artificial world created from an aborted star. Ragnarok is a wasteland for the most part, dominated by things better left unseen by the eyes of men, despite the fact that it has no star to call its own the world glows white and every structure, creature, and element black. Only in the capital do they never land, a great sweeping church the size of a small country that was crafted from a combination of magic and technology in an oh-so Steampunk fashion. Much of which still works many eons past its expiration date. General: A sweeping city built of Victorian architecture and dominated by a single super massive church, large enough to function as a country in its own right, and filled with eldritch secrets long since lost to time. Weapons: Cogs, wires, trinkets, and tools of all shapes and sizes. Beneath the surface the city seems to run by clockwork. Natural Elements: Metal and Chaos Bonus Effects: Ragnarok will repair itself when damaged. |
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Post by Hero on Jul 1, 2015 18:57:41 GMT
[ I. HAVOC ]
Complacent, indolent, these were few of many words that characterized Adell Illiandes Laemington following the genocide of the Aesir Empire. As an instrument of war and one of the tools behind orchestrating the debacle, the feral stench of blood filled the atmosphere of Xelphia long before Havoc had arrived to claim their lives. Hypocritical and haughty all the same, they tore apart everything in sight and didn't hesitate to destroy the planet in the process - even killing the Yggdrasil Crew, or atleast those who didn't bother running like the cowards they were to begin with. While usually one to scrutinize details Adell lost himself in his warlike rage, and it was only after completely slaughtering Dias Blade that a new side of the monster was revealed; one that threw all caution to the wind. Adell had reached the nadir.
Oblivious to everything around him he was transformed into a draconic-monster of rare form that began destroying everything in sight, while Beramode and her children launched the planet into another planet.
And things only grew hazy from there.
Exactly what happened after which remains a mystery to those who weren't there, only those who had survived the conflict rife with chaos could speak on the ending terms. Some spoke of a final battle between Beramode and Adell for unknown reasons, and others told of men of all race and size killing each other as the two planets collision brought ecological instability and twisted people's minds beyond recognition. It was a symphony of disorder and dancing to its melody were two of the strongest madmen in the Multiverse. Whether they got tired or Beramode simply grew bored, no one knew for certain, but there came a time when Adell calmed down and they simply parted ways. The background scenery of death and destruction was hardly the quiet backdrop some may have desired, but it was befitting considering what they had accomplished in such a short amount of time.
The complete annihilation of The Aesir Empire and its powerful Crimson Knights. What few remained met their demise as they doubled back into the flames of carnage and were devoured by the darkness surrounding both Xelphia and Gaea, a bloody battlefield that would continue long after Havoc and any connections to them had departed. Many repudiated the very thought of the might Aesir Empire being destroyed overnight but the truth was in the pudding: they simply weren't as tough as foretold. They could've been spared if they had fought nearly as hard to protect their lives as their legends told, yet they received no reconciliation for their hard-earned time and effort. Sure they were superfluous, asinine even, but they were also justified in every since of the damned word! Then again the argument that there was no true justice in the world was something you'd find Adell and Loki arguing on any given day in one of their many drunken battles of words and fists.
So it's to no surprise that their tale continues with their most grim task yet. Even after orchestrating the downfall of Aesir, setting Chamberlain on fire, aggravating Nibiru, having some fun on Soran, and taking something of a dangerous vacation in-between it all, some would argue that this next trial would be their most challenging yet. With Jin gone, and Vincent missing, some of their strongest warriors would be missed in their battle with one of the strongest evils of the Multiverse.
Beramode Aurelius Pendragon.
And that wouldn't stop the rogue mavericks from making things interesting as they had the tendency to do. Their penchant for creating chaos and defying fate itself was remarkable, and at their head? Adell Illiandes Laemington, The Lost Hero, Captain of Havoc Industries.
[ II. The Wanna-Be Hero ]
It was on a day like any other that the Leviathan slid across the stars of space like a proverbial ark, enigmatic and absolute, lacerating the infinite world of endless with little mercy. It was only when it activated the Almanac's Zero Relative Transmission Drive that it could be seen, it's ephemeral glow shimmering across the darkness in an arrogant, pompous language that only those who lived their lives outside of the stars glow could recognize. The banner they flew was tenacious, and invited anyone confident enough to challenge them if they so dared. This, of course, was part of the arrogance that was Havoc Industries. While they lacked the numbers, they usually made up for it in credible manpower, and it was often that while many were away that there were enough on-board to defend the voyage from any aggressors with the help of VIS, their onboard artificial intelligence.
"Out...? What do you mean we are out?!" Adell roared, slamming his hands into the metal bar top.
"We're out of your shitty Screaming Eagle wine, thank goodness, how's about some good ol' Crown Apple!" Bee exclaimed, pulling the bottle off of the shelf behind her.
"You fiend! This was a set up from the beginning! You damned broken cyborg you should be scrapped!" Adell complained, slapping his thick hands on the counter over and over again. Elijah, sitting in the background, couldn't help but chuckle at Adell's rambunctious behavior. It was becoming more frequent as the days since the reprehensible battle of Xelphia. It was one battle after another, and after every single one Adell drowned himself in every carnal desire he could think of - from sex with his playmate up the chain of Nibiru to recklessly drinking: it was like watching a train derail itself with only one sure destination.
Elijah slipped behind Adell, who's unbuttoned white polo shirt was stained with liquor and food. Giving the old captain a pat on the back he gave a mischievous smirk, but nothing out of the ordinary for the elusive gambler. "You look like you're on your last leg old man, don't want to get too drunk now, don't forget everyone here probably wants to kill you!"
"Elijah shut the fuck up for once!" Bee snapped. "You aren't helping one bit!"
"I'm just sayin'! Out of all of us I definitely wouldn't trust you! You'd probably destroy everyone in the Leviathan quicker than my puny senses could register the moment you recognized Adell was out!"
The fracas boiling between the two was far out of reach. Adell had already checked out, avoiding Elijah's attempt to trick him childishly and selfishly shrinking away from Bee's concern and loyalty. Their impropriety didn't matter. In-fact, nothing honestly mattered. The only thing he could feel was the slight numb sting of dark liquor burning his soul away, or what little of his soul remained after what he had done.
Adell was no hero, no merryman, no advocate of justice or arbiter, no, Adell was a man with childlike ambitions. Bahamut himself was disappointed at his naivety and rejected his ascension. He had failed as the Prince of Dragons. Clenching his hand around the thick glass caught everyone's attention, and created an atmosphere of palpable intensity that shook the bar. Diaphanous waves of murderous intention radiated from Adell, stinging Elijah's mind and alerting Bee before they could continue their bickering any further. Adell was most dangerous when lost in the recesses of his mind.
"Every time I walk into the bar someone's acting like a straight bitch," Joey barked from the entrance, stuffing his hands into his blue denim. The silver-haired technician of Havoc was the centerpiece behind the newly intergrated technology such as the Titan-series exosuits and the redeveloped Almanac system. He didn't look the part, but for his age he was far more intelligent than others.
