Collective Willpower (Asher v Lysander)

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Lysander
Junior Member

Posts: 69

Collective Willpower (Asher v Lysander) Feb 18, 2019 21:23:28 GMT

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Post by Lysander on Feb 18, 2019 21:23:28 GMT

Hellion's fingertips ran through the oozing blood, the sticky redness coating his fingers like the icing on a cake. It coagulated in his hands, and he ran his tongue over it - tasting it, sampling it. His head canted to the side, the stetson shifting just a bit, and his eyes turned down in thought. Finally, he shook his head and the blood phased through his hand as it became a mist projection.

"Rejected. This whole damned planet is rejected. Not a single worthy candidate for Heraldacy, can you believe that?" His eyes turned, the shimmering effect of the Mist making up his body rotating him a full one hundred and eighty degrees - or at least his face, the rest of him remained stationary. "These people are useless, worthless. We've not found a worthy candidate in a long time now, I'm beginning to think there isn't anyone left."

"Now, now, Hellion. That's not true. There's plenty of people worthy, you just search for something in them the others don't. We all do. We don't seek Val'garan Heralds, we seek members of The Collective. And that bar is set far, far higher than the other." Caitlyn's lilting voice, the voice of a sultry woman. Many would have thought her beautiful, a woman of profound looks and sexiness. Yet, those same people would find themselves appalled and in terror of her appearance were they to look upon it. In some ways, she was the most gorgeous creature in all of creation. Yet, to many, she seemed only horrifying. Her crystalline body, seemingly formed from unbreakable glass through which the scene of a galaxy spread before them.

Her sinister face, eyes of starlight sitting on the field of black that expanded with the spiral nature of galaxies within it, stars blotching her skin like acne, only far and beyond more beautiful and wonderful than any acne could ever hope to become. Once, long ago, her body may have been human in appearance. Men came from all around to try and be with her, to try and win her heart. The Marquise won her soul, though. And in doing so, he changed her. He formed her into a monstrosity, a creature of unfathomable darkness. The Val'gara might have changed her mind, but he changed her heart.

"You know it's hard finding perfection, Hellion. I'm the closest thing we've got."

"Shut the fuck up, Isaak. You're garbage, you're only here because Azaroth demanded it." Hellion and Caitlyn spoke in unison, almost as if they shared one mind. Of course, they did. All of them did, the members of Val'gara, and the members of The Collective. They were of one mind, one existence. The Hivemind that made them up, that held them together. They worked in perfect syncronocity. The Chrysaor stepped forward, one giant, taloned foot digging into the ground beneath the massive weight of the creature. His elongated snout, scale-like skin, and reptilian tail belied his true intelligence. To many, he seemed like some prehistoric beast of Earthen lore, but inside his head sat a brain far superior to most creatures.

"<You wish to find those worthy of joining us, Hellion, then we should not search these worlds. These backwater planets, they hold no worth. No value. They are only food. Let us consume.>" His voice broke into their minds, the only manner of speaking he could manage. His forked tongue not made for human speech, besides - opening his mouth generally lead to the unleashing of a psionic storm so strong it scrambled even the strongest of minds.

"Yes, Hellion. I think it time we move on from here." The Will of Idea, as he'd once thought of himself, spoke directly to them all. They turned their heads toward him, and defiance showed on all of their faces. Yet, they couldn't contain it there. Will was behind Azaroth and Hellion in their heirarchy, and while Hellion could overule him, he saw no need in it. This planet didn't have what they wanted, and so they'd move on. Yet, as Val'garan nature dictated, the planet would not.

Consume.

Convert.

Control

The planet held only the makings of General Cataclysm, and the Scourgebearer no longer had room for more of those. Nothing here seemed worth controlling, and so that too wasn't an option. Consume it, they would then. Hellion closed his eyes, and the ground ruptured as his Mist-body began to spread out. Translucent, shimmering Mist began to float down through the crust and the sod. It tore through the planet, and then in a single moment it heaved upward. The result of it was the explosion of everything around them, the breaking down of it into Bioforce, the essentials of life. The soul, the manifestation of existence. Aether, Magicka, whatever it was called in whatever realm, they broke it down and consumed it. It fed them. It sustained them.

