“So.” He said calmly, “Here I am again, where I’ve never been before.”
His hands rested in his pants pockets, separating the front of his cargo vest yet further. Canvas tan seemed a theme about him, cargo pants not quite reaching the absurd number of pockets found on his vest. The velcro-strapped collars of his weightlifting gloves showed just where wrists vanished into khaki depths, and the shirt beneath his vest was a deep blue color that seemed almost to signify that he was not all light- some was darkness.
A perhaps overly dramatic wind kicked up in the empty street, between rows of two-story houses older and newer in a variety of colors. It was well-fit to stir hair dramatically. Pity his was too short to move at all, cropped off less than an inch in length, seeming there only to darken his scalp to a near-black tone of brown. He leaned on the wall of a gray-painted apartment building on one corner, in this place, stained and worn leather workboots crossed, one toe and one sole on the concrete of the sidewalk.
“Droll, isn’t it?”
A twitch of his nose caused blue-framed glasses of rectangular lense to shift slightly up his hawklike nose on one side, nearly brushing one high, freckled cheekbone. Aside that spot of color, he seemed rendered near-entirely in muted tones, to match the dull gray fog enveloping the streets of San Francisco- or was it San Francisco? It seemed mid-morning, and nobody was there but him.
“How these things work out. I suppose I ought to appreciate that. It keeps things stable, you could say.”
Then there was that other thing that stood out on this pale, Caucasian man. Aside his Irish-seeming features, aside his precise enunciation and deep but almost toneless voice- his eyes. They seemed almost to shine faintly, chips of icy gray-blue. That heavy, almost lantern-jaw shifted again with quiet, understated speech- though his voice carried far greater distances than its volume would suggest.
“And now someone will likely come, and we shall fight. I wonder if it will become interesting, this fight. I shall have to try to maintain perspective, I suspect.
“So, then. In the interest of not taking all day, nor of seeming completely daft.... Where are you? And who are you? You that comes to fight. Ah, and what is your name, as well? Not the same thing as who you are, I can be certain of that much. The word ‘rose’ in no way conveys the full nature of the plant nor even the flower taken therefrom.”
Clinical Absurdity for Two
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Precursor
- Member
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Protracted analysis.
"I suppose I'm not that interesting, am I?"
He seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be speaking to himself. "No, I'm not running rampant and blasting everything in sight. I could do that, but it's overdone and far too showy. It lacks respect and consciousness.
"I'm not challenging one person in particular, either. It's too exclusive." He paused, then, leaning his head back against the bricks of the wall he was slouched against. "You know, it makes sense to do that if you're trying to do many things at once. I can understand it. I even agree with it sometimes.
"But not now. Not here. Not for this."
The man stood away from the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets and started to walk. The soles of his boots scuffed the gray concrete squares as he moved, a slow, relaxed motion. His movements, his stance spoke of a kind of casual relaxation that his tone of voice upheld. He seemed bored, almost- but moreso he seemed calm.
"After all, if you want to check certain things- well, being picky is counterproductive. I'd hate to wind up coming back here later and showing myself that I will have done something.... oh, what's the word we use for that. Elitist."
He stepped down into the street from the curb, not bothering to look either way as he crossed the slow rise and then fall of the blacktop spanning between blocks.
"You know, it's hard to not get accused of that when you have standards. Funny, isn't it? Standards are part of how we establish civilization- but they're also how we mess things up in it. It's how the elite and the upper-class separate themselves from those less rich, less familied.
"Not that that's actually accurate. So-called 'noble' families often wind up more broken than the dirt-poor ones. I wonder if it's because they've had less reason to become tolerant beforehand?
"Well, no matter. I know someone is here, somewhere. I can reminisce and think any time that I like- perhaps you should come out, hm? Maybe we can begin."
A step up onto the far curb beneath a stopsign.
"Don't expect me to goad you with infantile insults. I'm not here to prove who's a bigger potty mouth or who is more stubborn. I don't think that's ever really been the point.
"I'm just here for a bit of a fight."
"I suppose I'm not that interesting, am I?"
He seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be speaking to himself. "No, I'm not running rampant and blasting everything in sight. I could do that, but it's overdone and far too showy. It lacks respect and consciousness.
"I'm not challenging one person in particular, either. It's too exclusive." He paused, then, leaning his head back against the bricks of the wall he was slouched against. "You know, it makes sense to do that if you're trying to do many things at once. I can understand it. I even agree with it sometimes.
"But not now. Not here. Not for this."
The man stood away from the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets and started to walk. The soles of his boots scuffed the gray concrete squares as he moved, a slow, relaxed motion. His movements, his stance spoke of a kind of casual relaxation that his tone of voice upheld. He seemed bored, almost- but moreso he seemed calm.
"After all, if you want to check certain things- well, being picky is counterproductive. I'd hate to wind up coming back here later and showing myself that I will have done something.... oh, what's the word we use for that. Elitist."
He stepped down into the street from the curb, not bothering to look either way as he crossed the slow rise and then fall of the blacktop spanning between blocks.
"You know, it's hard to not get accused of that when you have standards. Funny, isn't it? Standards are part of how we establish civilization- but they're also how we mess things up in it. It's how the elite and the upper-class separate themselves from those less rich, less familied.
"Not that that's actually accurate. So-called 'noble' families often wind up more broken than the dirt-poor ones. I wonder if it's because they've had less reason to become tolerant beforehand?
"Well, no matter. I know someone is here, somewhere. I can reminisce and think any time that I like- perhaps you should come out, hm? Maybe we can begin."
A step up onto the far curb beneath a stopsign.
"Don't expect me to goad you with infantile insults. I'm not here to prove who's a bigger potty mouth or who is more stubborn. I don't think that's ever really been the point.
"I'm just here for a bit of a fight."
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Galefore
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- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
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Bad Dragonite
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Bad Dragonite
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- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2006 7:24 pm
- Location: Hetalia
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OOC: As I said, long waits.../
----------
Where have you been!?" the voice, though in a whisper, seemed to ring out through the maze of alleyways.
It didn't matter though. Chances are anyone who was within distance probably had there own business to attend to. Scrounging for food in a nearby dumpster while fighting off a pack of mange ridden dogs. Getting harassed by a fat short legged tax collector who claims he is owed 700 Cs when he was just payed the day before. Getting mugged and having all of your half a loaf of bread for the month stolen by someone who justifies themselves by saying that they have their own belly to fill. Or perhaps just trying to find your left sock because you somehow seemed to have misplaced it after you filled it with rocks and knocked someone else unconscious for half a credit. But these kinds of pleasures were for the middle-class citizens.The ones who if they just got enough C to give the tax collector they might be able to start saving to get on the lift to go to the up. The up being a place of the richer families. Rumors had floated around for years that the streets of the up were made of pure silver, and that the sky itself was even visible at all moments, and not just once every three revolutions. It was the place of dreams, but alas... The day of paying the tax-collector enough never seemed to come for anyone. Maybe one or two people who befriended a politician while he/she was coming down, or simply someone who promised to be his/her slave, either way, it was a rarity that they would ever bring anyone on the lift with them... Either way, even if someone were close enough to hear and actually gave any care for such a thing, what would they do to stop them? Everyone here was sick and weakly, mostly from malnutrition and lack of sunlight..