"Get the fuck up pussy," Joey yelled at Adell, sliding up to the bar space next to Adell, "according to VIS our danger index probability for the next forty-eight hours is off the charts. We need you in top form to survive, got it?"
Adell didn't respond, instead he flicked the glass across the bartop between his two thick hands, watching the empty glass spin back and forth. Bee and Elijah were both silent for Joey's analysis. He was never one to joke about these types of things, were they really in trouble? They exchanged glances.
"The other two are gone, so that leaves the Captain. This might be as bad as Xelphia."
"I don't mean to correct you, Mr. Harris, but according to the power index and probability ratings, it will most certainly be harder to deal with than the Aesir Empire conflict." VIS voice echoes through the bar, the A.I sound much like a butler than it was an artificial intelligence. "It also suggests that the end of our journey is inevitable."
Adell's eyes snapped to reality. VIS discernment of danger was unrivaled by any, which made sense, considering Tonelcius played a hand in its creation.
"Are you shitting me?" Adell groaned, hoisting himself up from the bartop. His visage was cold and apathetic, but his soul sparked with obvious concern for the future. Or was it excitement? Elijah smiled and Bee grimaced, leaving only Joey to pluck a beer from behind the bar and drink it on his own, with a reaction that didn't normally suit the coward. "How much time do we have left?"
"Anywhere from the next few minutes to three hours from now, approximately."
"Elijah, wake up Loki and find Riku, tell them to hurry up if they want to live."
"The fuck do I look like your fucking lapdog?" The blonde haired swordsman barked, his eyes flashing like the very sun before disappearing all the same.
"HAVOC is dying." Joey sighed, retrieving a beer from behind the bar on his own. "We should've known this time would come, your affiliation with the Mad Scientist is a double-edged sword. We should have left the Aesir Empire alone."
Adell raised himself from the bar, the look of indifference riddled with hints of concern. Inured through his travels, it wasn't as if he worried for himself; but for those who had given some form of loyalty to HAVOC. Could he protect them as he had before? Wiping the liquor from his glass-covered hands, he threw the towel on the bartop and stood up, tucking his hands into his black slacks. Adell didn't need any time to devise a battle plan, it was clear what he had in mind, and that in-turn worried everyone else.
"We're gonna handle this together right?"
"A new time is approaching. Havoc will never die, understand me? As long as you all live, the will that brought this together will never be extinguished. Even if you all go your separate ways this will never cease to be."
Bee, quiet and confused, glanced to Joey in hopes that he could make more sense of Adell's words.
Joey's face remained impassive.
"You think I'm gonna let you go through with that buddy?" Joey growled.
"Do you have the power to stop me?" Adell asked calmly, the entire room knowing that the question was rhetorical. Adell left the room in no rush, leaving a confused Bee and an equally frustrated Joey. Spinning on his barstool he slammed the beer glass down on the wooden bartop. "We've got to stop Adell or he's going to die, understand?"
"Why would he do that? You're not making any sense."
"Because he always wants to be the hero. Well not this time."
[ III. Never Catch Me ]
When suddenly a spatial anomaly provoked the Leviathan and consumed it in its bewitching mysticism, the whole ship tugged back with the help of the Almanac, recoiling against whatever was responsible for bringing them to the front stage to begin with. Adell could feel it just as it happened, and everyone else was caught quite literally off-guard, including VIS who had predicted the course of catastrophe as finely as possible. When they appeared, a few seconds passed, and the ship was allowed to gather environmental data based on their location, what had brought them there, and the database of known star geographical locations. This one was unknown, and even the dimension was warped by some twisted algorithm that defied the logic of what VIS and its creators knew to be true. Where were they? Adell, finishing his preparations, proceeded to the bridge, when a familiar voice echoed through the world.
“Good day, Havoc Industries. You have done well to get this far aboard a vessel constructed from anger and spite alone but your journey ends here in this sullen rock.
Your presence is demanded, don’t be late. Your life was brief but it was bright but now it is at an end, for today we celebrate your funeral, here on Ragnarok.”
"Do you think I give a fuck about what you demand or what you think is going to happen here?" Adell muttered, knowing well that Beramode could hear him by some method of magic or science. Broducroas seemed responsible for the projection, but the words themselves were from the most dangerous man in the Omniverse.
"Adell!" Joey yelled, sprinting into the bridge, followed by Bee, Elijah, and Loki, who all appeared to be shocked by what was happening. They had heard the familiar voice of Beramode as well. "What's the battle plan? I can't find Riku, Phantom, or Joshua! This is all we've got so-"
"Work with VIS to get the Almanac operational again, it was damaged after being warped here in the middle of transmission. The moment it is up again, teleport the Leviathan out of here as quickly as possible. I will remain here and handle the situation." Adell commanded, checking over his gear at the same time. While the plan he presented was possibly suicidal, he seemed calm about it all the same.
"Fuck no, that's dumb as hell. Look-"
"This discussion is over. Beramode is here...I can feel it. Beramode is mine, and HAVOC is mine. If this is our last show together it will be on my terms. There is no room for error. Bee will come with me, the rest of you will remain here."
"What?!" Loki roared, his anger exploding across the room. Elijah grimaced as well, but no one was as upset as Adell's oldest friend Joey, who's eyes were as wide as possible.
"Why me?" Bee asked, satisfied with Adell's choice, but still left with questions of her own. After everything that had happened, why had he chosen Bee? Was Elijah or even Loki more qualified?
"Because we made each other a promise remember. We belong in the presence of one another till the other dies. You still have to kill me right?" Adell grinned, tossing his overcoat on over his bulky black armor, flashing with many manner of lights that represented the optimal operation feedback in synchronization . Already a giant of a man, his gear only increased his size that much more.
"I'll meet you down there." Bee rushed off, disappearing into the hallways of the Leviathan.
Joey reached his hands around the collar of Adell's overcoat, jerking him around with all the strength he had in his lanky arms. "You damn idiot! If you die then what!? You made me lose my day job and everything I know, so if you die this is it for me you bastard!"
Adell smiled apologetically, and disappeared in the next second, leaving Joey upset and Loki incapacitated. Passing out likely from a subtle touch by Adell in passing, Elijah caught him just before he slammed into the metal floor beneath himself. Adell wouldn't let Loki get involved...he simply wasn't strong enough, and to lose the life of his apprentice in a battle that wasn't his own? There was nothing worse for a master such as himself.
"He'll be fine anyways," Elijah sighed, hoisting Loki's body over his shoulder. "But we should double back to Nibiru and figure out how to proceed without Adell. We won't be seeing him for awhile, if ever again."
"..." Joey remained at a loss for words, staring at the derelict planet from the bridge.
"This is a new chapter in everyone's lives. It's time to move forward. Find something else worth living for. You look pathetic when your entire existence hinges on someone else's." Elijah spoke coldly, hunching his shoulders with absolutely no sympathy for Joey's emotions. "Get the Almanac back up, or we'll get dragged into his mess." Elijah yawned before leaving the bridge.