The Collective was hungry. The planet lost all semblance of life in seconds, as the base particles became nothing more than food for the hungry. Perhaps, Hellion thought, the next planet will have more delicious prey.

Asher.
New Member

Posts: 39

Collective Willpower (Asher v Lysander) Feb 28, 2019 6:31:17 GMT

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Post by Asher. on Feb 28, 2019 6:31:17 GMT

[ CHAPTER V. Life Goes On. ]

Adamant in spreading their fallacies, the ignorant reign supreme based on unscrupulous means and the enlightened are ensnared within the austerities of their own faith. There is, however, a select conglomerate of individuals that rested just on the line of the obscured and held an abundantly supreme amount of knowledge as opposed to others, unbeknownst to just what went on — These individuals then formed a Kingdom rivaling the forlorn prowess of God's themselves, known only as the Scarlet Moon Empire.

His quarters were as spacious and desolate as ever, but that didn't stop Hyojin Elyon Ryuusei from confining himself to the smallest inner vestibule possible, beads of sweat cascading down his visage, albeit devoid of any other visible indications of strain. Perhaps the fact that he was sweating wasn't a direct gateway to the assumption that he'd been physically spent, but mentally. The concept he'd been learning to grasp was quite the tricky one, but he thinks he has it downpact, now. Motes of ether slide down an immaculate and aloof facade with an exuberance like no other, until there's a few well-placed knocks at refurbished wood.

"Enter."

The slick baritone of his voice reverberated throughout the massive atrium with ease, as his emerald hues are unsheathed from their diminutive prisons upon the entrance of another. A perfect figure enters the room, the embodiment of tenacity and underlying furor enclosing the passionate and eager visage of a woman who truly loves what she does — Anyone, by a single glance, is able to decipher that. A clipboard is plastered to a bust rivaled by no other, and as she speaks, angels cry.

"We've detected something. Something big. Zukio has immediate orders for you to traverse the void and find out just what's causing the disappearances of heavenly bodies — He knows you're the only one who can handle it."

Her fluff words of encouragement weren't needed, but much appreciated, as shown by a slight, good-natured smile creeping across his flawless demeanor. In reality, he knows of his own capabilities and is well-aware of the abnormal occurrences that'd become quite a norm. Zu tells him to wait, Po tells him to charge. Both conceptual ideals, however, have one thing in common — They can't allow Hyojin to allow this to go much further. Right now, in his current form, he's a strappingly perfect mesomorph, shamelessly unclothed but by now Emilia knows what he looks like. She's been there, done that, and wrote an entire book on it as proof, but digressions aren't necessary. She doesn't break eye contact when speaking, like most people do when peering into the divine seas that were his eyes. As a result, his response is concise and yet, as cryptic as ever. "Avrim Ladon."

The utterance of these two words merited the world around them to shake slightly, similar to a more profound aftershock of a normal quake, as the breaker of world's ripped through the skies with all of the might of an imminent tempest. Two flaxen gauntlets no more so than the wildly voracious tresses resting atop his crown slipped onto languid palms with ease, waves of ether pervading his quarters in the form of vast gusts of wind. The brunette sighs, before pointing to his chest to indicate that before he left he'd need some clothing. Of course, this was false, but he wasn't one to argue, especially not with her.

With slipping into his crisply pressed alabaster slacks, he vanished from the atrium in a flurry of incandescence.

Or, rather, made his appearance.
_________

A brilliant shock against the graphite sky would register too late for the eyes not attuned to his own exotic ether, seeing as that was what merited his nigh-instantaneous passage. With his existence on any plane other than the ones he's previously been to, law's begin to shift slightly to conform and pander to this monstrous mesomorph. Waves of ethereal chi exude unceasingly from his shirtless physique lodging into surrounding energies and broiling most within a short moment in the radius of one hundred meters from his own form, three hundred and sixty degrees effectively.