It was very dark. Too dark. The only bit of light seemed to be a reflection of a glint of the moon and stars coming down somehow through a small hole somewhere atop the seemingly endlessly tall skyscraper sized pillars that were built eons ago under the Planet's crust. It was only slightly magnified by the puddle of what was assumed to be water on the ground. Of course there were other lights down here, but not in this part of the under area.
The voice came from a dark figure in a cloak, about three feet tall or so. It honestly just made them seem like a shadow in the night, when more closely observed, on could see a rift around the figure, blacker than any darkness itself that seemed to make the figure stand out even against the blackest of blacks. What was this cloak made of? One could only manage guess.
"I've been waiting here for at least five hours!" The figure said with a hiss. "Did you bring me what I asked for?"
Out of nowhere a softly speaking voice with enough power to shake the very air around them as if it dwelled in it. "I brought you what you needed..." The air rippled away in every direction slowly from one point as it spoke.
"Brriilllliiaantt!!" The first figure whispered as it chuckled under its breath then coughed. It was as if a whisper was all it could manage, perhaps after decades of maniacal laughter or the like.
At that moment a small brown satchel made of sack-clothe descended to the small figure. It seemed to muster all of its energy to hop up and desperately reach for the satchel rather than just wait the few moments it would have probably taken for it to get to him. If one looked close enough they could make out the wrinkled claw of some unholy creature that at one point must have been a man.
"Absssolutely PERrrFECTtt!"
The words seemed to slither through the air as the hooded figure said them while opening and looking into the satchel. Inside was a glimmering powder of a rainbow of colors was inside. They were mostly indistinguishable in such a dark place, but the powder seemed to give off its own source of light and allowed one to notice the large amounts of purples and ambers that were in it.
"The ashes of the ssseven sstarsss!"
The figure hissed as it seemed to fiddle with its cloak. A small clinking sound echoed as the figure dropped a vile to the ground, breaking it. The colourless liquid tat came out began sizzling as the shards of glass melted and came together into one grey glob in the middle of the puddle.
The figure began mumbling several un-discernible words while drawing a perfect circle around the puddle with the powder from the satchel. There were only three words from what it said that stood out. If not because of how much more clearly and loudly they were pronounced than the other words, then by the fact that they were repeated several times in varying orders. The words were, "Mala," "Magnus," and "Tempus."
After a few moments, everything inside the circle began glowing red, like molten rock. That is all, but the glob of liquified glass in the center itself rippling as if pure power was welling up just beneath it, but it remained perfectly shaped in a circle.
"And now for the final pieccccess!"
The cloaked one said seeming to shout and whisper at the same time.
It pulled out another vial, this time empty, and with the same hand holding the vial seemed to pull a very malevolent looking blade from thin air. Without a second thought the hooded creature sliced its own left ring finger off at the base. It didn't scream or yelp at the feeling of one of its own divisions coming off, no, it just chuckled as it picked up its own finger and squeezed what juices it could out of it and into the vial with the very hand it came from. The container was only about half full while the finger was quite literally bled dry. That measure was probably the only blood it had left in its body. All else was probably dust by now.
"Now for your part." the hooded creature said whilst pointing to the area the ripples came from earlier with his now four clawed hand.
It shielded itself from the flash of light that occurred when a small girl descended to the ground. Unconscious, she lay there lifelessly. She was clothed in rags and must have been no older than nine years of age and was probably younger. The creature hissed as it seemed to float over to the girl and plucked a single blond hair and a single brown hair from her head. He put the brown into the vial and shook it up a bit as it dissolved. He placed the very end of the blond hair, however, on the liquified glob of the circle. It stood perfectly still, and straight up.
As the cloaked figure turned back to the girl, he noticed she was beginning to wake up. He would finish this quickly. Just as soon as he had gotten the knife back out the girl had already woken up and was beginning to get up and run while screaming.
With an otherworldly screech the cloaked figure slashed at the girl, leaving a gash in her arm. She shrieked in pain and within moments had disappeared into the maze of alleyways.
Though at first yelling and cursing in anger, the cloaked one took a look at his blade and realized that it didn't matter. He got the blood he needed, and if he needed her again, there was a trail of blood...
A few drops of blood dropped into the vial later, and the elixir began boiling.
The hooded creature threw the vial onto the magical circle. A flash of light occurred, probably blinding any small creatures that were in the area.
The Circle was no longer red, but now a gray gelatinous mess that looked like partly liquified alloy, but it obviously wasn't just melted metals. It began moving. First just a ripple, then many more. Soon it was rippling to the point of spreading itself about the quasi-concrete ground. A lump soon formed in the center which soon began moving on its own as well.
The other-worldly shrieks and grunts would be unbearable to most, but the short cloaked creature, and even the shapeless voice seemed to enjoy it. The lump was a head. It was as if the metal was a portal. It stretched around the face of who or what ever it was like skin tight latex. It screamed and grunted and got about half way out before. it seemed to drop downward. Back down into the puddle portal from whence it came. The puddle itself seemed to swallow itself up and disappear into itself.
During all of this the shapeless voice in the empty space had been chuckling. Chuckling about something it knew that the creature who was now freaking out obviously didn't know.
"Wha!? WHa?! WHAAAAAATTsss!?!?"
"WH-WHEERE!?"
The shapeless voice let out a booming laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the underground.
"H-HOW c-Could you be laughing at a time like this!?"
The creature asked emphatically.
" My creation has disappeared! He is my creation! He's supposed to serve me!"
The bodiless voice's maniacal and malevolent laughter was now peaking. "AHAHAHA!! Your creation!? You didn't create him! You merely released him!"
...
_____________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, back in the mysteriously overly dramatic, empty, and foggy city...
A man was there, leaning on a stop sign as if waiting, sometimes thinking outloud to himself. But waiting for what or for whom? He would soon get his answer. If one were to shift their attention ever so slightly, from the man himself, to the gray-brick wall of a nameless building that lay directly behind him. One might see several types of glowing, crimson colored letters, mostly resembling the English alphabet with a few alterations, creeping onto and eventually covering the wall. If you listened closely you could hear the faint hissing sound that occurred as the dropletts of water making up the fog collided with the heated bricks. And what message did these characters on the wall attempt to convey? The phrase "MALA MAGNUS TEMPUS" repeated over and over.
In the center of the wall a ripple was forming, as if the brick in that specific area wasn't even there and was a simple illusion. A trick involving simple smoke, mirrors, and the like to reflect an image of a brick wall with lettering caused by lazers onto a pool of water. But a sideways pool of water? Probably not impossible, but why go through the trouble? Unless it wasn't a trick. Then why was the wall rippling like that? Perhaps it was a wormhole of some sort. Distorting the appearances of all things it came near.
A bubbling began in the center of the wall as a familiar lump began forming. The whole head of this creature slipped out of the wall as the sullen bricks seemed to become very aqueous. They stretched around his body like a kind of latex-ish film. The creature moaned a bit as it was about half way out, but the sound was easily over powered as another gust of wind came by.
As the creature got completely out of the wall it fell making a sort of cracking and splatting noise as it hit the ground. It was assuming the fetal position until it hit and picked itself up from the cement sidewalk. Naturally the man leaning on the stopsign heard the crack, unfolded his arms, and turned to see what made the sound all in an instant. All his gaze met with though was a puff of smoke that blended almost seemlessly into the fog. If it weren't for the extra movement caused by the difference in weight, the extremely slight difference in coloration, and the smell it would have been seamless.
