Konton
New Member
Who the hell ate all the Ramen?
Posts: 32
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Post by Konton on Dec 25, 2020 8:26:37 GMT
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Konton
New Member
Who the hell ate all the Ramen?
Posts: 32
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Post by Konton on Mar 16, 2021 19:02:54 GMT
Desolate and barren, the beading sun finally departing from the sky. The heat was nearly visible to the naked eye, though the climate cooled from the shift of the star’s presence in the sky. The desert’s winds picked up, blowing gently against the sandstone that was used to build the skyscraper-like pyramids that took residence along the surface of the planet. Beside those structures seemingly were the skeletons of the slaves that worked to build them, only to die in the desert’s scorching heat; a tragic sight to see. It was almost like God had condemned this planet to be nothing more than a place for those unworthy to rot, to toil away at the sand, having no hope for the future. The place wasn’t as progressive or technologically advanced as some of the other places Duran had been to within his life, but it definitely had its own “charm”. If you consider nothing but cactuses, vultures and animal carcesses for miles, charm. The wasteland reminded our lone Emperor of his home, well the planet he got to see after its ruination… Nothing but dying vegetation and people riddled with disease; albeit those people were saved by the quick actions of Duran. He felt reminiscent, honestly just being on a planet resembling home reminded of all the things he’d left behind in his journeys, moreso what he has yet to return to… Unfortunate though it may be, it wasn’t the time to focus on such trivial matters that involved Old Disnomia. The time had come to focus on the task at hand, as a Curator his job was to scout out planets; making first contact not only to discover new material that could be brought back to the ship, but those expensive things lost to time that could be of use.
Whether it be a weapon or some ancient relic, it was his job to find it. Though this time around he didn’t bring any of his crew members along with him, he wanted some peace and quiet. Babysitting two tree hippies can be a hassle, especially when they both have the mental capacity of a doughnut being carried by an earthworm. He raised his foot to gently rest atop a rock, using his supernatural perception to scan his surrounding area, mainly for any signs of sentient life in hopes there’d be any left. But it seemed there wasn’t not a single person, he couldn’t even feel anyone’s presence within his general vicinity. Suppose that happens in places like this, who knows how long the planet itself has been desolate. A soft sigh escaped his lips, guess it was about time for Duran to search in his own unique way, albeit a bit unconventional considering the size of the planet. His chains unraveled from his forearms, extending downwards to rest against the sand, like a serpent the links of metal sprung forward to the nearest structure only to strike “gold”. Though it was rather unexpected for these extensions of himself to bring back an entire sarcophagus filled to the brim with what seemed like accessories, lifting them up in his hands though.... The metal seemed to crumble away into dust from years upon years of wasting away within the tomb they were found in.
The mission was a bust!
A bit of agitation flared up, coupled by impulse in his fit of anger; the chains wrapping around the glorified box and crushing it into the dust it held inside of it. His fluctuation of emotion woke up his companions, moreso the epiphany that became his closest friend over their period of time together.
“What’re you pouting about now?” The Immortal remarked sleepily.
“Shut it, space dust just wasn’t what I was expecting from a golden box.”
“Seems like Fafnir has gotten you into that greedy collector thing huh…”
“Quiet down bastard, there’s nothing wrong with wanting a few new toys to tinker with. I don’t see why this would have anything to do with the overgrown lizard!”
“Sure it doesn’t, but you’ve been somewhat acting like him you know..”
He disregarded the final comment made by Kishin, not allowing it to get under his skin. To look at the positive spectrum of things, he took in the sun’s fading colors as nightfall slowly descended upon him. He indulged in the quiet, allowing himself to have a bit of tranquility, to keep his cool; considering who was amongst his crew, he’d need it for when he returned. Who knows what the rag tag team of losers would get themselves into this time around. But, for now, he’d just enjoy the moment. It’s been a long time since he’d done so anyways, after training for so long it was well deserved; Rio had put him through hellish conditions either way.
“Wonder if there’s any space rats around… Wouldn’t want to get Space AIDS out here.”
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Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2021 3:34:36 GMT
The castle of Fabrolias always reminded him of the one from his motherland, it was like a fortress built of alabaster, an immaculate world suffused with a regal atmosphere. If one were to raise their head to look to its mantle, they would see the dazzling array of Etherion chandeliers suspended above at fixed intervals, radiating a protean light.
The broad hemispherical dome which housed the main hall had brilliantly polished marble floors, in which pronounced themselves with the brilliance of the etheric chandeliers. The luster presented a unique value as it would appear as though constellations were embedded in its surface.
If a foreigner were to open these doors on both sides of the hall, their presence was subsumed under the ambiance of a true utopia. Any third party observing this scene would probably be staring in absolute awe at the magnificence that is Fabrolias.
