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Apr 04, 12 at 12:00pm ^Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
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Imagine yourself taking your seat, as does everyone else. There are murmurs and whispers, but they slowly subside as two spotlights shine down on the center of the stage as the curtains slowly open. And there, on the stage, stands me. You sit quietly as I step forward with my hands folded neatly behind my back.
I clear my throat and begin to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Hello and welcome. It’s nice to see you all here this evening.”
I smile, seeing that I have now caught yours and the rest of the audience’s attention.
“My name is Roy Linden Kybur, and this is my theater. This is where our story today resides, where the reality you all know shall be subject to the bizarre and mystic tales I have in store.”
I begin pacing left and right as I go on further.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I am a man who enjoys drawing and appreciates all artwork. But most especially, I am drawn to the strange and surreal, and also the monochromatic. The beautiful, fantastic things you only see in the deepest depths of your dreams. Or perhaps you don’t… but I certainly do.”
I take a moment to gauge your reactions before I continue to speak.
“I have long dreamt of a world that exemplifies all my creative interests. It is a world with no color, of no modern age, and reality is no different from the wildest of anyone’s dreams. But I however dream of vast deserts with ruins and relics half buried beneath them, flying wooden tables with the cloths flowing in the wind, roses sprouting from the crowns of our heads, and so much more that I alone cannot imagine.”
My eyes focus on you, alone in the audience. And you know I am looking straight at you.
“Why are we here? To read and to write, and possibly see as well… or so I myself believe. The tall tales that drips from the ink of our pens onto the vast sea of papers laid before us are never truly works of one mere individual. No, our stories are ones we write together, you and me. That’s why you’re here, sitting in that chair... to be part of this story.”
You lean forward from your seat, and I smile once again.
“Ladies and gentlemen… please stay silent… keep your eyes on the screen… and allow yourself to become part of this story. I give you… The Rodavlas.”
I make my way off the stage as the lights dim. The blank screen that stood behind me lights up as the projector behind you casts its almighty beam forward. The film grain gives way to the simple countdown you have been waiting to see…
Before your eyes, emblazoned on the old theater screen, you see an open view of the stars in space, twinkling with no other business to attend to in the universe. Out of the bottom left corner of the picture, you spot something approaching. At first, you can’t make out what it is. But as it creeps closer, you can see how simple it is; a slim, pyramid-like object, plodding through space with its tip pushing past the stars. As its base passes by, you can clearly see how the solid surface gives way to ethereal crevices and long, vein-like protrusions that seem to flow behind the structure like the tails of man’s coat.
The strange object passes by the screen for all to see, as the view slowly pans to the right to reveal the object’s destination, a lone planet not far off in the distance…
You hear the voice of a young Spaniard sound. The screen shifts to a young man with slick black hair and a finely trimmed moustache wearing a suit.
“They named it after me. Ilad Rodavlas. I was a prophet. When the first miniscule fragment of the Rodavlas fell from the sky and onto my lap, as I was sitting beside the walls of my dilapidated home under an open hole in the roof and cieling. Even though it was no larger than a marble, it changed all that stood around me, bending reality itself. Before my eyes, color seemed to vanish and give way to shades of black, white, and gray. The cracked walls and tiled floors shifted into something out of an old fairytale. They became stone engraved with bizarre happenings, pictures that seemed to move across the stone, and the floors became checkered, spanning across the atrium that seemed to expand around me. The ceiling slowly evaporated and turned to glass, as sand began to seep in, and pour from its cracks, into this new home of mine. The grains spilled in the corners of all the rooms, but they did not spread far. And I too, changed. My head split open, but I felt no pain. The tiniest crack, like that of an old vase, gave way to little gray bud that instantly bloomed into a delicate rose.”
The screen shifted to Ilad standing before a crowd of onlookers in front of his surreal palace, as he held the white fragment of the Rodavlas in his hands.
“I told them what the little white stone that fell from the sky had brought upon me. And I told them it was only the first of many, until the object it came from arrived and changed the entire world. They saw how the ground that I stood on lost its color, the rose that sprout from my head, and the palace behind me that seemed to defy reality. They believed me, and they panicked, even when I told them not to.”
The screen showed the Rodavlas hanging above a city, still encroaching its destination.
“Over time, more fragments began to chip off the giant white pyramid that loomed over us. They changed the world around where they landed, and the people as well. Some grew flowers atop their heads like me. Others’ heads changed to those of animals and house pets. Some even melted into little pools of flesh that rose up and began to float across the earth. And some even turned into antique televisions with glass wings. But two things were always persistent. There was never any color, and there was always sand. Scientists attempted to study them, but they could never verify much other than what we already knew. The Rodavlas altered the very fabric of reality around it.”
The screen showed the Rodavlas slowly touching down upon the streets of the city. The moment it made contact with the surface of the earth, there was a blinding white light that erased everything on the screen.
“When it finally did touch the earth… nothing changed.”
The screen gave way to an open desert, with gray seas of sand and black mountains far off in the distance.
“At least, that’s what we all came to believe at that very moment. The Rodavlas altered reality and, seemingly instantaneously, we all adjusted to it. In seconds, the world changed in every way possible, and we all seemed to think nothing happened at all.”
The screen slowly shifted to a view of a city, with all sorts of strange and surreal things going on, and the people walking its streets just as so.
“Even its name, the Rodavlas… everyone acted as though that’s what it had been called all this time. They see no relation between its name and mine, even though it is right before their eyes. To this day, it stands miles high above every other building in this city. Surrounding us are open deserts, where the sands shift and sway like water. Giants made of eroding stones stride along them, and we tend to leave them be. Dangers do exist, of course… but not the rational kind.”
The screen went back to the image of Ilad’s home, only now there were several people congregating inside. It shifted to the doors lining the walls and entered one of them to reveal a lavish hotel room, with sand falling from a crack in the ceiling in the corner of the room and furnishings like they’d been stolen from an ancient Arabian palace.