Joey stared for many moments at a time before smiling sincerely. "Thank you Adell, you stupid bastard."
[ IV. Nothing Came To Me ]
This isn't the first time Adell and Beramode stood face to face in each other's way, with power that rivaled most others in the stars above. The outcome was often something debatable, either they never finished, or Adell got too frustrated to continue, or Beramode only stalled Adell long enough to do something far more devious than beating Adell (or Kaneda) in battle. Like destroying two planets simultaneously. Then there was the time he broke his arm out of its socket and threw him across a rainforest (destroying most of it in the process).
Yet and still Adell approached with unwavering resolve, his opalescent eyes shimmering across the entirety of Ragnarok to all of its non-existent patrons. The world trembled beneath his every step, but wouldn't break, it only resounded and echoed in tandem with the beat of his very soul. Any ordinary world or city would've likely been crushed under the pressure he exude, but this city handled it as if it were normal: and it was coming from Adell himself.
Every piece of elegant architecture brought back some memories of a time before his death, a time when he was young and wore biker goggles on his forehead. Immortal and imbued with the power of the draconic flame he slayed his enemies, trained by the Zenoushka-Ryu and Larz Graveus Wrath, he accumulated all of their knowledge and power as well and in doing so became a center-piece in the struggle of old. Yet since then he had grown stagnant. Unable to light the Torch of Kings and touch the power of his lineage, he had loss much of the power he once had...yet in exchange he had gained wisdom. Enough wisdom to build an organization that became the cornerstone of many civilizations throughout the Omniverse. Yet how had it come to this?
"This is stupid." Adell chuckled, popping his neck habitually. After calmly ambling through the city for sometime he finally reached the cathedral in its epicenter.
All-in-all Adell appeared prepared for anything, and regardless of the peculiar leylines of cerulean running through the armor's critical areas he didn't come with anything but his Titan-EXO S series armor and his favorite loose-fitting black overcoat. The angles in his face were more defined than usual, suggesting that he was losing weight, but his body's incredible size betrayed that notion entirely.
"Sorry for the wait, I had to fire all of my employees," Adell joked around, not having set his eyes on Beramode yet, who stood about fifty meters away and ahead of Adell. "This is hardly about those people anyways now is it?"
Adell snickered madly, clenching his jaws together, "Tell me the truth. What happened? What really happened? What did you do to me? Or do I have to beat your fucking ass first to find out?"
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Post by Beramode on Sept 19, 2015 0:12:47 GMT
“Me?” Beramode said with dry surprise, “Nothing, not directly at least, I merely provided you with a reminder of whom you really are. You however went on a rampage until you grew dissatisfied with wrecking empty worlds and flew to the nearest populated system, tore through an entire fleet on your way there, slaughtered an army of knights, and tried to kill your friends when all they wanted to do was talk some sense into you.”
“That last one is starting to become a nasty habit.” Beramode’s lips formed a wry smirk. “You left us quite the cleanup job. Very heroic of you…”
It was a subtle thrust at Adell’s pride. Both men were the vain sort who loved to hear others laud their accomplishments. Now Adell was being called a murderer and a monster or worse, though no one had quite put two and two together to figure out the muscle-bound punk who called himself the Prince of Dragons was the actual dragon, there was no doubt in the public eye who had unleashed it. In light of the slaughter the Domination was heaving an easy time of selling its stance of merely intervening in the resulting crisis while silently removing the remaining Aesirian officials, if anyone asked questions then corruption and chaos was to blame.
As for Beramode’s involvement? Nobody quite knew what happened once he had breached Naria but the ripples were clearly felt in the dreams of seers, or nightmares, waking up in cold sweats and speaking of cryptic allusions to the chaining of gods and demons alike. Clearly whatever adventure had happened was the sort that had sent shockwaves through the very cosmos.
In other words Beramode had a lot of success to owe to Adell’s perceived failure.
The madman looked much the same as he ever did. Tall of frame but with a wiry body and long limbs, not thin but instead lean like a feral predator stalking around wearing a finely tailored suit. The aforementioned scarf fluttered in the cold breeze of Ragnarok, he also wore a thick coat that fell down to his knees, and beneath that a pair of fine black slacks and a button up shirt that strained against his muscular chest, his hands were clad in gloves and at his feet finely tailored shoes. All in all he looked ready for a stroll through the park rather than anything particularly violent but as Adell was ever aware Beramode’s physical form was an ever shifting illusion that hid beneath it a very nasty monster. His lean face sported high cheek bones and pale flesh, his smile was more of a cruel smirk, and his white hair fell to his shoulders with the briefest hint of purple along the bangs.
There were no obvious weapons to be found on his person.
“You aren’t talking about that little incident though are you? You want to know how I turned the favored son of Bahamut to a genocidal alcoholic. That was you wasn’t it?” a bemused look formed over Beramode’s face, “So you’ve finally seen through the lie. Well I’ll be honest with you but just this once…”
“The reality is that you are neither a dragon nor a prince. You are nothing so glorious and in fact you are not glorious at all. What you are is something called a Kroxigar, how to describe it, they’re an artificial species of sapient saurian designed to serve me. You were born from a fetid spawning pool a genderless oversized bipedal crocodile with just a drop of my own greatly watered down blood to stir the reaction.” He stated matter-of-factly. “One day I became curious and I began experimenting, seeing just intelligent one of them could become, you were exceptionally bright; at least for a thick headed dinosaur, but most of all you were vicious and ambitious. So I came up with a fun game, I filled your head with lies and I threw you out into the Multiverse seeded with ambition and a direction to infiltrate the homes of my enemies, unfortunately your brain is beginning to unravel itself under the weight of an intellect it was never supposed to have. If this continues you’ll be as dumb as your average American.”
Adell gaped for a second but was cut off… “What are Americans? Don’t worry about it, it’s an old story.”
“Not satisfied with that origin story? Fine, I can come up with another one; I am after all the keeper of thousand stories. I can come up with as many stories as you like, each as likely as the last, sometimes I even lie to myself in my idle time just to see if I can convince myself it’s the truth. So what makes you think I would be honest with you? What makes you think I am even capable of honesty? Even if it mattered I can’t say I remember.”
“It doesn’t matter; your birth doesn’t matter; only your deeds and everything that follows in their wake. You chose to stand up to the tyrant Aeon Ergo and you chose to defame the pirate lord Crim el Furaga, I merely nudged you in the right direction, for the greater good.” There was a long pause between the two wherein the only sound was the cold wind of Ragnarok whipping between the buildings and the gentle flap of wings overhead.
“Even when you killed the woman you loved.” Beramode’s smile turned grim. “All so that you could become the man I, we, needed you to be.”