The rectangularly bespectacled man walked over to the spot where the creature fell and as he looked around he realized he was stepping in something. Some sort of puddle, but it wasn't water. He knelt down and put the tip of his forefinger in the silvery mess and rubbed it a bit with his thumb. It was thicker than water, and felt a bit sticky. Just as he was beginning to get an idea of what it might be it flew from his hand directly into the wall he was facing, whick seemed to ripple with the impact. The man stepped back a bit as the rest of the puddle seemed to magnetically fly into the wall as well. After the it finished rippling the man touched the wall with his hand, but to no effect. It was just as hard and as solid as any other brick wall.
With that he heard a popping sound and as he turned around he saw someone, a man, dropping from another puff of smoke a good ten feet above the ground. the man landed in a kneeling position, but soon stood up. He wasn't very large, relatively slight actually. Very slim, and about 6 feet tall, more or less.
One thing that really stuck out about him quite literally, were his ears. They were long and pointed, much like an elf's might be. One could gather from them that he was caucasian with a slight tan. He had long straight blond hair that separated into two halves at the front. He wore a black tuxedo with a white dress shirt underneath that was unbuttoned at the top and a cloak that was black on the outer side and a silky red on the inside. Along with these he had a pair of white gloves and a black top hat. He carried a four-foot-long black cane with a white end and a silver handle, long and straight with its end breaking off into a small slant. It was shaped in a way that one could hold it much like a one handed gun. But he was twirling it about by it's middle. Another thing he wore was a white plastic mask with two blue dots where eyes should have been and a red crescent-shaped grin painted on. As he waved his hand over it, it seemed to disappear into thin air. underneath was the face of a young man of his early to mid twenties with a pointed nose and a smile to match. His eyes were a deep dark green that seemed to suck you in.
"WAHAHAHA!"
He laughed.
"I am the magnanimous, the magnificant magician of malevolent makings! Mala Magnus the magical maestro of majestic magnitude! You may call me Mala for short, or Magnus should you wish. I must ask that you might muster up enough forgiveness for my monotonous and magniloquent maelstrom of M-words.I was merely just awakened, you see? And I managed to make my way to this most wonderfully maleficent dimension while exploring the multiverses. I thought that there might be a monolithic challenge here that would be pleasing enough to mitigate my own millenia-old macabre lust for mayhem and mangling. I was mulling as to whether I might make the aquantance of the man that may be the challenge I'm looking for? "
The one in the vest just stood there. He must've been mustering together ideas of how many 'm-words' this man might manage to manipulate his mouth into materializing into so many sound waves.
----------
Where have you been!?" the voice, though in a whisper, seemed to ring out through the maze of alleyways.
It didn't matter though. Chances are anyone who was within distance probably had there own business to attend to. Scrounging for food in a nearby dumpster while fighting off a pack of mange ridden dogs. Getting harassed by a fat short legged tax collector who claims he is owed 700 Cs when he was just payed the day before. Getting mugged and having all of your half a loaf of bread for the month stolen by someone who justifies themselves by saying that they have their own belly to fill. Or perhaps just trying to find your left sock because you somehow seemed to have misplaced it after you filled it with rocks and knocked someone else unconscious for half a credit. But these kinds of pleasures were for the middle-class citizens.The ones who if they just got enough C to give the tax collector they might be able to start saving to get on the lift to go to the up. The up being a place of the richer families. Rumors had floated around for years that the streets of the up were made of pure silver, and that the sky itself was even visible at all moments, and not just once every three revolutions. It was the place of dreams, but alas... The day of paying the tax-collector enough never seemed to come for anyone. Maybe one or two people who befriended a politician while he/she was coming down, or simply someone who promised to be his/her slave, either way, it was a rarity that they would ever bring anyone on the lift with them... Either way, even if someone were close enough to hear and actually gave any care for such a thing, what would they do to stop them? Everyone here was sick and weakly, mostly from malnutrition and lack of sunlight..
It was very dark. Too dark. The only bit of light seemed to be a reflection of a glint of the moon and stars coming down somehow through a small hole somewhere atop the seemingly endlessly tall skyscraper sized pillars that were built eons ago under the Planet's crust. It was only slightly magnified by the puddle of what was assumed to be water on the ground. Of course there were other lights down here, but not in this part of the under area.
The voice came from a dark figure in a cloak, about three feet tall or so. It honestly just made them seem like a shadow in the night, when more closely observed, on could see a rift around the figure, blacker than any darkness itself that seemed to make the figure stand out even against the blackest of blacks. What was this cloak made of? One could only manage guess.
"I've been waiting here for at least five hours!" The figure said with a hiss. "Did you bring me what I asked for?"
Out of nowhere a softly speaking voice with enough power to shake the very air around them as if it dwelled in it. "I brought you what you needed..." The air rippled away in every direction slowly from one point as it spoke.
"Brriilllliiaantt!!" The first figure whispered as it chuckled under its breath then coughed. It was as if a whisper was all it could manage, perhaps after decades of maniacal laughter or the like.
At that moment a small brown satchel made of sack-clothe descended to the small figure. It seemed to muster all of its energy to hop up and desperately reach for the satchel rather than just wait the few moments it would have probably taken for it to get to him. If one looked close enough they could make out the wrinkled claw of some unholy creature that at one point must have been a man.
"Absssolutely PERrrFECTtt!"
The words seemed to slither through the air as the hooded figure said them while opening and looking into the satchel. Inside was a glimmering powder of a rainbow of colors was inside. They were mostly indistinguishable in such a dark place, but the powder seemed to give off its own source of light and allowed one to notice the large amounts of purples and ambers that were in it.
"The ashes of the ssseven sstarsss!"
The figure hissed as it seemed to fiddle with its cloak. A small clinking sound echoed as the figure dropped a vile to the ground, breaking it. The colourless liquid tat came out began sizzling as the shards of glass melted and came together into one grey glob in the middle of the puddle.
The figure began mumbling several un-discernible words while drawing a perfect circle around the puddle with the powder from the satchel. There were only three words from what it said that stood out. If not because of how much more clearly and loudly they were pronounced than the other words, then by the fact that they were repeated several times in varying orders. The words were, "Mala," "Magnus," and "Tempus."
After a few moments, everything inside the circle began glowing red, like molten rock. That is all, but the glob of liquified glass in the center itself rippling as if pure power was welling up just beneath it, but it remained perfectly shaped in a circle.
"And now for the final pieccccess!"
The cloaked one said seeming to shout and whisper at the same time.
It pulled out another vial, this time empty, and with the same hand holding the vial seemed to pull a very malevolent looking blade from thin air. Without a second thought the hooded creature sliced its own left ring finger off at the base. It didn't scream or yelp at the feeling of one of its own divisions coming off, no, it just chuckled as it picked up its own finger and squeezed what juices it could out of it and into the vial with the very hand it came from. The container was only about half full while the finger was quite literally bled dry. That measure was probably the only blood it had left in its body. All else was probably dust by now.
"Now for your part." the hooded creature said whilst pointing to the area the ripples came from earlier with his now four clawed hand.
It shielded itself from the flash of light that occurred when a small girl descended to the ground. Unconscious, she lay there lifelessly. She was clothed in rags and must have been no older than nine years of age and was probably younger. The creature hissed as it seemed to float over to the girl and plucked a single blond hair and a single brown hair from her head. He put the brown into the vial and shook it up a bit as it dissolved. He placed the very end of the blond hair, however, on the liquified glob of the circle. It stood perfectly still, and straight up.