“Society works much the same as it used to. People don’t. We never age, and we never change in appearance. Neither does what we perceive as modern reality. To us, the world has always been like this. We’ve never seen any color despite grayscale. Our method of transportation has always been levitating furniture. All of us have always embraced our bizarre appearances. Be we mere men and women with flowers atop our heads or floating televisions or puddles of flesh hanging on some lonely strings… it has always been normal to us.”
The screen shifts back to Ilad sitting at a table on a balcony, admiring the view of the desert before him.
“As for myself… my home has become a place of congregation. I call it the Sandfall Hotel, now… just as I always have. There are always rooms available, free of charge, and the occupants see me as a reputable figure, a socialite… indeed, I do know my fair share of people. Every now and then, I take trips through the desert purely out of both curiosity and monotony. Sometimes, there are wondrous things to be found. And other times, there are dangers I barely escape from. But it’s a nice life, as it always has been. And I’m content with it.”
Ilad then turns his head towards you, facing you directly. He nods, and then asks you a simple question.
“What about you?”
Edit: Apr 04, 12 5:18pm
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Apr 04, 12 at 12:02pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
And now, for the technical procedures...
If you are reading this, and the above introduction has left you confused and questioning the status of reality, then that means I have successfully caught your attention. Now we’re all just fine and dandy.
The Rodavlas, the first in line of my Kybur Presents: series of stories, is a story I like to describe as the offspring of my artistic interest and my questionable, ever-degrading sanity. It is a role-play set in a strange and surreal world that just so happens to be an altered version of our own. The Rodavlas itself, an object from the farthest reaches of space that alters the fabric of reality around it, has touched and embedded itself within the earth’s surface an unprecedented amount of time ago. And now the entire planet has been changed into something you’d probably see if you mashed all of Salvador Dali’s work into one big picture.
I’ve set in stone a couple things, but the rest depends on you. The first and foremost fact is that all color has been erased and replaced with pleasant, antique monochrome. No, no one was struck colorblind. The Rodavlas affected color itself, but everyone seems not to mind one bit. In fact, the grayscale setting gives off a nice, dreamy feel if you think about it a lot… or not at all.
The next fact is that there are lots, and I mean lots of open desert around the world. Places where trees grew or dirt sprawled have been replaced with miles and miles of shifting sands. There still exist canyons and mountains located far away from any civilization, and there are also bottomless cracks in the earth here and there. These are where the dangers of the world exist. As for cities and settlements here and there, sand seeps in as well; buildings, tunnels, everywhere. It doesn’t bother anyone though, so no one minds.
The third fact is that there is very little in the way of science or technology. Science became an unneeded and mundane concept after the Rodavlas, so there are no more scientists to work things out. Reality is simply too bizarre, yet everyone understands it perfectly. As for technology, picture it as it was in the early nineteen hundreds and you’ve got a decent view of it. Antique televisions, radios, projection theaters with film grain, and all the other old things the modern age have outgrown. There are no iPods or flat screens or any other sophisticated forms of technology. Everything is surrealistic, and that’s that.
So, the above is generally the got-to-know stuff. There are plenty of other ifs, ands, and buts that I will go into later, such as how automobiles have vanished and flying tables are the method of transportation, or how giants made of eroding stones walk the deserts. But all of that will be covered in due time. How this world operates depends solely on who is playing with it, and playing with reality is what we’re all here to do.
As for now, you may be wondering how you get to become a part of this bizarre world, and how you should fit into the elaborate puzzle it is. To put it simply, your character may be whatever comes from the deepest trenches of your imagination. You could be like Ilad, and have nothing but a little flower sprouting from a crack in your forehead. Or you could have the head of an animal, with no other function than for cosmetic purposes (Mind you, I mean the actual head of an animal. Not just the ears or the tail. We’ll have no Jappy-neko-whatever business here.). You could be a floating television with glass wings, or a puddle of flesh hanging on some strings. You could be a cloud of blocks with all your features imprinted on them, or you could be a floating statue. The choice is up to you, but you must be something bizarre or have some surreal features to be a resident of this world.
Who you are, where you live, and what you do is your choice. The stories that will unfold will be completely up to you. You can explore the city around the Rodavlas and meet the people who have been changed by it, travel across the open desert to uncover strange artifacts to collect from half-buried ruins, dare to venture into the black canyons and mountains in the distance where dangers of your own design lurk… or you could come up with your own location, add it to the world. Within parameters, all is allowed. It’s up to you what “all” just so happens to be.
Now, rules. Same as always, no spamming, flaming, double posting or other childish nonsense. Interaction with other characters is defined by freedom, though notifications may be required. If you wish to add something major to the world, you will have to run it by me first. But as I stated before, all’s allowed in the world of The Rodavlas.
To join, simply notify me through a PM with a brief description of who you are in this world. Things here are ridiculous and disorganized, so a character sheet is not something you’ll need. I’ll let you jump right in and define yourself as you go along. And whatever stories we all create, be it the ones we seclude ourselves with or that we share with all those around us, are waiting to be written. Your name, your character’s name, and their description shall be placed in the below post to signify that you are a part of this world, and you may interact with it at your whimsy.
Edit: Apr 04, 12 5:17pm
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Apr 04, 12 at 12:03pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Though Ilad shares his last name with the monolithic Rodavlas that sits embedded in the earth at the center of the city, no one notices the similarity of the two. Neither does Ilad, actually. The man himself simply calls the shots, makes announcements from time to time, and arranges special events and gatherings, along with other work-related things. Besides that, he’s just as much a patron as anyone else. He sits on the balcony of his lovely penthouse and sips fine wine and smokes some cigars with friends of his. Sometimes he commutes through the city, visiting the markets and bazaars and buying random objects that strike him fancy; all quite normal for a man like him.