“But let’s be honest. You don’t want a story Adell, that’s just pretext, and neither do I. Neither of us will be satisfied until the other leaves this planet flat on their back. I stalled for time in the hopes that your friends would drop from the heavens in a heroic attempt to save you but I suppose you are alone, men like us ever are, and that’s fine. Better than you learn this lesson now I think…” Beramode stepped forward suddenly and the forever night warped around him, it was common knowledge that when in darkness he moved faster than the physical universe allowed but few had ever experienced the implications of this beyond swift movement. Adell with all his advanced senses might be able to catch a blurred afterimage of the mad king gliding along the floor towards him with his body hunched, the material plane rippling like the surface of a pool with his passage, contrary to all lessons taught Beramode’s path would take him straight down Adell’s center where he would thrust his right palm into Adell’s abdomen with his fingers curled in like claws. Without the aid of magic behind it a blow from Beramode was like being taking a cannon shot to the chest, even a beast like Adell would fall back in the face of such concentrated force, but there was something off…
This was a man so entrenched in secrets he had just admitted to a flat out inability to tell the truth. Could he really be making such a straightforward attack as this?
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Post by Hero on Sept 19, 2015 14:13:17 GMT
[ V. Over ]
Lost in the passages of time before developed society and understanding, Adell was born as the only true-son to ascend the throne of the King Bahamut - and out of all the sons the legend conceived, Adell appeared to be the weakest. That, however, hardly mattered. The dragon's love for his wife, his son, and the world of which they oversaw from the highest conceptual point of the cosmos was so strong that he knew that every bit of his strength would be within his son and more. It was destiny, and as his psionic wife foretold, their son would walk a troubled yet dangerous path: one that would eclipse all that they had done and all that they knew. In the years to follow Adell faced traitors, thieves, murderers, and those who were jealous of his ambition and power - and by his side were the greatest companions any could ask for. Trustworthy, valiant, honest, caring, Adell met some of the most treasured companions on his journey to truth and inner clarity.
But the harsh truth was that Adell had always been alone since the day he left his mothers arm and the Kingdom of Fabrolias fell along with the mightiest dragon to have ever lived. Everything since then has been an illusion, temporary, all the makeshift relationships he made with others were broken when they died or their hearts changed. Then there was Adell, still walking the same path he'd sworn himself to since the beginning.
Some would call it foolish pride, others determination. The truth?
He didn't know any other way, neither did Beramode. They were bound to be alone, this was the fate of those who's weight shook world's beneath their feet with their mere presence. Since the beginning it may have been apart of Beramode's plan for this day to come, and even with no clarification as to the truth; Beramode said something that made it all click together: it didn't matter. Never had, never would. Regardless of how he was alive or the origin of his growing bloodlust, he was who he was.
At heart, Adell would always be a primitive monster. So, unable to argue with Beramode's lecture, there were no words honestly left to say. Beramode appeared before Adell in an enigmatic fashion that rendered his physical senses inert, and even with his spatial awareness and spiritual sonar it was almost impossible to track Beramode's lunge forward.
This is where the fun begins. Two of the strongest colliding in a battle that almost lacked any sense.
While the oppressive aura he had been bathing in parted appropriately, it shook the entire world to its core, destabilizing structures and extending his influence across the entire city. Effectively, in that same moment, Adell's mind snapped to Beramode's sudden breach of distance - with a thrust of his hand that threatened to break through Adell's chest and rip his heart outside of his chest. With but a soft yet acute jerk to the left, his right hand snapped out concurrently with Beramode's own curled-finger thrust, allowing him to snag the mastermind's wrist in the time-split movements between the two. With absolutely no delay, Adell had already begun rotating his hips and transferring the energy from Beramode's thrust into his spinning movement, redirecting it into a vacuum that'd pull the bastard forward and send them flying into the wall of the monument they stood in with merely a snap his his wrist and twist of his lower body. His fingers, laced with ether the moment they made contact with Beramode's wrist would hopefully assure Beramode didn't slip from his grasp.
But was this all a ploy?
An ominous boom would fill Ragnarok if all went accordingly.
Most of all, however, the spiritual aura that had been dispersed throughout the city itself wasn't just for show - but that was to be revealed.
Adell was as tough as they came, and able to take and dish a brutal beating he had no intention of letting Beramode walk away unscathed. His dreaded and most powerful enemy would be defeated here, by his hands. "Don't fuck with me Beramode!"
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Post by Beramode on Sept 24, 2015 4:54:19 GMT
An apt defense and one that Beramode would have undertaken had he been in the same situation, but therein lay the problem; if Beramode could conceive of it then he could was almost certainly prepared to defend against it.
There were a few differences here than in your typical aikido flip. Beramode was low to the ground and moving forward without locomotion as opposed to walking forward and punching, both important factors in the practical application of the martial arts. In this situation however they were but minor differences given that Adell’s prodigious strength should have allowed him to fling someone of Beramode’s build around with his pink. But then again Beramode was a good deal heavier than most people predicted. All of which should have been glaring warnings that there was something suspicious afoot.
When Beramode moved swiftly as he so often did it was not through the physical plane, this is why he typically performed the trick in darkness and away from prying mortal eyes, but Ragnarok was an unusual world thrust into an everlasting night, but back to the subject at hand. Instead what he did was glide along the edge of the material plane, like a skipping stone, picking up speeds that exceeded the speed of light while only temporarily dipping back into reality to keep his location static without building up the intense pressure that would result from moving beyond light speed. When Adell snatched up Beramode’s wrist his hand spun around, the clawed fingers burrowed their way into Adell’s flesh and digging violently against his tendons, a brief flash of sticky either to string them together, and then they were gone.
Beramode, being that he was not on the material plane, was not subject to the sudden void created by Adell’s raw strength and though the power that Adell put into the attempt was impressive in the strange pseudo-fourth dimension Beramode had no problem re-orienting himself for entry; think of like the meta-physical version of a front flip. The problem with Adell being along for the ride was that Beramode did all this by repeatedly accessing something called an Elder Warren, one that belonged to him and him alone, and that meant that only he was permitted entry into it. It was entirely possible to smash ones face into the House of Shadow but doing so would require a lot of power and a good deal more than Adell was capable of mustering, given that it was quite literally a sentient sub-plane with an intimate connection to Beramode destroying it would necessitate doing the impossible, which is to say killing the madman for good. So Beramode was repeatedly dipping into this well of power but poor Adell was denied entry, the result would be Adell quite literally slamming into and out of reality at the speed of light several times, ping ponged between a meta-physical rock and a hard place; we’re talking searing heat, disassembling of the body on a molecular level, impacts at light speed, the unexpected appearance of foreign objects in an unprepared body, and more and that was solely on the scientific side of things. On the magical side the Elder Warren of Shadow would be doing much the same via magic but instead of burning him to death it would a freezing touch that stole his energy from him. In short it was no bueno and Adell had willingly grabbed Beramode’s hand to go along for the ride. Then it was over….
It was little more than a second later but for Adell it was to be an eternity of pain.
