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 Post subject: Re: Invitation to Kill
PostPosted: Sun Dec 05, 2010 8:57 pm 
Can't wait for MWO
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(This final post has been "rigged": it should be not be considered for voting purposes against Drakol/Dahlia for tactics/battle. Yoz and Raine approved this control in order to allow me to finish the battle the way I wanted. If you think it's a sweet RP and want to vote for it b/c of that, I can't stop you. However, I have noted what is important. )
Sharp shards a blue light surrounded Drakol in the distance. Not his lances - those were obvious as well - but something more akin to an explosion had taken place. It was not harmful to Drakol at all: the drow didn't even flinch when the gem he held exploded. Had he even been aware? Whatever it was, that release of power heralded something of far greater import: Death.

Thunder roared across the plains, rumbling through Jaedin's rib cage and drowning out all other sounds. And then it was gone. Silence consumed his senses. The lack of sound quickly became eerie. The arc of energy speeding towards Dahlia seemed to slow. It ceased to lay waste to all in its path. Jaedin wasn't sure if he'd become momentarily deaf. He snapped his fingers out of curiosity and heard the crisp smack cut through the silence like a knife. All the more eerie. Above, he saw energy gathering in the clouds at a single point, growing brighter as waving lines of soft lightning wound their way to it. Grim, tight-lipped determination hung as a mask over Jaedin's visage: he would not kneel before this oncoming storm.

With a sudden flash, a thick bolt of light tore from sky to ground, cracking so loud Jaedin though his hands might shatter. But they didn't. The bolt had struck directly between Dahlia and his arc slash. But where a crater and seared earth should have been, there stood something else entirely.

A man.

Or at least, that would have been the best description. It stood with the normal humanoid appendages - arms, legs, a head and neck, and the like - a little taller than Jaedin. But its composition differed greatly. Instead of clothes on flesh, the form seemed made of lightning: as if you could take the raw power of nature and mold it into the form of a man. Deep blue eyes stood in contrast to the lighter blue hue of his face and body. A nose rose from the otherwise featureless face: there was no mouth. Hair was indiscernible, as it would be the same color as the head it lay flat upon. Blue lines ran the length of its body - the same color as its eyes - and outlined what could have been clothes, had they been a different color. Its outline was fully contained: there were no random arcs of energy striking off of it; no fuzzy glow. His built was sturdy and slim: there was no bulk to his arms or chest: he looked graceful.

Raising his right hand to Jaedin, the visitor willed the energy speeding towards it to stop. It came to a halt inches from his open palm. The raw energy twisted and slowly condensed until it was the size of a volleyball. With his left, he idly gestured towards the magical missiles Drakol had launched, as if the effort of doing so were hardly worth mentioning. They stopped dead in their tracks just as they would have passed said hand, and shattered a moment afterward.

Death stared across the space between him and Jaedin, over the arcane energy he had tamed too easily. Silence had filled the void following his arrival. No one moved: the tickity-tick of Trinix' escape was mute. He cocked his head to the right while he gently stroked the ball of energy, as if it weren't born of fear and destruction, but just a child's play-thing. After a moment, when no one spoke or moved, it straightened its head.


A voice slid across the battlefield, weaving its way with a silken touch. But the man whom he addressed wasn't listening. He was determined not to listen. The moment Death spoke its first syllable, Jaedin acted.

Jaedin hurled his sword - Blade of the Immortal - at Death. It flew true like a bolt from a bow, to pass through the ball of energy and strike Death in the chest. But the flying steel froze in place the moment its tip touched the balled-up arc slash. It hung motionless, parallel to the ground. Wide eyed with shock, Jaedin could only watch in terror as Death gently pushed the energy back at him; into the sword. The light from the ball drained back into the blade like water flowing through a funnel into a reservoir. The blade glowed brightly again as it received the power it had only recently released. But there was more to this: though the energy from the arc-slash disappeared, the weapon's brilliance continued to grow. A low hum resonated from the weapon, becoming increasingly louder as it glowed with greater intensity. The buzz filled Jaedin's ears. It grew to such levels that the ground seemed to quake from the power emanating from it.

Death reached around and grabbed the hilt of Jaedin's blade. A sad smirk covered his face, though he had no mouth. Jaedin could see it in his eyes. He had seen much of them: he knew Death well. With slow, fluid grace, Death put the tip of the sword into the ground, pressing firmly on the hilt to slide the blade into the dirt at his feet. Jaedin reached out his hand in instinctive fear and opened his mouth to cry out, but his time was up.

An expanding sphere of light exploded from where the sword met the ground. The sound of the destruction hit Jaedin before the force did, as if to give him a preview of what fate had for him. Yet he chose not to raise his hands to shield himself. As the light grew closer, Jaedin lowered his arms; relaxed his hands to let them hang limp by his sides. He had known this was coming. Something had felt...wrong. Drakol had been the tip of a humongous iceberg, and Jaedin only now realized it existed.


Then in a flash, it was over. Death, Jaedin, the sword: they simply weren't there. Drakol glanced about in obvious worry, unable to even begin to understand what had happened. Who in the gods' names had that been? Or, perhaps, what had that been. Where had Jaedin gone to?

What had it all meant?


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