Ilad does some adventuring from time to time. He takes his pistol, his sword, and his pack with him into the open deserts to uncover whatever treasures he might find, be they talking lamps or floating streams of wine to bottle up and take home. But these treks never go without their dangers. The further out he ventures, the more he must deal with dangers such as hostile floating rocks, giant crabs, snakes with wings and feathers, and other exotic enemies. It’s true that the oddest of happenings reside within the farthest reaches of the deserts; the canyons, caves, and mountains made up of the darkest rocks.
But it’s a nice life. And Ilad does enjoy it so.
Though he doesn't talk much, he is very polite, especially to women, children, or elders. Never one to start fights, but in this dream world, who usually does? That isn't to be mistaken for him being incapable of hurting people, or the random violent critters out in the desert.
Due to his large size, he often gets crowded in settlements, and in turn prefers taking to the desert by himself, where there is plenty of space to roam. Unneeding much nourishment, he could be gone weeks with a bottle of water and a biscuit, and still come back with leftovers.
Since his body is uneeding in much of anything, the entire torso area is capable of opening into a campartment space for storage, which is usually for the goodies he finds out in the desert.
Due to his long legs, and stringy body, he is capable of running rather fast, jumping pretty high, and overall making him quite agile. His size allows him to fight hand to hand well with certain creatures he runs into. When his brute strength doesn't work too well, he realeases a long slender blade from his wrist on his right arm.
He wears a black overcoat, that melds with his skin on his arms, and a pair of torn shorts. He has a long face, short hair, a missing eye on his left, and a pocket watch for his right eye. He still has perfect vision however. Wherever he goes, he leaves an image of himself behind him, to about a foot in length, giving him a look like he's lagging all the time.
Edit: Feb 01, 13 3:10pm
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Apr 07, 12 at 3:48pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Atop a balcony on the highest floor of the Sandfall Hotel, Ilad sat in his intricate metal chair, holding a glass of dark wine in his hand. On the table where his elbow rested was an empty plate that once held a delicious steak, and a bottle of more dark wine that was down to barely enough to quench one’s thirst for nary a moment. His eyes seemed calm as he took a sip from his glass and stared onward.
Out there, open like a picture book, stood buildings and towers and enormous palm trees. Beyond them lay the open deserts the surrounded them, full of treasures and dangers, all of which quite exotic in nature. This city without a name, at least none that had never been thought of, was like a crowd of children catering to their master. And from that balcony, Ilad could see the master of this city, nay… this world.
He gazed upon it with a somber feel in his eyes. A monolithic white pyramid, overturned, slightly tilted, and embedded in the very center of the city, so perfectly placed that if it had been fired like a bullet from a giant space god’s pistol, then Ilad would have had to comment what a splendid shot it was. The base of the pyramid was not perfectly smooth as other pyramids were. It gave way to roots, still white as marble like the rest of it. They were shriveled, and some of the curled inward while other hung limp.
It was by far the most noticeable sight from the view of the balcony. And it never ceased to amaze Ilad with its very existence, how it was the very embodiment of all reality on this planet, a fact that no one denied and everyone praised.
Ilad raised his glass to the Rodavlas and said under his breath, “Brilliant.”
Moments later, when a melting clock flew by the balcony, Ilad realized it was about that time to get going for his trip. He finished his wine and set the glass on the table. He then clapped his hands twice in rapid succession, and the wine and glass both began levitating. Ilad turned and stepped back into his penthouse, the glass and bottle following him and the glass doors shutting closed.
Ilad lived in a truly lavish place made of the finest livings and furnishings, with checkered floors, paintings that flowed across the walls, dark drapes hanging from the ceiling and sand piled around the corners of the room.
Ah, sand. What would anyone do without it?
The glass and bottle both turned and floated towards the kitchen isle. The glass placed itself in the sink while the bottle inserted itself into the wine rack. Ilad proceeded towards his bed and crouched down, pulling a small wooden chest out from underneath it. His fingers reached and poked into the petals of the rose growing atop his forehead, pulling out a small key. He placed the key in the lock and turned it left, then right, then spun it left until it clicked open.
Ilad placed the key back within his rose and opened the chest. Inside was pure darkness. He reached his arm inside until it was up to his shoulder, and then pulled out what appeared to be a wrapped up gray cloak, bound by a dark rope. There was clearly something, if not then multiple things wrapped up inside. Ilad tucked the wrapped up cloak underneath his arm and closed the chest, which locked itself up and tucked itself under the bed.
Ilad proceeded towards the door. It opened on its own as Ilad approached, and closed shut when he left. He was the only man it would open to, other than guests he allowed inside. So, it was a nice way to keep trespassers out.
Ilad proceeded down the steps from his door and slowed as he came to the stone railing ahead. He sighed and placed his hands upon it, leaning forward.
He always had to stop and admire the view of the Sandfall Hotel before him.
It was beautiful. From an outside perspective, it only reached four stories high. But inside, it seemed near limitless. Tiled floors that spanned throughout the building, catwalks and stairways that almost seemed to form a web throughout the atrium, sand falling in pillars from the glass ceiling up above… few could resist living here because of its alluring, antique presence. A lot of patrons liked to call this place something out of a dream they wish they could all have.
Ilad had that dream once. But that was in another time. Another life.
Ilad smiled and walked downward, crossing catwalks and descending stairways alike. Patrons passed by him and greeted him. “Hello, Ilad.” Some said. “Good day, Mister Rodavlas.” Others said.
Yes, Ilad was that kind of socialite; a good man, a respectable gentleman, a swell guy. It came with the job, never charging anyone for rooms that were always open. He never asked for any money from anyone.
After all, what more would he ever need?
That wasn’t to say no one ever left, or no one was ever thrown out. Of course, things weren’t totally perfect. There were kinks in the system here and there, but Ilad and his staff always took care of it. Hotel security was comprised of eyes that hung on thin strings here and there to watch patrons, and plenty of men tending to all the areas of the building; the atrium, the dining chambers, the grand pool… all were well guarded by the Sandfall Hotel’s staff.