As the cloaked figure turned back to the girl, he noticed she was beginning to wake up. He would finish this quickly. Just as soon as he had gotten the knife back out the girl had already woken up and was beginning to get up and run while screaming.
With an otherworldly screech the cloaked figure slashed at the girl, leaving a gash in her arm. She shrieked in pain and within moments had disappeared into the maze of alleyways.
Though at first yelling and cursing in anger, the cloaked one took a look at his blade and realized that it didn't matter. He got the blood he needed, and if he needed her again, there was a trail of blood...
A few drops of blood dropped into the vial later, and the elixir began boiling.
The hooded creature threw the vial onto the magical circle. A flash of light occurred, probably blinding any small creatures that were in the area.
The Circle was no longer red, but now a gray gelatinous mess that looked like partly liquified alloy, but it obviously wasn't just melted metals. It began moving. First just a ripple, then many more. Soon it was rippling to the point of spreading itself about the quasi-concrete ground. A lump soon formed in the center which soon began moving on its own as well.
The other-worldly shrieks and grunts would be unbearable to most, but the short cloaked creature, and even the shapeless voice seemed to enjoy it. The lump was a head. It was as if the metal was a portal. It stretched around the face of who or what ever it was like skin tight latex. It screamed and grunted and got about half way out before. it seemed to drop downward. Back down into the puddle portal from whence it came. The puddle itself seemed to swallow itself up and disappear into itself.
During all of this the shapeless voice in the empty space had been chuckling. Chuckling about something it knew that the creature who was now freaking out obviously didn't know.
"Wha!? WHa?! WHAAAAAATTsss!?!?"
"WH-WHEERE!?"
The shapeless voice let out a booming laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the underground.
"H-HOW c-Could you be laughing at a time like this!?"
The creature asked emphatically.
" My creation has disappeared! He is my creation! He's supposed to serve me!"
The bodiless voice's maniacal and malevolent laughter was now peaking. "AHAHAHA!! Your creation!? You didn't create him! You merely released him!"
...
_____________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, back in the mysteriously overly dramatic, empty, and foggy city...
A man was there, leaning on a stop sign as if waiting, sometimes thinking outloud to himself. But waiting for what or for whom? He would soon get his answer. If one were to shift their attention ever so slightly, from the man himself, to the gray-brick wall of a nameless building that lay directly behind him. One might see several types of glowing, crimson colored letters, mostly resembling the English alphabet with a few alterations, creeping onto and eventually covering the wall. If you listened closely you could hear the faint hissing sound that occurred as the dropletts of water making up the fog collided with the heated bricks. And what message did these characters on the wall attempt to convey? The phrase "MALA MAGNUS TEMPUS" repeated over and over.
In the center of the wall a ripple was forming, as if the brick in that specific area wasn't even there and was a simple illusion. A trick involving simple smoke, mirrors, and the like to reflect an image of a brick wall with lettering caused by lazers onto a pool of water. But a sideways pool of water? Probably not impossible, but why go through the trouble? Unless it wasn't a trick. Then why was the wall rippling like that? Perhaps it was a wormhole of some sort. Distorting the appearances of all things it came near.
A bubbling began in the center of the wall as a familiar lump began forming. The whole head of this creature slipped out of the wall as the sullen bricks seemed to become very aqueous. They stretched around his body like a kind of latex-ish film. The creature moaned a bit as it was about half way out, but the sound was easily over powered as another gust of wind came by.
As the creature got completely out of the wall it fell making a sort of cracking and splatting noise as it hit the ground. It was assuming the fetal position until it hit and picked itself up from the cement sidewalk. Naturally the man leaning on the stopsign heard the crack, unfolded his arms, and turned to see what made the sound all in an instant. All his gaze met with though was a puff of smoke that blended almost seemlessly into the fog. If it weren't for the extra movement caused by the difference in weight, the extremely slight difference in coloration, and the smell it would have been seamless.
The rectangularly bespectacled man walked over to the spot where the creature fell and as he looked around he realized he was stepping in something. Some sort of puddle, but it wasn't water. He knelt down and put the tip of his forefinger in the silvery mess and rubbed it a bit with his thumb. It was thicker than water, and felt a bit sticky. Just as he was beginning to get an idea of what it might be it flew from his hand directly into the wall he was facing, whick seemed to ripple with the impact. The man stepped back a bit as the rest of the puddle seemed to magnetically fly into the wall as well. After the it finished rippling the man touched the wall with his hand, but to no effect. It was just as hard and as solid as any other brick wall.
With that he heard a popping sound and as he turned around he saw someone, a man, dropping from another puff of smoke a good ten feet above the ground. the man landed in a kneeling position, but soon stood up. He wasn't very large, relatively slight actually. Very slim, and about 6 feet tall, more or less.
One thing that really stuck out about him quite literally, were his ears. They were long and pointed, much like an elf's might be. One could gather from them that he was caucasian with a slight tan. He had long straight blond hair that separated into two halves at the front. He wore a black tuxedo with a white dress shirt underneath that was unbuttoned at the top and a cloak that was black on the outer side and a silky red on the inside. Along with these he had a pair of white gloves and a black top hat. He carried a four-foot-long black cane with a white end and a silver handle, long and straight with its end breaking off into a small slant. It was shaped in a way that one could hold it much like a one handed gun. But he was twirling it about by it's middle. Another thing he wore was a white plastic mask with two blue dots where eyes should have been and a red crescent-shaped grin painted on. As he waved his hand over it, it seemed to disappear into thin air. underneath was the face of a young man of his early to mid twenties with a pointed nose and a smile to match. His eyes were a deep dark green that seemed to suck you in.
"WAHAHAHA!"
He laughed.
"I am the magnanimous, the magnificant magician of malevolent makings! Mala Magnus the magical maestro of majestic magnitude! You may call me Mala for short, or Magnus should you wish. I must ask that you might muster up enough forgiveness for my monotonous and magniloquent maelstrom of M-words.I was merely just awakened, you see? And I managed to make my way to this most wonderfully maleficent dimension while exploring the multiverses. I thought that there might be a monolithic challenge here that would be pleasing enough to mitigate my own millenia-old macabre lust for mayhem and mangling. I was mulling as to whether I might make the aquantance of the man that may be the challenge I'm looking for? "
The one in the vest just stood there. He must've been mustering together ideas of how many 'm-words' this man might manage to manipulate his mouth into materializing into so many sound waves.
-I'm Vgfian
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Bad Dragonite
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TRIPLE POST SCORE
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After a few moments of silence passed
"My what a malign malison of a moue! Such a malfeasance! However I must maintaim my composure and not turn to that train of thought. I must give you my humblest apologies for mistakenly having such a sudden outburst. I don't know what must have come over me. Either way, might we get this started now? I've been waiting many-a-moon for such an momentous occasion as this."