Beramode slammed to a stop, feet digging into the pavement as he slung his arm forward, using all of that sudden stop momentum to whip Adell into the nearest building. The sticky ether connected their hands would dissolve, becoming a slippery shadow that allowed him to glide free upon the release. Adell would hit with the sound of a gong going off but the building would accept none of the force, it absorbed the impact and its white form wavered, cracked, and only reluctantly split when resisting was no longer a logical option. Only then would Adell be allowed to slump to the ground…
Beramode would take a step back to admire his handiwork and readjust his scarf and coat. Well if all went as planned, he would still be as casual as could be, but something had clearly changed about his person from the way his fingers ended in sharp talons to the soles of his shoes having shifted into blackened grieves with fangs of their own.
“Are we done here?”
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Post by Hero on Oct 4, 2015 23:29:02 GMT
[ IV. If the Legend is a Lie ]
Beramode was a calculating beast of unimaginable power but Adell was a real-time strategist who's sharp mind and keen intuition shaped the battlefield for virtually any circumstance. From the moment of Beramode's approach Adell had already surmised how he'd deal with the mad scientist's speed that rivaled and possibly superseded his own. From their battles before he had never witnessed the techniques that were being employed but he was quite prepared to counter them.
But alas there was another issue. The moment he snatched up Beramode's wrist Beramode dug his claws into his wrist and vanished along with himself, dissolving into the metaphysical bridge that connected the material plane and the sentiment sub-plane that was the House of Shadow at what was the speed of light. Of course, that being said, the laws of conventional science and physics didn't apply on a world outside of the traditional material plane, allowing Beramode to narrowly escaped being thrown half-way across Ragnarok and through several buildings. More importantly, with everything accounted for, the comprehensive plan would actually allow Beramode to access the House of Shadow while Adell, still joined by flimsy adhesive ether that bound them, slammed into the gateway several times. If he could be effected by the kinetic discharge, absurd heat, and the other scientific trauma of being flung back and forth, then Adell's existence in the bridge between worlds would become either a paradox or a hectic problem.
Why? Unbeknown to most outside of Jin the Space Witch and very select few others Adell Laemington was also connected to something of a sentient sub-plane, and the concept of its existence itself was rooted in understanding of power: pure physical and kinetic energy. Usually said power is derived from motion itself garnered by acceleration but the Dragon's Gate was essentially a conduit that allowed virtually total manipulation of this aspect of physics. Regardless of his mass, acceleration, or position, he was able to control, manipulate, absorb, and release kinetic energy of any volume at any point in time by releasing the Dragon's Gate — making his mind the only obstacle.
So comes the rebuttal.
Adell possess what's known as the Diamond Mind which allows him to at any level perceive any and everything happening at the tiniest fraction of a second with only the right focus. Just as Beramode burrowed his fingertips into his wrist his mind entered a state of intense focus, allowing him to actually perceive not only Beramode's motions, but their disappearance from the world and appearance within the bridge that connected them.
Just as Beramode and Adell appeared and the ping-pong effect would have begun, Adell did something drastic, or rather his mind activated a defensive mechanism meant to prevent Adell from transcending or leaving reality itself: he warped the Dragon's Gate into the bridge itself, the gap separating the House of Shadow and reality itself. When its boundless energy overflowing from its existence instantaneously slammed into everything around Adell (as it used him as a conduit), something would have to give: the bridge, the boundary of reality, or the House of Shadow itself.
Needless to say the bridge shattered like glass and Adell, having not yet moved at all, observed the result. Releasing the Dragon's Gate had eroded the sticky ether, shattered the bridge (with Beramode's whereabouts being unknown), and left him with a particularly nasty bruise that began to heal as soon as he noted it.
If they were going to play the transdimensional power blow game Adell would need to watch his step. He had avoided a significant injury with the help of the Dragon's Gate, but he wouldn't be able to use it anymore. To anchor himself to reality and avoid any mistakes he couldn't underestimate Beramode. The Rune of Space and Time, glowing along the back of his left hand. Was the gift his mother had left him ready to finally be revealed?
"Stop playing these fucking games with me Beramode!" Adell grunted, releasing a pressurized wave through his foot and into the ground that simultaneously sent cracks dancing across the marble floor. The child Beramode had dissected and toyed with for so long had grown into a man. "Let me see that face of yours."
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Post by Beramode on Oct 6, 2015 2:21:10 GMT
“This must be what they call déjà vu.” Beramode mused to himself after all it was all said and done, stroking clawed fingertips through the ever present stubble on his chin. What could have perplexed our hero so?
For that we must rewind our tale to but a few moments earlier…
Beramode dug his claws into Adell’s forearm, puncturing his armored flesh and embedding his digits between the iron cords of the Dragon Prince’s muscles, more sticky ether spilled out into those wounds melding their bodies together interminably. Then they were gone. Almost by reflex Adell ripped open the Dragon’s Gate and let his power pour into the world around him in a desperate attempt to assay his kidnapping but it was all for naught.
How you ask? What problem is there in this vast Multiverse that cannot be overcome through sheer determination?
The answer is simple; problems that don’t exist. There were two facets to Beramode’s rapid teleportation, the first was the madman himself who held the keys to the High House of Darkness and the second were the concepts through which he was able to channel those powers, in this case darkness. Between the material plane and the House of Darkness existed the vast empty chaos of the Astral Sea through which he traveled. None of these things were a bridge per say but if one were to exist it would be the man that Adell was currently anchored to, the scientist who perennially rolled his eyes at over displays of power and had descended to divinity on the weight of his wits alone, who also just so happened to be an obstacle that the Prince of Darkness had never been able to surmount. The other option was a concept that pervaded all around them. In other words not the best targets for an ethereal overload.
So Beramode ran, using his prodigious physical strength that was more than enough to throttle a dragon combined with the theoretical infinite energy generated by faster than light speed movement to drag Adell, even without the benefit of sticky ether molting inside the Prince’s arm. Behind him the weight of an entire plane spilled into the oblivion, no doubt wreaking havoc on the half-formed thought beasts of the astral sea just as it would have assayed Sir Pendragon if not for the fact that he immune to such things. The energy rampaging around him certainly tried to pressure him but did very little to actually penetrate passive defenses like the Kaiser Effect and other spells that passively kept him safe the effects of particularly violent realms and even actively reflected their rage back at them. A moment later he dipped into the House of Shadow, driving Adell and the Dragon’s Gate into his personal realm like a battering ram, almost immediately that metaphysical energy rebounded into and through the Dragon’s Gate; ripped from its home and without any defended borders with which to steel itself beyond Adell the plane had no recourse but to break upon its opposition and destabilize in the chaotic astral sea.
But wait there’s more!
In the picosecond required to consider this new development Beramode concocted a nasty plan. As noted before Adell had opened the Dragon’s Gate, letting it all rip out from inside of him in an attempt to overwhelm the darkness and the madman, in the end succeeding in very little beyond playing his hand early. With little more than raw power Beramode shot right back out, wrenching on Adell’s dislocated body and proceeding to tear him away from the Dragon’s Gate while the walls of the High House of Darkness sank their tendrils into the mass of energy that had been flung against it. The tug of war wouldn’t last very long as the House was all but inviolable in its weight and Beramode however strong could only pull so much, at the end of the day something had to give, and something involved the Dragon’s Gate being torn from Adell’s abdomen like the anchor being ripped out of a ship in the middle of a storm.