Such were the feelings he once felt in what seemed a lifetime ago, and even as he stands within this holy sanctuary now, it soon filled his heart once again. "This is a pretty aggravating state of affairs." Rio muttered to himself as he proceeded along the vacant path in front of him. Despite nostalgia becoming a soothing, prevalent expression. It was evident by his disposition that something had been irking him. The corners of his mouth tugged into a frown, and his narrowing gaze appeared as though he was seeking that certain something with malicious intentions.
The resonant thud of Rio's footsteps and the clanking of his sheathed blade rang throughout the ivory castle. And it was only after turning several corners in this vast corridor, Rio saw one of the house servants from afar, heading into his direction. She was dressed in literally nothing, but her own voluptuous figure that she was inherently gifted. She was roughly the same stature of the esteemed Dragonslayer, with a far more curvaceous build. Her overall appearance was attractive, and gave the impression of being graceful and sophisticated.
As the two eventually met each other, the servant darted to the side of the hallway and bowed reverently to the noble in her midst. In return, Rio raised his hand in acknowledgment. From there, he abruptly stops his saunter and turns to the woman, where he notices her suggestive expression. It was unmoving, almost uncanny, it was a smile on her face in which roused the belief of "She knows where he is."
And without hesitation he blurted out, "You know where the bastard went, don't ya'?" The servant was a personification of Adell's interests, but also formidable in their own right.
If there was anyone whom possessed the means to seek a person out without dealing with the cryptic Apocrypha, it was them. "You're speaking of the one who contracted with Fafnir, yes?" A sultry voice inquired back to him, already hinting about the man of the hour. "Yeah, I'm talkin' about that dickhead." Rio replied scornfully, "He must've forgotten what he had to do today."
The intricacy of the situation, especially the finer circumstances that made it what it is, was enough to make him sigh in disappointment. Masashi having goaded the young man into breaking the seals in which the Second Brood was confined under was a tremendous sin, but to create an even greater offense. He created a contract with it. A contract with potentially one of the most entropic primals to exist here and now. Never mind how he managed to find Fafnir, but he ended up with a similar sentence that Rio once had. Having been ordained by the God Dragon, it was only natural for him to be under direct supervision by the officials of Fabrolias. Incidentally, it was Rio who undertook the obligation.
Just as he was contemplating these matters, the servant raised her head, as though she had noticed something, and tilted her head in curiosity. "Sir, do you need to know where he is?"
As Rio recalled the documented events lent to him prior by the noble archivists, his attention was captivated by her question. He glanced at her unsettling glee and nodded off to the side. "Naturally, I have to seek him out if he ends up going too far." As he thought, there was no time for him to spend ruminating.
"Then allow me."
She brought her arms in front of her bosom, creating elaborate gestures with her hands, which appeared to gather a spiraling essence in the vacant space within. This turquoise energy, albeit translucent enough to see through it, had begun to reflect a barren landscape as it expanded in front of the servant. Eventually, becoming a mirror-like portal that towered above her and even the Dragonslayer himself. Ethereal wisps of Ether furled dreamily from the contours of this gate. Rio could not help but be impressed by her efficient path finding. There was no doubt in his mind how Adell was capable of sleuthing him out even in the farthest reaches of the Multiverse.
"Thank you kindly."
Rio peered through the portal and at the servant who merely bowed her head back down. She did not seem to particularly care about praise, and that was only to be expected. As he entered into the portal, where his body had suddenly degraded into the greenish-blue essence; the world would wither away into white through his field of view.
And not even a breadth of a moment less, he was welcomed by the unpleasant texture of stifling winds. From atop a bronze foothill, Rio lurched onto the badlands with his weather-beaten jackboots as the ghostly window to Fabrolias disintegrated into motes of essence. His unruly, hickory mane billowed like clothes against the current.
The fugitive heat in the ground beneath him was the only inviting feeling that could be felt in this desolate shithole. The Dragonslayer walked stolidly, suppressing his impulse for rage, not wanting to depart from a sense of rationale. Treading down the foothill brought him to the paved road of sediments that were wound like a serpent up until the egress of a pyramid-shaped ruin. He watched the path patiently, toward the neighboring spires, somewhat hoping or expecting to see the brash bastard rear his ugly mug, but merely because his signature was becoming prevalent within his supernatural peripherals. Duran was close, but only relatively so. Close enough to hear his schizophrenic shouting travel through the sky.
Within moments of him kicking his legs off the ground, Rio was rendered underneath a plume of smoke that exploded from his feet springing forth. An unrivaled whirlwind followed the dust devil made manifest, as he stomped, and subsequently rooted himself just seven meters behind the youngster, who did not appear to be much of a youngster anymore.
The training that the Dragonslayer imposed was shaping him out, it seemed. And as the gales of dust swept across the wasteland, and naturally at the back of Duran; a familiar voice barked at him. "Didja' think it was gonna be easy for you to run, boy!?" A hoarse, western accented voice that inspired his dread with or without context.
Looming over him stood his observer and aptly designated teacher, having promptly lost the composure he desired to maintain.