Ilad reached the bottom floor and proceeded towards the glass doors of the entrance. And almost immediately, he could see someone waiting for him by the doors, with his hands behind his back, accompanied by two other men in suits. They were his “assistants”, as he preferred calling them. They were just hired thugs, but they wouldn’t dare cause trouble here. At least… not the kind that involved physical violence or gunplay.
Hadrian Filister… also known as the “Fat Cat”, duly because he had a cat’s head… and he was slightly on the heavy side of the scale. He stood just as tall as Ilad, dressed in an equally fine suit but with the gut of his shirt protruding a little. His head was not a human’s head. His hands were, as were the rest of his body, but not his head. It was that of a house cat’s head. Finely groomed, gray fur with simple, black patterns around the forehead, dark lips and ears that perked diagonally… a fat cat indeed.
Filister was a big contender in the city markets… no pun intended. Over time, he’s amassed quite an influx of money from gradually buying out whatever stores he could, from lone stalls to entire market strips. As he was, he’d probably own half the whole market in general if he kept at it. He was a conniving man, unafraid of accepting bribes or goading his competitors into backing down with threats and the like. Still… to the more formal public, he was a gentleman just like Ilad. Though they weren’t on the absolute best of terms.
“Mister Rodavlas.” Filister announced whilst smiling with that cynical grin of his, holding out his hand for a shake. Ilad complied, but he didn’t return the smile. “Afternoon, Filister.” Ilad said, “What’s your business here now?”
“Oh, Ilad…” Filister replied, chuckling. “We’ve reached that point where my business in your hotel is all that concerns you, hmm?”
“Last time you were here, someone checked out immediately and left the city. Never heard from him again.”
“That was a misunderstanding, I was not threatening him.”
“Of course you weren’t. How could I be so wrong about you, of all people?” Ilad replied with a slight smirk.
Filister smiled and cleared his throat. “At any rate… I’m meeting up with someone who wants to enter into a little… partnership. Much like the one you’ve been turning down all this time.”
“The answer will always be no.”
“I understand… but just know we won’t be here long. Some talking, perhaps a light lunch, and we’ll be off.”
“Fine.” Ilad said, rolling his eyes. Filister motioned towards the wrapped cloak he was carrying and said, “Heading out?” Ilad nodded and said, “Hoping to find some more wine. I’m running low.” Filister smiled and said, “Well then good luck. We should share a bottle some time, you and me. It’d be nice to just sit down and talk, wouldn’t it?”
“I may be a greedy market buyer, Ilad. But I’m not without my manners or my desire for simple pleasantries.”
Ilad paused for a moment and said, “We’ll see.”
And with that, Filister nodded and walked further into the atrium with his men. Ilad stepped out the door and into the city streets. He proceeded through the courtyard and reached a circular table with an intricately embroidered flowing white cloth parked near the sidewalk. It was Ilad’s table, and he cherished it greatly. He took a seat at one of the four chairs, put the wrapped cloak aside, placed both his hands on the table, cleared his throat, and said, “Giles’ Edge.”
And the table, and its seats, instantly rose up and began flying westward, headed straight for the city outskirts, and in turn, for the desert.
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Apr 07, 12 at 5:57pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Screeching filled the air in a chorus of mischord, echoing off the surroundings, turning it into a haunting shout. Gordon, hanging from the side of a cliff, watched down below to see the circling beasts. Almost human in shape, they bounced around the base of what looked like a melting building for giants that protruded from both sand and rock. Compared to Gordon, this building was large, even big enough for him to stand in without issue. Which wasn't necessarily rare for the endless possibilities that were out here, but made hunting artifacts a helluva lot easier. No needing to crumple down into a ball and crawl around like a cockroach.
Gordon took another glance down at the clashing monsters, and could only guess that these beasts below were in the middle of mating, as pairs of larger dominant critters, struck at each other with diamond hard hands, and giant, underbitten jaws.
Rockhounds, he liked to call em. Due to their shape and asthetics of course. Down on all fours, attached with bowlegged limbs with 3 clawed feet and hands. The bodies themselves, covered in a rock hard like substance. Between the cracks in the stone glowed a dark grey color, like a cup of chilled lava, or a ladies satin undergarments.
The face, smashed inward toward the shoulderblades, almost made it seem that it was just an empty neckhole that bit and growled. The jaws, jutting out like ones kitchen shelf, were lined with an assortment of flat, grinding teeth. Though, if you were to examine them closely, you could see a vast array of sharp tiny barbs atop them like a crown, which allowed for tearing. And the eyes... the penetrating dull grey gaze of 8 eyes on one face. They were no doubt a threat to any living creature their size.
But even with that, the danger level to Gordon was a low one. They were small in comparison, not even reaching his knees. Whilst his hands were able to grip mostly around them. Give em a toss or a kick, and they usually stay where they land, growling and moaning at you. Smaller people probably had issues with them though.
But Gordon wasn't in the mood for a fight, even if it were an easy one. He already battled his way through hoards of centepede minotaurs on his way here. Besides, the building was within jumping distance. Why not save some energy and just fly?
Gordon readied himself on the rocks around him, making sure it was steady, then pushed off, like an eagle in flight. The self replicating images behind him, giving him an angelic look. Albeit a robotic, evil angel, but an angel none-the-less.
Gliding silently through the air, the building came within grabbing distance. He reached for a loose piece of metal. Grabbing it with his hand. He gripped tight, then, squish. The metal exploded from the space between his fingers in a messy surprise, catching him in the eyes, blinding his path.
Without a stopping block, and the loss of sight, Gordon went flailing head first into the building. There wasn't a clang though, as he collided at top speeds. No, only a loud splat.
If one were to look from affar, it would look like somebody just flicked a black spider into a melting bar of candy.
He sat motionless for awhile, feeling embarresement wash over him like a ridiculing flame. He was normally ever so graceful with his movements, that anything like this was beyond a stab at his pride.
What was worse was the fact that the structural integrity of the wall below him too began to degrade, causing a slow sliding descent. Not long and he would have to go toe to toe with those rockhounds.