As he said this he pressed small button on his canes handle and twisted it 90 degrees clockwise then pulled it out slightly. Along with it in a small hollowed out part was an orange, marble-sized orb with a firecracker insignia on it. Mala held the cane by the handle and clicked the bottom tip on the ground. As he did this a thick smoke engulfed him leaving him unseen by his opponent. Who then ran forward to go after him but was met face first by the cane's mettalic handle. A cracking sound was heard at first, but was instantaneously drowned out by the loud crack of some energy coming between his face and the handle that threw him backward by about ten feet directly into the brick wall. A few small cracks occured where he collided with the aged building, but not much else. Mala wasn't done yet though. As the short-haired man regained his balance the Elven gentleman rammed the end of his cane directly into the area just between the other man's eyes. The back of his head slammed back into the wall again. And as his head bounced forward off of the wall it was engulfed in a stream of smoke. Mala then spun around to the left and attempted to smack his opponent in the left temple with the handle of his cane, but it was blocked by the other man's forearm. Another energy blast occured and sent Mala's opponent flying about fifteen feet to Mala's left, his opponent's arm leading the charge.
"Oooh that one must've stung, I'm surprised a bit. The limbs of most people had a good chance of coming off by such a hit if at a nice angle, but you managed to take it relatively well. Barely a scrath. Not a single muttering from you either." Mala said with a smile while fiddling with his cane then tapping its side on the stop sign. The small orb popped up from its slot and directly into Mala's right hand. "Not. A. Peep.." He continued as he tossed it at the ground that the other man was now getting up from. As it landed it bounced a bit then rolled harmlessly to the side of the work boots of the short-haired man.
"What!? Errrggh where's that revolver? He asked himself as he searched his sleeves, hat, and jacket frantically. While he did this the man in tan reached down, picked it up, and looked into it. Like he was trying to get a better perspective of what he was dealing with.
"This will have to do!" rang through the air as Mala in an instant pulled out a symmetrical dagger and without aiming, threw it in the Blue-shirted man's direction, but not at him. The man realized this and quickly tossed the marble sized object back toward Mala. The two objects collided in mid-air and a arge shockwave sent the two flying in opposite directions. They both came to a skidding stop, with their backs to the sidewalk. Mala picked himself up and muttered something to himself under his breath, then twisted the handle of his cane again, 90 degrees clockwise. He locked it in then pulled it back out. Now there was a magenta colored orb locked into place with a horseshoe shaped insignia. His cane glowed cane began radiating energy of the same color. He waved it like a wand. As he did this the very stop sign the other man was leaning on was uprooted and now floating in the air. A small hole was left where it was. It came swinging down at the head of the Canvas tan man, who rolled out of the way narrowly. The concrete slab stuck to the bottom of the sign shattered away into hundreds of smaller pieces. It floated back over to Mala and was now suspended directly in front of him.
Mala Magnus the new master of magnetism was waiting for his opponent now…
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[OoC]Hoping I portrayed your character correctly, as I wasn't sure how exactly he would react. And yes, I used the dictionary for some of the words, and am hoping I got at least most of the usage correct.[/OoC]
...
.......
..........
After a few moments of silence passed
"My what a malign malison of a moue! Such a malfeasance! However I must maintaim my composure and not turn to that train of thought. I must give you my humblest apologies for mistakenly having such a sudden outburst. I don't know what must have come over me. Either way, might we get this started now? I've been waiting many-a-moon for such an momentous occasion as this."
As he said this he pressed small button on his canes handle and twisted it 90 degrees clockwise then pulled it out slightly. Along with it in a small hollowed out part was an orange, marble-sized orb with a firecracker insignia on it. Mala held the cane by the handle and clicked the bottom tip on the ground. As he did this a thick smoke engulfed him leaving him unseen by his opponent. Who then ran forward to go after him but was met face first by the cane's mettalic handle. A cracking sound was heard at first, but was instantaneously drowned out by the loud crack of some energy coming between his face and the handle that threw him backward by about ten feet directly into the brick wall. A few small cracks occured where he collided with the aged building, but not much else. Mala wasn't done yet though. As the short-haired man regained his balance the Elven gentleman rammed the end of his cane directly into the area just between the other man's eyes. The back of his head slammed back into the wall again. And as his head bounced forward off of the wall it was engulfed in a stream of smoke. Mala then spun around to the left and attempted to smack his opponent in the left temple with the handle of his cane, but it was blocked by the other man's forearm. Another energy blast occured and sent Mala's opponent flying about fifteen feet to Mala's left, his opponent's arm leading the charge.
"Oooh that one must've stung, I'm surprised a bit. The limbs of most people had a good chance of coming off by such a hit if at a nice angle, but you managed to take it relatively well. Barely a scrath. Not a single muttering from you either." Mala said with a smile while fiddling with his cane then tapping its side on the stop sign. The small orb popped up from its slot and directly into Mala's right hand. "Not. A. Peep.." He continued as he tossed it at the ground that the other man was now getting up from. As it landed it bounced a bit then rolled harmlessly to the side of the work boots of the short-haired man.
"What!? Errrggh where's that revolver? He asked himself as he searched his sleeves, hat, and jacket frantically. While he did this the man in tan reached down, picked it up, and looked into it. Like he was trying to get a better perspective of what he was dealing with.
"This will have to do!" rang through the air as Mala in an instant pulled out a symmetrical dagger and without aiming, threw it in the Blue-shirted man's direction, but not at him. The man realized this and quickly tossed the marble sized object back toward Mala. The two objects collided in mid-air and a arge shockwave sent the two flying in opposite directions. They both came to a skidding stop, with their backs to the sidewalk. Mala picked himself up and muttered something to himself under his breath, then twisted the handle of his cane again, 90 degrees clockwise. He locked it in then pulled it back out. Now there was a magenta colored orb locked into place with a horseshoe shaped insignia. His cane glowed cane began radiating energy of the same color. He waved it like a wand. As he did this the very stop sign the other man was leaning on was uprooted and now floating in the air. A small hole was left where it was. It came swinging down at the head of the Canvas tan man, who rolled out of the way narrowly. The concrete slab stuck to the bottom of the sign shattered away into hundreds of smaller pieces. It floated back over to Mala and was now suspended directly in front of him.
Mala Magnus the new master of magnetism was waiting for his opponent now…
--------
[OoC]Hoping I portrayed your character correctly, as I wasn't sure how exactly he would react. And yes, I used the dictionary for some of the words, and am hoping I got at least most of the usage correct.[/OoC]
-I'm Vgfian
-
Precursor
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Protip: Alliteration shouldn't last long.
The khaki-clad young man gave his purported opponent a fairly blank look- at the most, he could be said to be vaguely curious, but even that was probably stretching the intent of his neutral expression. As he rose to his feet, one hand raised itself to rub at the bridge of his nose where a bruise was forming, just below the bridge of his glasses.
"You know, you're rather rude. Really, this is a regular routine for your raucous rate. Regular rebates are recommended, but I'm not so rash as to race for retribution. Ritual requires it, but a rush would be ridiculous."
His left remained loose at his side, right hand coming away from his face. "Par for the course, though. First you ask, then you don't wait for me to gather an answer. I suppose I ought to be irritated or something. Honestly, though, it's rather boring."
The pale-skinned man extended his right arm towards his magnetic opposition, the leather of the mesh-backed glove creaking slightly as he clenched most of the fingers, pointing at the plate of the stop-sign. For a few moments, nothing happened.
Then....
....nothing happened.
Finally, after several seconds of silence, the hand lowered. Mala quirked up one blond eyebrow.
"I changed my mind.
"I think I will start by being polite. I should explain- I have many names. At this point, it barely matters what you call me, so I won't bother with a full dissertation. In fact, it might be in-ter-es-ting...."