He clenches his clad left fist and looks to his opposition, no shorter than fifteen feet away, only to bless him with a smile showcasing saccharine veneers.

"Spit that out." He chuckles at his own dry humor. That, however, would be the last joke told, as he planned on destroying whatever this thing was, thoroughly and completely. The Dragon Fist was ready.

Last Edit: Feb 28, 2019 6:31:58 GMT by Asher.

Adell: “...then welcome to eternity, future King of Dragons.”

Lysander
Junior Member

Posts: 69

Collective Willpower (Asher v Lysander) May 20, 2019 16:28:37 GMT

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Post by Lysander on May 20, 2019 16:28:37 GMT

Already, they began their search for something else. Something more. Their hunger unabated, their bodies demanding more sustenance. They couldn’t fathom this hunger, couldn’t see an end to it. Eternal, it tore through them and ravished their bodies. And yet, it seemed not detrimental to their power. Starvation was nothing more than the madness driving them forward, all of them. The power of Val’gara was in their hunger, and their nature. It was the driving force behind those things people called evil, and yet did they not need to eat? Was food not something they required? Val’garan were scarcely different, though their hunger would not kill them – at least it hadn’t yet. Is it evil for a man to eat when hungry? For a man to find sustenance and quench and quell the beast within his gut demanding sacrifice for the nature of their humanity? Of course not, and yet the Val’garan weren’t man. They weren’t humanity. They were the antithesis to humanity, as many Earths could attest. They slumbered for centuries at a time, only to be awakened by the great cataclysms, to be brought to bear as an enemy of order. They were the tool the Multiverse used to sort out the balance.

Or they were just monsters feeding on women and children and whole worlds for the sake of feeding. For the sake of their own twisted goals and gains. They probably didn’t even have a real mission, any real guidance behind their actions. Stories differed from world to world, realm to realm. No one really knew what they were, or what they wanted. Those that could have found out, never lived to spread the news. And so rumours began, they floated from one ear to the next until they were taken as cold, hard fact. Hellion heard many of those rumors himself, during his time living amongst them – learning their ways and pretending to be one of them to hide from Magnus, from the deal he’d made. They all lingered in his mind, even as he thought of them the others saw the thoughts in his head.

Their laughter rang out over the sound of the planet dying, until it too died. As the laughter fell, nothing remained around them except the inky blackness of the vacuum. In that silence, Hellion found solitude and peace. Their voices still rang in his mind, and their thoughts still washed over him the same instance they had them, that he had them. Their thoughts were one, they were so intricately connected that one could not even move without the permission of the other – and yet it happened so instantly, so swiftly, that it seemed they moved with one body. Perhaps, in time, they would move with only one body. If something ever pushed them to that limit, to that level. For now, though, they remained separated - they remained just short of whole. Hellion pondered this, as the Mist consumed the last of the planet and began to coalesce around him – its deathly touch like the gentle stroke of a lover’s hand on his arm. It floated around him, calmly sauntering between himself and the others. Where the planet once stood, only a giant cloud of it sat. Larger than the planet, surrounding them, obscuring them.

It was a wonder that the newcomer, when he finally showed himself and his bioforce became apparent nearby – they sensed it coming from lightyears off, that amount of bioforce could feed them for months, after all – didn't inadvertantly plop himself down into the Mist, much less could see them through it enough to speak to them. His words were meant to be funny, Hellion supposed, though he found no humor in them. He found humor in very little, anymore. His head canted to the side, and he turned to face the man. His hat settled back on his head, made from the Mist surrounding him – the large stetson, the long duster. He looked straight out of a spaghetti western, save for his terrifying transluscent body.

“Oh, my brothers...and sister...we have a guest. Unwelcomed, uninvited. He wants to join us for dinner.”

It was clear Hellion meant to have him for dinner, they all did really. What Hellion, or more accurately, what Azaroth decided became their only true goal. If The Dragon Fist sought to stop them, he’d be in for a very, very rude awakening.