"Mmmmm..." Gordon groaned through the melting slop. Continuing down further till his body slipped through an evaporating window. His feet began to sink in at first, then everything gave way, throwing him down fast, making him groan in protest at the collision. To his surprise, the floor in which he struck had been actually solid. Unfortunately, it was solid.
Despite the pain, he took no time in standing up, trying to wipe off the silvery muck from his clothes, like it would too wipe off his shame. His body froze suddenly, when some of the melted building eeked into his mouth. He inhaled, then licked his lips again.
"Is that... cookies 'n cream?" He muttered quietly, dipping his fingers into the ceiling to get another taste.
"Hmmm, thats peculiar."
Gordon grabbed the left side of his chest, keeping his eyes on the dripping ceiling, and ripped it open, revealing an open compartment filled with vials, a bottle of water, some canned food, and other various survival tools. He shuffled through his chest a bit till he found a jar, again he dove in for the lid. No doubt he could fetch a price for flavored metal from someone.
Gordon then turned his attention towards the doorway, and walked fast, making sure to get somewhere where a collapsing ceiling wasn't an issue. He plunged the jar into the floor above as he walked, making sure to capture the gruel. He brought it down, capped it, then placed the jar gingerly back into his chest. He had stopped at the doors frame at the same moment he closed his torso door.
"Ugh..." He moaned, taking notice to the 3 way route he could go. One hall curved and twisted to the left, one hall got skinnier and taller as it went along to the right, and there was a slide that seemed to be pushing melted building upwards to the higher reaches of the building in front of him. Where would he go now?
Edit: Apr 07, 12 6:45pm
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Apr 07, 12 at 8:26pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Ilad’s table began to slow down as it reached its destination. He sat and stared at the literal edge of the city and the stone steps that descended from the streets to the outskirts. The table slowly landed and places itself near the top of the steps. Ilad took his wrapped cloak and departed from his seat, heading for the steps.
Descending, Ilad could see the small complex of short buildings at the bottom of the steps, and beyond the gates… the desert, land of mystery, land of treasure… land of danger. But all within manageable grounds, if one is well prepared.
And Ilad always came prepared.
That little group of buildings Ilad stood in was one of the many outposts that stood between the city and the desert. This particular outpost was the one Ilad always frequented. It was known as Giles’ Edge, because it belonged to a man simply named Giles. He and Ilad were on good terms as he brought in goods from the desert to trade and give to him.
Fair and fair.
Ilad stepped into the biggest building and was greeted with dim lighting, creaky wooden flooring, and several holes in the ceiling that allowed the light and sand to seep in.
“Ilad? Is that you?” A raspy voice called out. Ilad turned towards a huge heap of torn rags, blankets, and fabrics sitting behind a desk in the room. Ilad headed towards said heap of rags and said, “Evening, Giles. You doing well?”
Suddenly, an enormous eye peeked out from between the rags and focused on Ilad. “Oh, I’m doing well…” Giles said with his well-concealed mouth. Ilad continued; “Going to be heading out again.”
“Running low on wine again?”
Ilad nodded as he began unwrapping the cloak in his hands. Giles sighed and said, “You always wander to the caves to get your wine. You never thought of just going to the market and buying it instead?”
“Market brand is cheap and tasteless. The best stuff’s out there, waiting to be bottled up and brought home.” Ilad replied, placing the rope on the desk and allowing the gray cloak to unfold and flow. Giles said, “Then I suppose you’ll be wanting some bottles?”
Ilad didn’t answer. He took the cloak and threw it around himself, wrapping himself up in the fabric. Once he was concealed, he rustled a bit, and then he took the cloak off. And his attire had changed. No longer was he dressed in a fine suit with a tie and black formal shoes. Now he adorned a proper desert explorer’s outfit; leather padding, black belts, pockets, pauldrons, and a cape and scarf combo to complete the ensemble.
At Ilad’s waist were two weapons; a pistol, more of an engraved revolver with a rose printed on the grip, and a scimitar with a hilt and guard made of vines and thorns, and a budding rose at its pommel.
They were Ilad’s own personal, customized tools of combat.
Ilad turned to Giles once more and said, “Yeah. Two, please.”
A long, vein-riddled arm slithered out of Giles’ body and reached into the shelves behind him, pulling out two large, empty wine bottles. What was wonderful about these specific kinds of bottles was that they were bigger on the inside than on the outside, so you could fit a lot of liquid in them.
“Here.” Giles said, handing the bottles over to Ilad. Ilad set the bottles on the desk and began wrapping up his gray cloak, which now held his suit rather than his exploring gear. He took the cloak and tossed it over the two bottles. They both seemed to vanish as Ilad took the cloak back. Now it was holding his suit and the wine bottles. Oh, how wonderful that cloak was…
“Bring something nice back for the bottles.” Giles said, “And take care… some travelers said they saw a Great Defiler walking near the outer sands.”
“Great Defiler?” Ilad said in question.
“I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t want you to be prepared to run. Nasty things, Great Defilers are.”
“They are indeed…” Ilad replied.
Great Defilers were strange creatures that were rarely spotted in the desert, mostly the outer sands. They were giant masses of oversized, interlocking hands and arms that literally held themselves together. To be caught by one was running the risk of being smothered and fondled to death. Within the palms of its giant hands were more and more hands of normal size that groped and squeezed the victim until they were dead. That’s how it got its name… because of how it touches you until you’re no more. Some even say the hands within their hands are those of their victims… and whenever it kills a new victim, it adds their hands to the mass.
Disgusting things that no one ever wanted to encounter. Sometimes travelers found the shriveled remains of dead ones half buried, their fingers shriveled and their flesh giving way to the skeletal structure hidden inside. The arms of their victims fall out, sometimes. A shame… but seeing the creatures lie dead was a marginally pleasant site.
They weren’t for eating, though. Their meat was odorous, rancid, and just plain nasty to look at.
“I’m sure you can handle yourself if you meet one, though.” Giles said as Ilad made sure he had all his belongings on him. He nodded and said, “Let’s just hope I don’t.” He turned towards the door and began walking, Giles calmly saying, “Goodbye, Ilad.”