The four syllables of the word seemed to somewhere between wrench themselves from his mouth and be spat out, his neutral expression only marred by the slightest narrowing of his mouth, a faint lowering of his eyebrows. Why could not be said yet, only that it happened.
"...to have you guess. Since you seem to have left a large lexicon languishing in your lobes, you'll likely love the lack for a long lathing.
"...by the way, you're alliterating wrong." This last was punctuated by a quiet cough. A mere clearing of the throat.
"Storms may rise where water there is not, and many things may happen. Deserts dry and sand piles high, a thirsty man to sadden. You came here bearing mettle, and metal is your might- but there's a harder, stronger thing, a-swirling on windy nights. Heated breeze does arise, and sandstorms they shall fly. So, for one thing of such a kind, my nature did name I."
He paused there, mulling over his construction. "Yes, that'll do. Cogitate and masticate thereupon, my electron-orienting adversary. Mayhap you might make a mote of magic, and materialize the motions of my moniker.
"In the meantime, though, a taste."
That right hand stabbed out into the air now, fingertip glowing a brilliant white-blue as it remained pointed. The blue sleeve flapped slightly in the wind as the brunet's hand darted this way and that, leaving a tracery of lines in the air. One, two parallel, and two at an angle thereto, a third set of two bridging the gap. Three circles located vertex-wise were drawn next and then one larger circle again of double line to circumscribe the triangle- thought it left gaps across the three smaller ones.
"Ka." And a rune filled the top circle, then, "Yomake. Nor'ka."
Something changed just then. A moment of vertigo, of disorientation In that moment, Mala reacted and lashed out. The stop-sign speared forwards at the center of the glowing circle scribed vertically in the air, moving more than fast enough to strike the man before he could do anything with that odd- what -was- it? Magic? No matter. Then there was a twist-
-and the sign-end of the pole slammed into the middle of Mala's back, sending him forwards in a tumble with the wind knocked out of him. His daze slipped his control and the mass of metal loudly clattered to the sidewalk. A swift sound of bootsteps and then- silence. The tuxedoed man gathered himself and warily rose, lifting the stop sign. It wasn't hard to figure this one out from where he stood. Whatever the man in khaki had done, it had swapped his position with that of the taller, magnetic man.
"My my my!" He exclaimed as he dusted himself off. "Magnificent magic, your munificent mageness! Many men must have meandered for moons to muster the motions you made. My compliments. Make merry now, for soon you will make musical moans of magnetically-manipulated maimedness!"
The magnetics master reacted far more swiftly this time, slamming the pole-end of the sign into the brick of the wall as a six-pointed mandala- some kind of hexagram- seemed to form itself on the surface. There was a brief pause as the fifth rune started to form, then vaporised. Somehow it took its circle with it and thereby altered the shape to a pentacle. The sixth rune formed without pause, though, and the resulting eruption of flame from the wall thoroughly slagged the weapon, fusing it with the brick and then crumbling said blackened mudstuff.
"Cut that out, or at least do it right." The short-haired man spake, stepping through the hole to regard the blond man now standing far off to one side. A small faint bruise shone on one of his cheekbones. "It's starting to get annoying, and I don't like myself when I get angry."
The khaki-clad young man gave his purported opponent a fairly blank look- at the most, he could be said to be vaguely curious, but even that was probably stretching the intent of his neutral expression. As he rose to his feet, one hand raised itself to rub at the bridge of his nose where a bruise was forming, just below the bridge of his glasses.
"You know, you're rather rude. Really, this is a regular routine for your raucous rate. Regular rebates are recommended, but I'm not so rash as to race for retribution. Ritual requires it, but a rush would be ridiculous."
His left remained loose at his side, right hand coming away from his face. "Par for the course, though. First you ask, then you don't wait for me to gather an answer. I suppose I ought to be irritated or something. Honestly, though, it's rather boring."
The pale-skinned man extended his right arm towards his magnetic opposition, the leather of the mesh-backed glove creaking slightly as he clenched most of the fingers, pointing at the plate of the stop-sign. For a few moments, nothing happened.
Then....
....nothing happened.
Finally, after several seconds of silence, the hand lowered. Mala quirked up one blond eyebrow.
"I changed my mind.
"I think I will start by being polite. I should explain- I have many names. At this point, it barely matters what you call me, so I won't bother with a full dissertation. In fact, it might be in-ter-es-ting...."
The four syllables of the word seemed to somewhere between wrench themselves from his mouth and be spat out, his neutral expression only marred by the slightest narrowing of his mouth, a faint lowering of his eyebrows. Why could not be said yet, only that it happened.
"...to have you guess. Since you seem to have left a large lexicon languishing in your lobes, you'll likely love the lack for a long lathing.
"...by the way, you're alliterating wrong." This last was punctuated by a quiet cough. A mere clearing of the throat.
"Storms may rise where water there is not, and many things may happen. Deserts dry and sand piles high, a thirsty man to sadden. You came here bearing mettle, and metal is your might- but there's a harder, stronger thing, a-swirling on windy nights. Heated breeze does arise, and sandstorms they shall fly. So, for one thing of such a kind, my nature did name I."
He paused there, mulling over his construction. "Yes, that'll do. Cogitate and masticate thereupon, my electron-orienting adversary. Mayhap you might make a mote of magic, and materialize the motions of my moniker.
"In the meantime, though, a taste."
That right hand stabbed out into the air now, fingertip glowing a brilliant white-blue as it remained pointed. The blue sleeve flapped slightly in the wind as the brunet's hand darted this way and that, leaving a tracery of lines in the air. One, two parallel, and two at an angle thereto, a third set of two bridging the gap. Three circles located vertex-wise were drawn next and then one larger circle again of double line to circumscribe the triangle- thought it left gaps across the three smaller ones.
"Ka." And a rune filled the top circle, then, "Yomake. Nor'ka."
Something changed just then. A moment of vertigo, of disorientation In that moment, Mala reacted and lashed out. The stop-sign speared forwards at the center of the glowing circle scribed vertically in the air, moving more than fast enough to strike the man before he could do anything with that odd- what -was- it? Magic? No matter. Then there was a twist-
-and the sign-end of the pole slammed into the middle of Mala's back, sending him forwards in a tumble with the wind knocked out of him. His daze slipped his control and the mass of metal loudly clattered to the sidewalk. A swift sound of bootsteps and then- silence. The tuxedoed man gathered himself and warily rose, lifting the stop sign. It wasn't hard to figure this one out from where he stood. Whatever the man in khaki had done, it had swapped his position with that of the taller, magnetic man.
"My my my!" He exclaimed as he dusted himself off. "Magnificent magic, your munificent mageness! Many men must have meandered for moons to muster the motions you made. My compliments. Make merry now, for soon you will make musical moans of magnetically-manipulated maimedness!"
The magnetics master reacted far more swiftly this time, slamming the pole-end of the sign into the brick of the wall as a six-pointed mandala- some kind of hexagram- seemed to form itself on the surface. There was a brief pause as the fifth rune started to form, then vaporised. Somehow it took its circle with it and thereby altered the shape to a pentacle. The sixth rune formed without pause, though, and the resulting eruption of flame from the wall thoroughly slagged the weapon, fusing it with the brick and then crumbling said blackened mudstuff.
"Cut that out, or at least do it right." The short-haired man spake, stepping through the hole to regard the blond man now standing far off to one side. A small faint bruise shone on one of his cheekbones. "It's starting to get annoying, and I don't like myself when I get angry."