Rinse, wash, repeat. A few seconds later Beramode stood before Adell with his clothes steaming ,the raw power of the Dragon’s Gate having caused a good deal of stress to his defenses, but pain was a foreign concept that Beramode had long since worked out of the system leaving him with the arduous task of cooling his systems. Without the sticky ether between their hands letting go of Adell hadn’t gone as smoothly as intended but that was fine, without his control over kinetic energy the Prince of Dragons had no recourse but to suffer, which begged the question; what was a dragon without access to his warren?
Probably the same thing as a neutered dog; a depressing shell of its former self.
Meanwhile in the vast reaches of the outer planes the Dragon’s Gate was being devoured by a thousand hungry mouths within the High House of Darkness. The unique power of Adell’s dragon soul being digested of its will and converted into yet more mass for the massive warren. If there was one success to be wrought form the whole effort it was that Adell could rest easy knowing that Beramode was reaping the rewards of this fight already.
“You never learn do you?” Beramode lifted one leg and proceeded to bring it down on the downed Adell’s shoulder. The arm in question was no doubt in horrible shape what with how Beramode was warping the flesh inside and so would come off remarkably well with a wrench of his wrist. “We’ve been through this song and dance before. If all you intend to do is power up then please save me the trouble and kill yourself.”
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Post by Hero on Oct 12, 2015 16:22:40 GMT
[ V. Harder Than You Think ]
“Do you remember when we first met?” Adell reminisced, his eyes mirroring the infinite stars that held possibilities that even he could never imagine. His heart had endured internal chaos, the pain of harsh experiences, and countless struggles that most could never speak of. For years, dead and alive, Adell had defied fate itself and given breath to what most knew as hope. Becoming a beacon of light for freedom and self-determination, all who looked at Adell’s accomplishments saw the impossible. A weak and harmless little boy made a man of titanic strength, no one could take from him what he had worked desperately for since the day he saw the Kingdom of Fabrolias vanish before his eyes. “It was some time ago, back then I was a lot weaker, even than you are now.”
“I don’t care to mope around thinkin’ about dumb shit like that,¬” the bronze-skinned teenager yawned, adjusting his black baseball cap, “You always were the depressin’ type, never could get down with your vibes, always thinkin’ about what’s done. You gotta keep pressin’ forward or you’re gonna be as good as dead, and what good are ya’ then?” If there was anything to take from Bilal’s words, it was that Adell had been doing far too much thinking since the collapse of the Aesir Empire and the Hunt of the Crimson Knights. “Move on, bigger fish to fry. Beramode got away again, so what’re you gonna do about it?”
“Beramode is too powerful.” Adell grimaced, clenching his fists tight enough to crush stars in its clutches. The strength of his flexing grip shook the air around him in an aura of palpable intensity.
“You don’t sound like that stupid white-haired hero that everyone was raving about during the Dimensional Wars era. How did you get stronger but get more cowardly all at the same time?” Bilal chuckled, glancing out at the same stars that Adell had finally begun to admire in some twisted sense of fear. “He really scared the hell out of you didn’t he? You know your power and now you’re afraid to fight? It’s you or him. There can’t be two top dogs now can there?”
Bilal lazily shifted across the fortified glass-complex separating the two and the vacuum of space, trying to make himself comfortable as best as he could underneath Adell’s doubt. The S-Class Horizon Agent was one of a kind, and through the hundreds of years of struggle being reborn again he’d finally found a place that made him comfortable in the madness of it all. The conclusion of everything was far-off, but he could see it in the horizon. The end of it all. The end of heroes, conquerors, and war alike. The world was becoming soft, and one man stood above them all, becoming the center of hatred, death, despair, darkness, and everything enigmatic about the world. The Broken Crown of which great disdain was held for, a man who had existed as long as anyone alive could possibly remember, and far more ancient than any legend or books of the past.
Beramode Pendragon.
“I can feel it. I don’t know what he’s plannin’ but he’s gonna end it one of these days. No one else’s got a chance, and he has the whole world dancin’ in the palm of his hand. You just gonna let him win like that?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“That’s not somethin’ Bahamut would say.”
“…”
[ VI. The Dragon Denied ]
What was a dragon without access to its warren?
Beramode Pendragon obviously misunderstood what exactly the Dragon’s Gate was, atleast as far as its connection to Adell Illiandes Laemington was. The Dragon’s Gate was accessible to any who had allowed themselves to become enlightened under Martial Law, complete and utter mastery of martial arts and understanding of its passages within the mind itself. This also could be the same for its energy, and any trying to devour its energy, while it was still energy in question it would be hollow to anything that didn’t understand what exactly the Dragon’s Gate was or what it took to utilize its energy. The kinetic energy would dissolve the moment anything, regardless of what plane or sub-plane it existed upon, tried to devour or reverse its power, as to interact with it outside of its destructive external power was impossible.
That said, The God Dragon, having the Dragon’s Gate snatched from his mind and spirit became enlightened in an instant. Why? The Dragon’s Gate itself was something The Invincible Superman had purposely hoped Adell would master, and with good reason. Only Larz Graveus Wrath, Rion Leingod, and Adell’s parents knew why outside of himself, and it’d become apparent the moment that he was stripped of the knowledge he had lived in dependence of.
“Y-you…bastard…” Adell coughed, blood splattering across the ground violently. His insides shifted and his body generated insane amounts of steam that rolled across the temple, but not before Beramode brought his leg up and dropped it on Adell’s shoulder.
The bone dislocated from the shoulder itself and the ripe muscle underneath his skin tore in hundreds of places, splitting apart just before the arm came off altogether, splattering hot blood all over Beramode and himself, acidic blood of which would no doubt corrode Beramode’s defenses further than what he had already sustained in this ridiculous escapade. Adell grunted painfully but bit his tongue, refusing to scream in the face of his enemy.
“I’m a God do you understand me?!” Adell’s body disappeared just after the blood splattered all over Beramode, leaving Beramode alone for a few seconds just as Adell appeared once more, about twenty meters away, stumbling on his two feet with a missing right arm. A waterfall of blood and flesh splashed across the ground, painting a sad canvas at Adell’s feet. Every second his mind fell deeper into his original instinct as a dragon, without the Dragon’s Gate acting as the most powerful seal that locked away his heritage, even the most common language in the Multiverse became jumbled in his head. Memories, language, relationships, concepts themselves, they flew across in chaos in his mind, destroying themselves without a filter to moderate it all.
“Kill…” Adell murmured. His shoulder healed itself almost instantaneously, his biological regeneration factor bolstered by his draconic heritage beginning to expose itself. “Come at me one last time, and I’ll show you what despair is Beramode.”
Something was obviously off about Adell. Was this even Adell? What exactly was it that Beramode was after? After he stripped Adell of what it was that made him a hero would he like what he found underneath?