As Ilad walked towards the gates, he took a black umbrella out of a large vase sitting by them. These umbrellas were used by travelers to find their way back to Giles’ Edge when they were lost or had enough exploring for one day. Opened, a gust of wind would instantly point the umbrella’s tip in the exact direction of the place. Quite useful, it was.
The gates closed behind Ilad as he proceeded into the desert. As his boots touched the sand, he felt somewhat relived to be back out there. A too rough or too opulent life was no good for anyone. A nice dosage of each a day was ideal.
Ilad began walking out into the vast, dreary desert that lay stretched before him. His destination lay far beyond the sands, though.
|quote quick quote|
Apr 08, 12 at 4:05pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Each room, it changed, and mutated uncontrollably. Some were tiny, some were huge, some were subject to the sludging affect that took hold of most the buildings top half. Some were filled with flashing grey lights, and antigravity. Then there were a few that tried to suck you in, or light you on fire. He managed to survive, and push through each time, but needless to say, the topsy turvy constant changing building left Gordon completely lost.
He spent an hour or two taking the left corridor, only to end up walking into the right skinny corridor. His slender body made it easy to travel through, but even to a point it got very narrow, and pinched at his body. It only lasted for a short while before he had broken through to the other part of the building, and again he jumped back into the cruel maze.
Teleporting rooms, traps, monsters, tall tube rooms, walls of glass, mirrors, ice rooms, rune rooms, witchcraft rooms, all of it, never constant, always painful, and unyeilding in interesting treasure. Again hours passed, and Gordon had ended up staggering back into the 3 way corridor.
His breath came in sharp and quick, while his missing eyesocket was bleeding a thick black gruel into his mouth. Cuts and burns covered his legs, and the bottom of his shorts were rigid with lengthy icicles.
"What hell... have I stumbled on?" He muttered quietly, leaning into the wall next to him. He sat still for a moment, trying to reboot his body from the ubiquitous torture that had previously been bestowed upon it.
Where were the windows? The doors out? Even an airduct or Vole hole would work. Ugh... This prison of everchanging elements.
"Hmm?" Gordon piped up, when he noticed his body leaning further into the wall than before. He quickly stepped back, avoiding getting stuck in the godforsaken building once more. But it wasn't just the wall that had shown signs of the melting status, but the floor too began to sink his feet in.
The immediate liquidification of both wall and floor had taken its toll on Gordons balance, sending him slipping and sprawling forth in an almost comedic fashion. But the bigger they are, the harder they fall, right? Gordon tumbled down onto his back, slipping himself into the reverse waterslide of melted building head first.
Too fast! The slide moved way too fast! How could Gordon get his head if it were shooting lightspead up a twisting, bending, yet very smooth, ride? To the left, to the right, to the right, down, up and right again. All the while being thrashed back and forth. No sane being could think straight with so much happening at once!
Despite the fact, Gordon had managed pushing himself into proper riding position, switching his gangly legs first, and head last. Just in time too, as the ride began peaking completely verticle, and severely increasing in speed.
It continued up and up and up, till Gordon was moving so fast, that the slide beneath him didn't even feel like it was there... Wait, it wasn't there at all! The giant of a man was sent skyrocketing into the dark and vertical corridor, surrounded by sludge of different shades and nothing else. Through it all, Gordon didnt scream once, he just adorned a look of surprise instead.
Without the slide, Gordons speed began to decrease, while his pattern of lag moved its arms back and forth searching for some type of stability, just like the original copy. The peak of the parabola had been met, and returning back down to whatever was below would commence.
It would commence...
Gordon looked forth to and fro unsure if he was falling, or still in midair. He couldn't feel the falling within his chest, nor did the sludge around him show intent of plummeting either.
"Uh...?" Gordon whispered, echoing loudly in the dark.
"FINALLY! Someone made their got-damn way here!" A sharp, almost grainy sounding voice erupted from the darkness.
Gordon remained silent, surprised and cautious by the voice. He couldn't be sure if it was a threat or not.
"Cmon! Take a load off!" It shouted happily, not really waiting for Gordon to reply. At the order, the slop around the man began to writhe, and contort, and move, till it had pieced together a room in puzzlepiece formation. The cracks started to shine, then they melded together fast, showing no signs it had ever been broken.
The walls had been painted with a light grey, while the ground formed a wave like carpet of white. The ungulating fabric tickled against Gordons feet, and the bright light above shown piercing as the desert sun.
"C'mere a sec Slenderman, I got somethin to say to you." The grainy voice erupted once more.
Gordon froze again, turning his head and body around slowly to look for the source of the seemingly disembodied voice. There wasn't any being in which he could identify with. No blob monsters, or animal people, or flower heads or nothing. Just a phone... The phone.
An old fashioned phone, sat on a marble table, right next to what seemed to be a door.
"Yeah Tiny, the phone, go to the damn phone!"
He was a bit dumbfounded at first, cautiously pointing a finger to himself and raising an eyebrow, to make sure the phone was addressing him.
"No, the carpet jackass! Yes you!" Gordon frowned, then took the short and few strides toward the old fasioned piece. It stood a bit taller than a man, with a mouth piece to talk into as large as a semi's wheel. It happened to be missing a "talk into" piece, and the base of it appeared to be constructed of light and energy, sorta like the image left behind Gordon when he moved.
The phone eyed Gordon as he closed the gap with him. "Seems you got a bad connection there son, lagging a bit?!" Gordon stopped in front of the old telephone, and cocked his head.
"Nevermind... Hey, you mind gettin me out of here?" Gordon paused for a moment.
"Here, out of, spreken ze english?"
"Yes..." Gordon moaned, getting "eye to eye" with the talking tech.
"Good, saves me some trouble translating. Care to get me out of here?" The phone spat impatiently.
Gordon held his hand up, to signal the phone to shut up. He then held it out, offering it to be shaken.