His umber eyes trained in on Duran, like a predator sizing up its prey. The titan-esque warrior adorned in regal threads, featuring an auburn overcoat elaborately detailed with golden trimmings at the seams, worn over a copper dress shirt, left unbuttoned at the collar, albeit radiating elegance and finesse with such complementary colors. His sable slacks are fastened by a leather cincture with an intricately designed medallion at the buckle, forged of silver, and appearing to be an insignia from the Fabrolian military regime. It almost identically matched the sheening pommel of the sword finely weighted to his side. The coal-tempered hue of the handle had its own luster against the evening sun whilst all the dust cleared, where the pronged cross guard of diamond-shaped sides, and its trenchant blade seemed connected altogether in a boiled leather sheathe. Its four and a half feet of length could still be wielded dexterously with a grip accommodating only for "a hand and a half".
It was instinctive of him to have his hand resting atop the bulbous surface of the pommel, prepared to draw, and expecting Duran to steel himself for battle. It was an ominous feeling, having a sword at his side in which the young man had never seen before. Truth be told, it suggested a certain seriousness.
There was a lesson to be learned, and an ass-kicking to be issued. Whether he fought or fled remained to be seen, but obviously there would be nowhere for him to run.
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Konton
New Member
Who the hell ate all the Ramen?
Posts: 32
|
Post by Konton on May 4, 2021 23:10:12 GMT
BGM - Encirclement BattleForeboding wasn't it… The air that loomed seemed to become weary of the presence that suddenly descended upon the distant world. It seemed the Dragonslayer wasn't happy with his pupil's decision to traverse the vast cosmos on his own. Or at least straying too far from what now became his home. The Supernova was a bit perplexed at the appearance of one of his mentors, his caretaker, since he had forged his contract with the Avaricious Eogazurd; Fafnir. A writhing feeling swelled in his chest viewing the man who was not only his commander, fellow captain, but also his trainer. It was almost nostalgic seeing him, but at that same time… a drag. The Dragonslayer was here to take him back to Fabrolias, where Duran would be overseen and watched as if he was a child. Inevitable distress was to be upon the forlorn Supernova, since he already understood how the Dragonslayer would conduct himself. There was no getting out of it, looks like he was going to get scolded for leaving the Kingdom from sheer boredom. It was a pain to say the least, his probation due to Fafnir's coexistence was taken out of proportion! But it caused the silver tongue serpent to awaken within his psyche, for the Progenitor could feel Azadaja's vessel approach. Hatred swelled within his breast, feeling encumbered by the sudden weight of malice in his subconscious mind Duran almost gave in. It was almost as if Fafnir was trying to take control. Anger continued to fester, it was like a part of his internal desire for domination was thrust into his mind, constantly pounding and forcing its way forward into his brain. This ghastly feeling soon became not only a source of strength, but a shackle that would bind him to Fafnir’s own will for as long as he lived. But… This wasn’t about the overgrown lizard, for once he could shut up. Either way… It wasn't happening, Duran wasn’t going to let this overpowering force take the forefront of his mind so easily. Fafnir's own ambition had no business settling this matter whatsoever, well his selfish desire to do away with those of the First Brood, those who sealed away his existence for years that seemed without end. "Didja' think it was going to be easy for you to run boy!?" The Supernova sighed, honestly he didn’t want to engage in battle but it seemed like the overgrown lizard merged with him was ready to go. Fafnir wanted to kill Azadaja and the vessel; albeit their ambitions didn’t align at first… A piloting flame was set ablaze in the breast of Duran, something about the prospect of being the victor in a bout against his mentor was appealing to him. “Not really, old man. So I was just passin’ the time, it got boring being on lockdown.”He took the liberty to prepare himself as well, taking his stance with a sudden materialization of his Artifice; Phantyrion. The weapon’s traits made itself present; light suddenly shifted around the Supernova, almost as if he himself was not in tune with the plane that he resided on. The chains that were around him pivoted in a serpent manner, erecting themselves. They acted as extensions of his being, his very existence and from them an ambient presence etched its way into the conventional plane in every direction. An aura flared, a mesh of colors occupying the vacant space around him; this was a display of the three consciousnesses that reside inside the vessel that is Duran were ready for battle. Amber radiance filled the area, the chains which autonomously flung themselves around Duran’s being extended outwards; moving faster than the natural eye could perceive, instantly bringing themselves closer to the Dragonslayer’s vicinity. Several chains took place on either side of him, arching to align themselves for lashes which persistently whipped to aim for the Dragonslayer’s torso and arms. Each imbued that luminescent glow that bloomed beforehand; this was the golden blessing of the Immortal Companion which trained alongside Duran all that time within Fabrolias under the guidance of those who reigned over him in authority. This was something new, an extension of the Demi Plane through the chains which manifested from the incorporeal essence of the Progenitor of Greed himself. The Immortal worked in tandem with the Eogazurd, both attentively using their skills to aid Duran in this battle against someone far more powerful than he was; after all, what was about to happen was about to go down in the history books. “Let’s make this a grand show old man, everyone should remember it!”
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