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Post by Vilicious on Jul 11, 2014 7:57:37 GMT -8
Only hushed waves answer Ruin's query for several moments... until slowly, slowly, the figure turns. Slowly its foreign glare, its eyes - Forte's, but with morphing black, red, and orange sclera rather than white and pulsing red irises - take in Ruin and not just what he had uttered, but the nature of it. The... lack of subservience.
A tongue peeks from behind stranger lips and licks the disgusted sneer, tasting the air for the fear of all three others present in the flooding city. The being lifts an orange and black hand... and then slams it downward, taking with it all possible breathable air, all resistance to gravity that anybody else had exhibited: It wills all three to kneel, bow, and to stay knelt and bowed.
There is no other display of power; are no words to accompany the deed, and no time to deliver them in. Before any individual is allowed to lift their head, the thing is gone but for the pressure lingering in each of their own heads, pounding at their sanity with hammering blows. For Ruin, for whom another DarkSoul would seem a stranger fate, it is worst: His own consciousness fights for the beating but more than that so too does another, darker thing inside of him...
The flooding begins to lap at the feet of the lowest of them. Whatever programming had gone into the lake above, it was not allowing for the water's source to run dry... the city was going to be drowned.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2014 12:44:50 GMT -8
Indeed, not quite Forte from before, but a powerful being regardless. Ruin's suspicions about its powers confirmed as he dropped to one knee before the one before him. All the air seemed to be removed from the area, and for the moment, Ruin simply knelt before the one who demanded respect... demanded fear. Though the form was similar, Ruin could tell, even through this, the being was different. The one who looked like Forte then soon vanished, and while the pressure on the body was no longer present. Ruin remained kneeling, his eyes shut tightly closed as the pressure continued to wrack his mind... As if compelling the darksoul he thought he had control over to take over for him. But whats more... something else was there. Something greater, more powerful... Threatening to take over. The insanity from the pressure or this new, even deeper darkness. Both were equally frightening in concept. For Ruin to lose his control... Perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing. It was only by losing control that he was able to regain it once again. But despite that which wracked his mind, he still did not rise. Almost crippled by his internal battle as water continued to flood and submerge the area. If he were to be thankful, he would be thankful of his high ground, for however long it might last.
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Post by Shast on Jul 11, 2014 16:07:57 GMT -8
Iria Don't be a co- Iria was cut off, an ethereal force brought her to one knee without resistance. Arm resting on one leg while the other lay fist clenched in the stone below.
There she stay, if only for a small while, forcing herself up once the pressure had eased. but the spectre had passed. No where to be found or sensed.
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Post by Raven8 on Jul 11, 2014 20:13:09 GMT -8
As Ruin and Iria had, TornadoMan drops to one knee, suffocating due to the lack of air; an especially potent effect when used against a wind-elemental.
It takes Tornado far longer to recover than Iria, but slowly he manages to rise on his knees, panting and trying to catch his breath
Its at this moment that the sky above the crack flashes and a beam of green light touches down. Taking form in an instant, Terra takes form in a battle-ready stance. He surveys the area quickly,then notices Iria in the quickly rising waters.
Terra: Iria, where is Forte?
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Post by Shast on Jul 12, 2014 10:59:17 GMT -8
Iria Gone, sir. He destroyed the barrier, absorbed Gospel, and left before anything could be done. Iria sighed in an almost disappointed, yet still relieved, manner. She glanced at the rising water, then up at the lake above. Residual bugs frittered about in the air. Hrm.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2014 20:28:45 GMT -8
Even as Iria and one of the few navis Ruin bothered to hold a grudge against, Terra, were chatting idly as the water continued to fill. Ruin could not focus on them. His head still throbbed... He couldn't handle this situation. He needed to retreat to a place where he felt more in control. This deeper darkness continued to pound away at his psyche, Ruin would lose the battle for his own self in time if he remained here in this land where bug data lived and permeated the navis within it. Contrary to his normal method of transportation, Ruin looked to employ a secondary mod he saved specifically for emergencies. Perhaps it was the energy it took was much greater, or perhaps because he would always return to the same area... but regardless it was his escape route.
Shadowy dark tendrils began to sway and well up around Ruin as he grasped his head, barely able to look up. His hand over the right side of his face covering his eye. He looked up to see Terra and Iria, along with TornadoMan down below him as the water continued to rise. The darkness grew thicker, soon entirely engulfing Ruin in swirling tendrils. They quickly consumed the darkloid before they thinned out once again, leaving nothing behind.