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Bad Dragonite
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The inside of the room that the hole led to was dark and plain. The walls were simple and white with nothing decorating them. The only light in the room came from the pale blue morning sunshine filtering in through a window over to the left and through the newly established hole. There was also a lamp hanging down about five feet above the ground in the center of the room, but its dull yellow light only filled a small area, like a flashlight pointing to the floor. Directly below it was a single wooden school desk, barely large enough for an average sized fifth grader. It was facing the back of the room where there was a green chalkboard stretching across the wall. To its right, just near the earlier mentioned window, was a staircase. Not an old, creaky, and narrow staircase or a wide metallic escalator. It was just a staircase, each step white with a brown wooden top on all. Where the stairs led was anyone's guess.
By the time Mala had stepped over the mess of black mudstuff that had been the stop sign he had previously wielded mixed in with mostly liquified brick, the man in tan was at the chalkboard. He stared at it as if there was something written thereupon only he himself could read.
"I would give an apology and an explanation for my compulsory actions earlier if I thought it would mean anything,” Mala said with a shrug. “But since it won't I'll keep it to myself. I am curious though, is your mysteriously mystifying hand work as fast as a bullet? "
The man turned around as Mala pulled out a small revolver from his coat and fired. As the blue shirted man turned he revealed that he had already drawn the circle from earlier that had caused the two to exchange places. The sound of the gunfire only seemed to occur half as long as it should have, but the moment that the two shifted caused a novel incident that cut off the bang.
Mala was now across the room, facing the chalkboard, gun still held outward. The short haired man would be facing the street through the hole in the wall mentioned earlier. He probably expected to hear the sound of a bullet hitting the other man in the back and a gasp as the wind rushed from his lungs, but instead he heard a slight chuckle and the sound of a ricocheting bullet hitting the wall then the ceiling. He then heard a piercing noise and felt incredible pain as the hot lead projectile punctured his left calf just above the Achilles tendon, tearing through muscle and blood vessels till it was stopped by his tibia. This all happened in a single instant of time.
The man dropped to one knee, grasping his wound, only worsening the pain. As he did he saw a purplish smoke coming out from under his boot as well as small pieces of glass. He didn't need to move his foot to realize that it was the magenta orb of magnetic makings that was loaded into his adversary's cane earlier. It was now shattered.
A low chattering noise began welling up all around them. Every nail, every cable, every pin, was rattling, trying to escape their cramped prisons to get to the proverbial siren's call that came from the shattered orb. The man whose name was a guessing game looked over to Mala and saw his cane radiating a dark red light.
Mala dropped his now unloaded gun to the floor and watched as it began dragging itself over to the other man's foot. Mala threw another grey ball to the floor causing a cloud of smoke to fill the area he had been standing in for that instant.
"I'm sure you'll come up with a way out of this one, you seem clever enough." Mala said while leaning against the outer wall of the building next to the special entrance the two had caused earlier, and next to the other man. "At least I hope you are, because if you aren't, then I may as well be searching this city for the true presence I felt radiating from this place."
A nearby car began slowly sliding towards the two and the next door building, a much more modern three story building, began groaning and creaking.
Mala spoke, "Well, I must go now. Tata."
Mala tipped his hat to the man and as he was about to throw another smoke bomb to the ground the other man grabbed his ankle, and instantaneously the two were at least a hundred feet away from the scene. The car flew into the building, leveling the wall with the hole. Several pings could be heard as the nails of the wooden foundation of the house collided with the vehicle along with many other things. The metal mass was floating directly over the area of the shattered orb, spinning like a globe. The car began being pulled into itself, scrunching up like a wad of paper. The house collapsed on itself for lack of a good foundation, and the next door building's metallic foundations flew out of its outer wall and collided with the metallic mass, causing the more modern building to collapse as well. As the two hulking metal things collided they both fell to the ground, each piece collapsing off then reforming into a globe of pieces again while regaining its defiance of gravity.
The pressure on the cars internal parts caused friction and then an explosion. The blast caused all the pieces to fly out in different directions, only to have each one just come back to form the globe again. The heat from the blast must've been extreme, as the different metallic pieces were melting and fusing together. Or was it something else? It had to have been, all of the metal there was now liquified, and was formed into a perfect sphere, just floating and spinning in place.
The purple glow faded away, and the giant iron, er, steel, er, metal ball collided with the ground, and simply rolled over to and leaned against the non-magnetic rubble of the few buildings in the area.
"Hm, as I thought, you were clever enough to get out of there."
Mala stepped a few feet away then turned back to the man clad in blue and tan.
“I suppose we can continue then." Mala said while clasping the now red handle of his cane. “It should be a relatively hot one, or at least so I hope."
Mala then lifted the cane above his head. A cracking noise was heard as Mala froze in place, and he dropped the cane to a puddle on the sidewalk causing a hiss.
"P-perhhaaps that last event with the stop sign did more d-amage then I at first thought." Mala said with a strange smile and his eyes widened.
He rubbed his back with one hand while bending down to pick up the walking stick.
"Maybe we can continue now."
Mala snapped his fingers and the cane's handle flipped so that it was now sticking out like a strange spear head. The neck then extended, bringing it to a little over five feet in length. The spearhead/handle then erupted into flame.
By the time Mala had stepped over the mess of black mudstuff that had been the stop sign he had previously wielded mixed in with mostly liquified brick, the man in tan was at the chalkboard. He stared at it as if there was something written thereupon only he himself could read.
"I would give an apology and an explanation for my compulsory actions earlier if I thought it would mean anything,” Mala said with a shrug. “But since it won't I'll keep it to myself. I am curious though, is your mysteriously mystifying hand work as fast as a bullet? "
The man turned around as Mala pulled out a small revolver from his coat and fired. As the blue shirted man turned he revealed that he had already drawn the circle from earlier that had caused the two to exchange places. The sound of the gunfire only seemed to occur half as long as it should have, but the moment that the two shifted caused a novel incident that cut off the bang.
Mala was now across the room, facing the chalkboard, gun still held outward. The short haired man would be facing the street through the hole in the wall mentioned earlier. He probably expected to hear the sound of a bullet hitting the other man in the back and a gasp as the wind rushed from his lungs, but instead he heard a slight chuckle and the sound of a ricocheting bullet hitting the wall then the ceiling. He then heard a piercing noise and felt incredible pain as the hot lead projectile punctured his left calf just above the Achilles tendon, tearing through muscle and blood vessels till it was stopped by his tibia. This all happened in a single instant of time.
The man dropped to one knee, grasping his wound, only worsening the pain. As he did he saw a purplish smoke coming out from under his boot as well as small pieces of glass. He didn't need to move his foot to realize that it was the magenta orb of magnetic makings that was loaded into his adversary's cane earlier. It was now shattered.
A low chattering noise began welling up all around them. Every nail, every cable, every pin, was rattling, trying to escape their cramped prisons to get to the proverbial siren's call that came from the shattered orb. The man whose name was a guessing game looked over to Mala and saw his cane radiating a dark red light.
Mala dropped his now unloaded gun to the floor and watched as it began dragging itself over to the other man's foot. Mala threw another grey ball to the floor causing a cloud of smoke to fill the area he had been standing in for that instant.
"I'm sure you'll come up with a way out of this one, you seem clever enough." Mala said while leaning against the outer wall of the building next to the special entrance the two had caused earlier, and next to the other man. "At least I hope you are, because if you aren't, then I may as well be searching this city for the true presence I felt radiating from this place."