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Post by Beramode on Oct 14, 2015 3:41:03 GMT
“Fascinating; I may have use for this later. You don’t mind do you?” Beramode clutched the severed arm of Adell by the wrist and watched as the muscular humanoid limbs swelled with extra muscles, armored scales, and a set of claws. “I’m surprised you survived that…”
The violence that had proceeded this moment had been brutal. Perhaps then it was a benefit that Beramode’s cold analytical mind was disinclined to brood on the details of crunching bones and howls of pain. Acidic blood had splattered across his abdomen, searing flesh from his face and sizzling along the breast of his coat, if the madman felt the pain he hardly acknowledged it. As his skin peeled away it was less like a man being burnt alive and more like the shadow of a mask being pried to the side, where the acid had touched his flesh dark scales had appeared not terribly dissimilar to Adell’s own; a squirt had struck his eye only to be stalled by an invisible second-eyelid but the entire structure had become altogether more serpentine. His clothing too took a slight shift towards the dramatic as his shadowspun clothing wove itself into something more appropriate for the situation. When all was said and done there he stood with his face a tenth monstrous and his clothing stalled in mid-shift admiring the gleaming platinum scales of the severed limb; entirely unaware of the changes overcoming his person.
Even in rigor mortis the magic ran rife through that limb. With a flick of his wrist Beramode cast a chest of darkness around the offending limb, sealing it tight within a magical box that was in and of itself separated from this reality, though still visible for a brief instant. And then it was gone, sealed somewhere in a lab to be poked and prodded for years to come.
“Even gods can die, Adell.” Beramode took a casual step back, letting Adell have all the space that he needed to rumble and to roar.
Just like his view on violence, however much he enjoyed it, his view on the martial arts was similarly cold and dissecting. He had lived long enough, stolen the hearts and the souls of enough fighters, to count as a master himself but he was an entirely different beast from your standard fighter. Adell struggled between the purity of purpose that came with discipline and the vigor of power pumping through his veins that came with strength. But to Beramode even the flying of fists was another game of chess, an intellectual exercise to bide his time with and express his superiority over others, not to mention a very convenient tool in sowing chaos. He was a master of the martial arts and yet he did not possess the soul of a warrior, in a way he was the very anti-thesis of a soldier, almost like a twisted monk seeking a different kind of enlightenment; a serpent wearing the skin of a wolf. Could he utilize the power of the Dragon’s Gate, no, but he could study it and he could seal it and perhaps one day he could even create someone capable of using it…
Someone like Adell.
“What a twisted world we live in don’t you agree? Where good men can commit genocide and heroes can die in dishonor. A world where the gods can fall and where cruel men are capable of remarkable acts of kindness? Do you hate it?” he was getting at something here but what, “The world doesn’t need a hero like you and it certainly does not need a god like me. Do you understand me Adell?”
With a mental command Beramode’s shadow slid out towards Adell but on this world where shadow allowed them to see and light was thing lurking in corners his appeared as a glowing white stallion of power. It was difficult to look against the bright solar glow and yet the only thing it cast into the world was a thin veil of darkness. It was not entirely unlike Beramode either though all things said this new shadow was built bigger than he was and lacking in defining features what with a mere thin slit of a mouth to speak with an no eyes to stare. The light lunged at Adell and aimed to deliver a single crushing blow to his skull in the form of an overhand right, but at the last moment it would waver, in that instant its will to kill manifested in a dozen different attacks, each and every angle that it could have thought to terrorize Adell from struck at once from all around him; a punch to the abdomen, a kick to the side of the head, a rising uppercut to the face, and so much more. All in an instant but very much connected to the same liquid golden creature.
What did Beramode really want to do here? He didn’t want to kill Adell, if he wanted to do that he would do it with his own two hands, and yet here he was ranting to him while ordering a puppet to kick the crap out of him. What twisted lesson could the monster possibly want to convey to his monstrous pupil?
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Post by Hero on Oct 15, 2015 22:49:09 GMT
[ VII. TERRORDOME ]
“What a twisted world we live in don’t you agree? Where good men can commit genocide and heroes can die in dishonor. A world where the gods can fall and where cruel men are capable of remarkable acts of kindness? Do you hate it?” Beramode's will resonated throughout the chapel and the entire world, shaking it to its bitter core. “The world doesn’t need a hero like you and it certainly does not need a god like me. Do you understand me Adell?”
I am the author of your pain.
Adell's conceptualized reconfiguration defied the limitations of possibility, breaking the mold of body and mind, and shattering that which held back the God Dragon's voracious and enigmatic nature. Sharp spikes pierced through ligaments and rigid scales tore through flesh, cloaked only by resplendent light that betrayed even the world of darkness around them. The Polydimensional Seals lining his body and soul broke apart, internal organs ruptured and smashed into each other chaotically, and the man who had lost his form become a monster almost four times its size, with glass claws and onyx scales that reflected the truth of the world back into itself in some shrouded mystery. It's face was long, with horns like that of a trident protruding from the top of its head and out into unstable world behind it, and its neck grew slightly longer, though just as armored as it's entire body, it towered before Beramode and the growing stallion of gold like a terrible omen in wake of the paradoxical world around them.
Yet the destruction and rapture in its wake could be felt from The Leviathan. Palpable waves of immense pressure shattered the chapel around them into dust and shook buildings to ruin, and exploded outwards in a dome of black matter. Everything caught in its path diminished into nothingness, not destroyed but gone altogether. There was no terrifying flames of obliteration or scorched earth, everything touched by the black matter was gone in an instant. It devoured the physical world for three-hundred meters in every direction, and eclipsed in the center above them, forming a black dome around the battlefield. Beramode would no doubt weather the calamitous transformation process, but his shadow would likely sustain heavy damage from the Polydimensional Seals release and the bio-organic transformation together releasing baffling waves earth shattering force and dark matter across the world around them.
Black Matter itself defied the laws of physics and even reasoning, as it was the first element born in the creation of Dragon's themselves, matter itself of which had not been discovered or seen since Bahamut's disappearance. Without a proper name, it could be considered the matter of the dragon's true soul, an essence linked inextricably to the beginning of time, that of which everything originated. Everything it touched was pulled into creation, a reverse of its destination, and became what existed before creation. Nothing. The buildings, the world, the fallen angels that haunted the world itself, they all became one with the origin of creation and became nothing, leaving Beramode and the hideous dragon who's monstrous form roared in disdain.
The God Dragon only managed to gather it's bearing in-time for the golden shadow to encroach upon it, responding with a snort and low grunt. The outline of the dragon itself revealed black matter and the moment the shadow struck, the dragon's thick left claw slashed heavenwards from its side, releasing a wave of black that ate the first attack before it neared him, and the shadow itself in a pressurized wave of pure physical energy and black matter. Underneath it all was the physical claw itself, harder than diamond itself, displacing the air around it's sharp, lethal length. When the attack was followed by others? Two arms alone accompanied by arms formed by the God Dragon's black spiritual essence itself manifested lashed out, deflecting and striking them all with unnatural strength.