[Ruin location change: Undernet]
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Post by Raven8 on Jul 15, 2014 20:14:25 GMT -8
Terra's stance relaxes as he hears Iria's story. He looks around, shakes his head, and turns back to Iria again.
Terra: Then get back to the shore and call in a clean-up crew. There's nothing else that we can do right now.
...nothing else to do here, bus so much to do elsewhere. Terra beams out of the area in a flash of light just as suddenly as he'd appeared, leaving Iria and TornadoMan alone.
Still somewhat winded, TornadoMan manages to return to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he turns to Iria and motions above-board as the water reaches knee height.
TornadoMan: ...no argument... here.
Mustering his energy, TornadoMan forms a cyclone around his legs and flies up to the entrance, leaving the soon to be sunken city behind.
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Post by Shast on Jul 15, 2014 21:10:37 GMT -8
Iria This doesn't even look fixable. The water still rising, but Iria took a moment to open up the UI yet again, amending her request for repairs to include the lake, but mentioning severe structural damage.
Just as the water reached her waist Iria glanced up and began to beam out of the ruined city. If I didn't hate water I'd just float up.
[Iria -> Edit this when I find out.]
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Post by Shast on Dec 16, 2014 11:25:53 GMT -8
Slypner [From Netopian lake(pgw/e)] No bubbles rise from him as he plunges into the bugged network. Through his own means he's long since disabled the oxygen function in his coding. Streams of glitching data continue trickle upward. Various wreckage from the wreckage above that seeped down litter the expanse. Some flames remain alight despite the supposed physics emulation the current day internet has. This only adds to the mysticism of bugs. The sunlight barely pierces this deep. The entire zone permeates with time-lost mystery. Glitches... Chaotic accidents without purpose. Defilers of structure. he thinks to himself, raising an eyebrow as he passes a flaming file of rubble. It is within this fabled tomb now unleashed that Slypner quests for an artifact. A mundane commodity during the city's living days, but now a relic long forgotten. He continues strolling the streets. Occasionally glancing in buildings.
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Post by Shast on Dec 17, 2014 21:04:54 GMT -8
Slypner Ruins naturally cause fear in a being. A caustic mixture of the unknown and paranoia. Even more so when those ruins are known to house a resident most horrifying. The few who knew of this decrepit city knew of its wretched host. Yet colony is unusually silent. Not that he wished to evoke the attention of such a being but it remains near the forefront of his mind while wandering the streets.
The glitched atmosphere of the city does not phase him like it would more mundane navis. He was glitched to the core, despite lacking the namesake element. His outward apathy however belies his concern over the lack of local hostility. Time crawls, it feels an eternity will pass before he finds what he seeks.
Bugs brush up against him. Altering the fabric of his clothing before it quickly reverts back to near perfection. Tolerance is not immunity. The archaeologist plunges deeper, to the heart of the dead hive. His pace unphased by the crack that will only spider in time.
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Post by Shast on Dec 18, 2014 21:10:34 GMT -8
Slypner A vast expanse of crumbled shacks lay ahead in a vast open space amongst several crossroads. Akin to a bazaar or flea market. In the distance beyond, the nerve center of the whole city: The mansion. Yet he has no need nor the time to delve so far. This frumpy cluster of stalls will have what he requires. Slypner begins the search, leisurely at first but as after mere minutes it becomes clear the task will take longer than he has. Reaching out he materializes a Darksword into his hand and with one fluid motion impales himself through the abdomen. As he recoils the data expelled from the wound swirls and mixes until it compiles into a shape resembling the inflicter. Through a process of expelling unwanted emotional reflex glitches via an inhibiting software of his own design. Without even acknowledging his likeness Slypner resumes his search, as does his doppleganger. It's not long after this that the scratch becomes infected. Worse so than before. He can feel himself slipping but he shows no signs. Time passes, the wound deeper. Yet necessary. His likeness returns with the object required. A program used in olden days that was specifically to amplify glitches. No sigh of relief of cheer. Simply acceptance of his offspring's tribute. Its deed done the clone disperses into the murky depths. Leaving Slypner to make haste for the cities edge. It's not long before he's back at the cities edge. Strange how much smaller the world gets when you run through it. However his haste expedited his wounds. Causing unpredictable consequences within him. His movements occasional inverted, leaving him fumbling like a confused child. Yet despite this hand others he presses on. Up the ridge and into the lake once more. [Slypner -> Netopian Lake]
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