A nearby car began slowly sliding towards the two and the next door building, a much more modern three story building, began groaning and creaking.
Mala spoke, "Well, I must go now. Tata."
Mala tipped his hat to the man and as he was about to throw another smoke bomb to the ground the other man grabbed his ankle, and instantaneously the two were at least a hundred feet away from the scene. The car flew into the building, leveling the wall with the hole. Several pings could be heard as the nails of the wooden foundation of the house collided with the vehicle along with many other things. The metal mass was floating directly over the area of the shattered orb, spinning like a globe. The car began being pulled into itself, scrunching up like a wad of paper. The house collapsed on itself for lack of a good foundation, and the next door building's metallic foundations flew out of its outer wall and collided with the metallic mass, causing the more modern building to collapse as well. As the two hulking metal things collided they both fell to the ground, each piece collapsing off then reforming into a globe of pieces again while regaining its defiance of gravity.
The pressure on the cars internal parts caused friction and then an explosion. The blast caused all the pieces to fly out in different directions, only to have each one just come back to form the globe again. The heat from the blast must've been extreme, as the different metallic pieces were melting and fusing together. Or was it something else? It had to have been, all of the metal there was now liquified, and was formed into a perfect sphere, just floating and spinning in place.
The purple glow faded away, and the giant iron, er, steel, er, metal ball collided with the ground, and simply rolled over to and leaned against the non-magnetic rubble of the few buildings in the area.
"Hm, as I thought, you were clever enough to get out of there."
Mala stepped a few feet away then turned back to the man clad in blue and tan.
“I suppose we can continue then." Mala said while clasping the now red handle of his cane. “It should be a relatively hot one, or at least so I hope."
Mala then lifted the cane above his head. A cracking noise was heard as Mala froze in place, and he dropped the cane to a puddle on the sidewalk causing a hiss.
"P-perhhaaps that last event with the stop sign did more d-amage then I at first thought." Mala said with a strange smile and his eyes widened.
He rubbed his back with one hand while bending down to pick up the walking stick.
"Maybe we can continue now."
Mala snapped his fingers and the cane's handle flipped so that it was now sticking out like a strange spear head. The neck then extended, bringing it to a little over five feet in length. The spearhead/handle then erupted into flame.
-I'm Vgfian
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Bad Dragonite
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Bad Dragonite
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Whoops.
OOC: Pardon my gaposis, please. Continuing.
----------------------------------------------------
It is uncertain whether or not the head of the canespeartoolblargh stayed aflame, though- what is known is this.
Mala made a mistake.
No sooner had the weapon set itself alight than the man in tan rose to his feet, another strange, circumscribed figure glowing on the concrete before his feet. He looked at Mala almost totally blankly, though if the odd magician could have set a name to the man's emotion, it would be 'bored'.
"You know," He stated, slightly raising his voice. "It's kind of funny to think about. The way red is always used to signify fire in these sorts of things. It's also pretty thoroughly wrong. Fire is, in most cases," By this point he was shouting to make himself heard. "Orange! Excuse me now!"
And then he drew a finger along one of the pockets on his vest, a circular figure glowed there a moment- and he was gone.
Mala had, of course, noticed just how loud it was getting, and one other fact- the figure on the concrete had held a full eleven glyphs within its smaller circles, far more than the man had yet used. However, it wasn't until the khaki-clad man vanished that he properly registered what was actually happening. The quivering of the ground. The roaring rushing sound, which seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere not by virtue of its phantasm, nor its omnipresence. No, what made the sound all-consuming was it's very tenor, its meaning... and its overwhelming volume. And why should it not?
The sea had risen to swallow the city.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Several minutes later, the man in khaki stepped out of the top of a stairwell onto the roof of a seven-story apartment building. The environment around him was placid, water shimmering calmly. The tops of buildings sparsely dotted the area around him, though downtown was a virtual watery forest he could see in the distance. To the North, Golden Gate Park looked more like some kind of sargasso sea, water greened and occasionally broken by the top of a tree.
He watched the water start to retreat, a murky gray-greenness that seemed not to shift at all, even as it drained away and the water level fell.
"A lot like blue for water." He said quietly, and then stepped over the edge of the building- not to fall, but to walk calmly down its side. A close, thorough inspection of his boots would reveal that there were tiny clouds of earthen dust slowly emerging from them before settling, but not how, nor how they might be connected with his standing perpendicular on the wall, injured leg carefully kept to the upwards side as he almost sashayed down the building.
"I doubt that killed you, but I'm fairly sure it was an inconvenience. Would not be surprised if it turned out not to be."
OOC: Pardon my gaposis, please. Continuing.
----------------------------------------------------
It is uncertain whether or not the head of the canespeartoolblargh stayed aflame, though- what is known is this.
Mala made a mistake.
No sooner had the weapon set itself alight than the man in tan rose to his feet, another strange, circumscribed figure glowing on the concrete before his feet. He looked at Mala almost totally blankly, though if the odd magician could have set a name to the man's emotion, it would be 'bored'.
"You know," He stated, slightly raising his voice. "It's kind of funny to think about. The way red is always used to signify fire in these sorts of things. It's also pretty thoroughly wrong. Fire is, in most cases," By this point he was shouting to make himself heard. "Orange! Excuse me now!"
And then he drew a finger along one of the pockets on his vest, a circular figure glowed there a moment- and he was gone.
Mala had, of course, noticed just how loud it was getting, and one other fact- the figure on the concrete had held a full eleven glyphs within its smaller circles, far more than the man had yet used. However, it wasn't until the khaki-clad man vanished that he properly registered what was actually happening. The quivering of the ground. The roaring rushing sound, which seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere not by virtue of its phantasm, nor its omnipresence. No, what made the sound all-consuming was it's very tenor, its meaning... and its overwhelming volume. And why should it not?
The sea had risen to swallow the city.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Several minutes later, the man in khaki stepped out of the top of a stairwell onto the roof of a seven-story apartment building. The environment around him was placid, water shimmering calmly. The tops of buildings sparsely dotted the area around him, though downtown was a virtual watery forest he could see in the distance. To the North, Golden Gate Park looked more like some kind of sargasso sea, water greened and occasionally broken by the top of a tree.
He watched the water start to retreat, a murky gray-greenness that seemed not to shift at all, even as it drained away and the water level fell.
"A lot like blue for water." He said quietly, and then stepped over the edge of the building- not to fall, but to walk calmly down its side. A close, thorough inspection of his boots would reveal that there were tiny clouds of earthen dust slowly emerging from them before settling, but not how, nor how they might be connected with his standing perpendicular on the wall, injured leg carefully kept to the upwards side as he almost sashayed down the building.
"I doubt that killed you, but I'm fairly sure it was an inconvenience. Would not be surprised if it turned out not to be."
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Bad Dragonite
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I'll work on this tonight. I've had ideas since I read it, I just haven't been getting to it. :/
I've been up for a while now, and tomorrow have to go out of town for some hours.
It should be up at the least by tonight, at the most, in a few days. More likely to be shorter rather than longer... Hopefully.
I've been up for a while now, and tomorrow have to go out of town for some hours.
It should be up at the least by tonight, at the most, in a few days. More likely to be shorter rather than longer... Hopefully.
-I'm Vgfian