"My name is Gordon Tops, whats yours?" He said with a weak smile. The phone groaned.
"Mines Get Bent, now can we go?" Gordon dropped his hand, and frowned.
"Why should I take you with me? You are rude..." Gordon muttered with a sour tone.
"Cause I'm the only one to open the door. You don't and you are trapped with me anyway." It chuckled. "Now shut up and lets leave!"
"Very impatient mister Bently." Gordon groaned again, deciding on taking the telephone with him.
"IMPATIENT? I'VE BEEN-! Eh, er, I mean sorry. Can we go? I've been waiting here awhile now... And Bently? Seriously?"
The voice on the phone made a teeth grinding sound through the large reciever part. Gordon sat still for a minute, waiting to see if the phone would start whimpering.
Smirking he turned towards the door to leave. Wrapping his large fingers around the knob, he turned, ignoring what the phone had said. The second the door began to make a creaking sound, the knob lit ablaze, scorching the giants hands.
"Aggh!" He shouted.
"What part of I am the only one to open it don't you get? So now you're done being stupid, for the last time, can we go?!" Gordon groaned loud again.
"Fine. But only because you will let me out of here..."
"YES!" Bently shouted with childish glee. "Now as long as we are touching, and the connection with this light base is broken, the door won't burn ya, but I suggest doing it fast when you do."
"How come?" Gordon questioned, ready to pick up the device.
"Cause the room will eat you, now... please... can we-"
"Yes we can go." Gordon snapped, picking up the phone.
Then there was shaking, and wet sounds surrounding the two.
The room around started to bubble, and contort. The bright greys turned dark, while sharp jagged cones of white erupted from both ceiling and floor. Rotting skeletal remains, and writhing victims thrashed and moved amongst the wet inside of the giant room. The far back wall, stretched and turned circular, as if it were a throat. A growl, then a shout exploded forth in an ear deafening rush.
Gordon shoved the door open, and jumped through before the room had collapsed on itself.
The blasting desert winds scorched against Gordons face, while Bently shouted in a fit of joy to the Heavens.
Gordon stopped a moment, and looked around nervously. Though the unending sand was everywhere, Gordon could at least make heads or tails of where he was. But not now for some reason. This part of the desert was unfamiliar.
Turning around, he just barely caught glimpse of the door he went through explode into a burst of sand. Now there was no turning back...
"So? Judging by how big you are, you can move pretty fast right?" Bently choked out, after screaming in happiness.
"Uh yeah, why?" He almost regretted asking.
"Because you're a long ways from Kansas boy. Damn near the Outer Sands. The Voles here get ginormous. And mean. Hafta eat big things to stay alive. Hey guess what, you're a big thing! I say we get moving."
Near the Outer Sands? You were stupid if you went to being semi close to the Outer Sands. Sure the goodies you find closer to it become much much more valuable, and rare, but along with that is the accompanyment of more dangerous, vile creatures. Some beyond any mans skills. Some beyond any mans dreams!
Gordon quickly shuffled around in his chest compartment for the little black umbrella that he had borrowed from Giles Landing. He had to get out of here quick before something took notice.
"Woah come down big boy, gonna have a heart attack. Just keep your head, and run, you should find somewhere at somepoint."
The little black umbrella popped open quick, and violently, pointing toward the location of the traders location. Held between his forefinger and thumb, Gordon closed the umbrella shut, and packed it away. Bently too was crammed in, and packed shut. The second Gordons chest closed shut, he bolted forward, like wind on the sandy planes. Barely his feet seemed to touch the ground. Barely could you hear him move. He was moving as fast as he could.
A black shadow, lagging through the desert, not bothering on stopping.
|quote quick quote|
Apr 09, 12 at 11:04am ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Ilad loved the world. Not just the city, not just the desert, but also the whole black, white, and gray world. Possibility was defined solely by where you were, and how you got there. The trip, the destination, and the experience all flowed gracefully like a skyward stream.
But Ilad had not experienced any of it yet. Even here, there was still so much for him to find, to uncover, to embrace and claim. But out there, beyond the Black Passes… he would make the trip someday; perhaps not today, or this week… but someday, indeed.
And maybe others would accompany him along the way.
Ilad peered through the glass of his telescope, observing the rising gray dunes and dark pillars of rock set out before him. So far, there were no dangers… but that would change very soon, very obviously. He kept scanning, slowly inching his view rightward. He stopped when he spotted what he was excited to proclaim his ride through the desert.
The leg of an Eroding Giant.
“There we are.” Ilad said, putting the telescope back in his cloak and pulling up his scarf to cover his mouth. He felt around in his cloak for a pair of goggles, taking them out and putting them on.
Eroding Giants were, as their name implied, monolithic men of sand and rock that stood taller than towers and plodded across the sands with no purpose or destination. They existed merely to wander… and to provide wanderers with a means of easy transportation. The legs of an Eroding Giant were filled holes, nooks, and crannies that just about anyone could fit inside. And the smooth, open surfaces inside provide marginally comfortable sleeping conditions.
Luckily for groups of wanderers, Eroding Giants almost always traveled in families of four, two parents and two children. So, eight legs meant plenty of spots to fit into. And the Eroding Giants themselves never paid wanderers any attention at all. They were peaceful, docile things... usually. They would no doubt defend themselves againts any large enough creatures that attacked them. And for that, Ilad was grateful.
But seeing as the were giants, getting a grip took some effort and stamina, so Ilad wasted no time running straight for the family of Eroding Giants. He resisted the urge to stop and stare at them as he’d done so many times before. Seeing such immense, wandering forms of life was something of a pleasant sight to behold for one who enjoyed such eloquent descriptions like Ilad. But others would simply say how they liked watching the giants walk. Simple, but in the end, it meant just the same.
Sand flew up in little clouds behind each of Ilad’s steps as he dashed towards the closest giant’s left leg. He was aiming for the son of the family, the smallest, and male in appearance. He’d be easier to climb, but seeing as it was but a young boy to these giants, he wouldn’t have as many grooves or jagged edges to latch onto. With age comes erosion, as it was clearly evident.