"Gwaaarrrrgggghhh!" the dragon roared, its back shifting abnormally to a pair of protruding wings that shot directly behind it and began to manifest themselves painfully.
This became personal. This wasn't a fight, not even a battle per say. This was a lesson. Adell would have to sink into his roots to find the truth, and so far he had only barely scratched the surface of who he truly was beneath the layer of seals, lies, and psychological trauma.
[ VIII. You're Dead! ]
The Almanac, reconfigured as SAGE (Systematic Avogenesis Gateway Embodiment) seized to life, and sighs of relief filled the main bridge of the Leviathan, undermanned, and understaffed, and left without its fearless captain. The strongest members had disappeared for their own individual journey's, and all that was left was the shell of an organization falling apart just as much as it's captain was down below. As VIS rebooted the SAGE program, the hardware down below shook, rebooting and analyzing the parameters of their location in space and time in correlation to its previously registered index. "I don't understand..." Joey mumbled, scrutinizing VIS' calculations and the output's of the warp-drive system. "Where the fuck are we?!"
"Eh? Rare I see you blow your top." Elijah chimed, leaping from one of the sets of stairs down to the main console, several light-vector boards hovering in stasis all around Joey. "What's goin' on?"
"We're stuck here...if SAGE can't calculate the point in time, the place, and create a displacement to the next index, it won't work...it's the only way it'll work. But according to these calculations, we aren't anywhere. These variables are impossible."
"English, Jimmy Neutron."
"We're literally nowhere. Technically we don't even exist, and there's nothing anchoring us to the real world but our souls."
"Meaning?" Elijah's eyes narrowed, stringing together the conclusion all for himself before Joey even said it.
"We're stuck..." Joey gulped, his eyes widening at the orb of hexagons that was VIS hovering in the center of the bridge, "unless Beramode let's us out."
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Post by Beramode on Oct 22, 2015 5:05:00 GMT
“Impressive, I was not aware that you had come this far.” Beramode muttered more to himself than to the rampaging monster that Adell had become. “Lately it seems like everyone is trying their hardest to force me into putting effort into these duels. Can’t you just let an old man tinker in peace?”
Adell had lost it, a gaping hole had been torn in his soul when he had lost the Dragon’s Gate and with it one of the foundations in the prison that had formed around his true self. The chain reaction that followed was not a smooth transition, no it was vastly different from the ones that had taken place on Vestusio and Gaea, the mortal man who had been Adell shattered and as the creature within struggled to break free and exact vengeance the shards of a person became stuck in his soul, ultimately creating a monster that was neither man nor dragon; it was wholly unique unto itself and it was wretched. Then with a mighty roar it unleashed devastation upon the world around it.
Beramode weathered the assault. Adell had known the dread emperor long enough to know that such a wild flailing of power would never be his undoing, a knowledge that likely persisted deep inside of his lizard brain, but rage was never an emotion to be reasoned with. In response a new gate cracked open within Beramode’s astral body and an all too familiar power flooded over his person, coating him in a thin but inviolable shell, it was invisible to the outside world by its very nature but it stank of eternity and of stone. It also kept Beramode safe from the [Black Matter] that pressed against him, instead launching the madman backwards through the streets of Ragnarok until he finally came skidding to a stop on the balls of his feet, forearms crossed and a steady mist rising off of his body where the Black Matter had wrung itself dry against his defenses.
“You could have the power to destroy a universe only to find that it wasn’t enough to defeat me. On the other hand if you were powerless but your will to survive was strong enough I might just be in danger,” Beramode cracked a grin as his arms unwound; “Becoming a monster is worthless if you never find your humanity. After all only a human can slay a monster.”
“Do you understand? Failing this test could mean your life.”
Beramode too had undergone a change. Gone was the finely tailored business suit and in its place a thick suit of black plate armor had formed, gleaming like the scales of a newborn reptile. The joints were segmented to allow free range of motion and each plate ended in a ridged edge while several key pivot points sported studs or spikes that would make any form of contact dangerous. The plates were lined in a gilded purple trim and the whole appearance was quite sleek almost to the point of being serpentine. Even his tightly wound scarf had been integrated, shaping into a thick collar made of raven black feathers at his shoulders. His grin had never faded but his face seemed different, his skin becoming too pale and too stiff while his eyes became like thin slits. At the back of his head an entirely separate mote of light was winding itself around his hair and gathering it at the back of his skull in a loose ponytail that left the bangs to frame his angular face.
With that Beramode reached his right hand over his shoulder, plunging it into the dark of the world around him and ripping free the two-handed handle of the blade Insonium, it’s worn leather grip clutched between his taloned fingers and its six foot pitch black length entering the world one inch at a time. When it was finally free he swept it out to the side, the sheer weight of the weapon causing the city to quiver, and this before the dread magic had even come into play. “Well, perhaps I’m exaggerating just a bit; power is important to!”
On the twisted world of Ragnarok the dark and the light had been reversed, an ironic punishment for the perverse nature of the lords who had once presided over this world. With this curse darkness which was pulled into this realm maintained its original form such as the blade Insonium, the High House of Darkness, and the Black Matter but that which was created in Ragnarok was subject to a different set of rules. That is why Beramode’s shadowy companion, once cheerfully named Mister Grimshadow by his bloody bride, appeared the way he did; as an entirely new being we shall name Mister Firelight. Poor Mister Firelight was not nearly so defensively equipped as his master was when the wave of entropy rolled over him, his slender body was robust with positive energy though and that alone likely kept him alive as the energy tore through him, and the creature leftover was a withered dried out husk.
And it was angry.
Mister Firelight followed through his assault, one feeble blow crashing against Adell’s forearm then another and another, though each blow came with the force of an anemic child as they sunk into those new limbs they filled with weight and pressure that had not been there before, rattling the scales before recoiling. But why? You see when Adell had carved a nice chunk of Ragnarok out he had left that space empty and now Ragnarok rushed to fill it with the only two things it knew, darkness and light, and Mister Firelight hungrily devoured the latter to fill out his form. When it was done the strange glowing man would be spread out above Adell like a spider web, no longer resembling anything like the man it had come from, and then it attacked again. This time with a thousand limbs and a thousand attacks, coming at Adell from all angles and literally filling the void which he had just created with punishing speed-of-light blows that carried the weight of the atmosphere with them. They would hammer into Adell and drive him deep into the pit that he had created and excavate a new trench while Mister Firelight howled with wordless anger, his featureless face still embedded in the center of the cephalopodan nest of limbs that had formed around him.
That… wasn’t supposed to happen either. Beramode’s shadows were supposed to follow the commands that he gave them and little else; they were capable of basic tactical decisions like calculating angles and sacrificing themselves for the greater good but not on this level. Perhaps it was a twist of this fell world Ragnarok or perhaps it was because Adell’s introduction of Black Matter had sparked something in the construct. Either way a mutation had formed in the spell and the madman was amused. That said Mister Firelight only seemed capable of using his newfound freedom for one thing and that was a head on brute force attack so it wasn’t as though he was a genius.
“It seems like the winds of magic have it out for you.”
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