Ilad spotted what looked like a small hole in the giant’s foreleg, right below its knee. That’s what he’d aim for.
The giant lifted its foot and took another long step forward, a cloud of sand forming around where his foot landed with a loud thud. Ilad was as close as he could get now, so his chance was just about to pass up. He made another mad dash forward and leaped just as the giant was about to raise its heel, latching onto one of the ledges just below its ankle. Ilad held on as best he could as the giant raised his foot and then brought it down again, sand blowing up in Ilad’s face, almost causing him to lose his grip. His scarf kept the stuff out of his teeth, and his goggles protected his eyes, so that was fortunate.
You couldn’t afford to lose your grip in situations like this. The sand would cushion your fall, but the feet of the next passing giant would most likely crush you.
Ilad quickly felt around for more ledges, making his way further up the giant’s ankle. As the giant strode further onward, Ilad slowed as he finally reached the hole beneath its knee. It was barely large enough for him to fit through. He pulled himself upward and fell inside, landing with a soft thud. The space he landed in was, thankfully, about the size of an apartment restroom. He adjusted himself and sat against the curved surface, peering out of the hole he crawled in through.
Now it was a window. If only he’d brought along a cushion to sit on and a drink, this would be a nice place to just sit and watch the desert go by, wherever the giant may walk. Huddled up in its leg, it seemed like a much smoother ride than ever.
Ilad set his head against the edge and peered onward. Even from such a distance, he could see a plethora of other desert-dwelling creatures; Avian Serpents flying in their serpentine fashion, young Desert Vores swimming and searching for their next meal, and so many more…
Still, there were no signs of a Great Defiler… yet. But Ilad would keep hoping this trip would go without such an encounter.
|quote quick quote|
Apr 11, 12 at 11:01pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
"SLOW DOWN SKIPPY! FOR CHRISTS SAKE!"
It sounded like the words echoed from nowhere in the desert, floating on the wind with the ever passing dust and sand. Just as blurry as the surrounding desert passing by in less than a blink.
It almost sounded like nothing at all.
"CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"
The words echoed, almost leaving a visual of the sound waves blossoming. The colors and shapes, all turning and moving into the landscape.
Gordon, capable of immense speeds beyond most things in the desert. One could even say he was the fastest... but that dependend on who you asked.
He was faster than Rockhounds, Voles, and even Giants and Defilers of immense size. He was built for high, yet soundless, movement. He was built to run. Think it would be a dream, no? To run faster than wind itself... But it has an affect on a man moving that fast. Some feel pride, some are exhilerated, some even would piss themselves, but in the end, they don't think straight.
Gordon... for him... It was entirely different of course. His mind... It just went. It disappeared when he got moving too fast. He could run, he could jump, he could climb, fight and flight, but when he reached too high a speed... It just affected his body. Almost like his systems shut down anything unneccessary to his ability to run. Superior thinking just so happened to be one of those things.
Only thing to stop Gordon was his own stamina, an unavoidable obstical, or someone to shock him out of his unconscious sprint.
Bently knew Gordon was going to walk himself into a death trap. And in preventing such an action, he had generated a low level charge from his own body at the expence of his "battery power."
Gordons body tweeked sharply, sending him jumping into the air, shouting in surprise. He had came to in mid air, just allowing enough thinking time to land without slamming his face down into the blazing sand.
The right foot landed first, blasting sand up violently in a dispersion most blinding. The left touched down, and had balanced the giant of a man. To prevent assaulting sand from invading any of his facial orffices, a large black hand was risen to sheild.
Gordon continued moving forward, large cliffs erecting around him as he continued forth into the dark chasm, till the momentum had been dispersed well enough to slow him to a lurching stop. Right in front of his stopping point flowed a gelatin like air, touching both walls of the ditch, sprinkled with rocks slowly moving back and forth within it. For a good 200 feet or so behind, was the parting of the grey sea of sand. All of it pushing, waving, and sinking back into place. In a minute, no one would even be able to notice anything had happened.
"Ugh... ah... where... what?" Gordon mumbled, rubbing his eyes
"Ey! You falling asleep at the wheel here? I don't feel comfortable having you drive from now on!"
Bently shrieked from inside Gordon, his grainy voice echoing through bones.
"Did I black out?"
"Yeah ya did! Mid run too! Almost booked it head first into the Stone Aquarium! If you did that, I'd be closer to you than I would ever want to be!"
"The Stone...? Oh... right." Gordon trailed off, resting his throbbing head in his oversized hands.
The Stone Aquarium, an odd formation within the sandy waves. Frozen in time you would say if you saw it. Only 3 ways of entering the anomoly. From above, behind, or in front, as sky scraping cliffs had erected on both sides of it, turning it into a perfect deathtrap. Etching its borders is still sand unwilling to move, and a slight disturbance in the air, like that of heatwaves. Inside flows like water in a lake, getting darker and darker the further it goes in, with the largest of stones circiling and swaying in the disrupt of gravity. Even predators avoid getting trapped in the gravity well for merely invading an inch in and the gravity gets ever so dense. Crushingly so. Of course the more "scientific," if such a word is even appropriate, people would theorize that the Stone Aquarium was due to a joint effort of large, and numerous amounts of psionic rocks conglomerated into one spot. (Of course those sciencey things are quickly dismissed with, "it just is" logic)
And psionic rocks? Lets just say, to avoid extensive explanation, they are somewhat sentient, telekinetic rocks, with anger issues.
"Now, I don't want to alarm you, and it looks like you need your rest, but you've been having something trailing you for awhile now." Bently mentioned quietly between Gordons brief inhales. The man raised his eyebrow in question.
"Im taking your silence as you in ponderance. Well needless to say, you got one of those giant rapey arm things comin down on you. Course at the speed you were going... by god, the thing couldn't keep up... But judging by the shift in winds, the ever slight vibrations of the sand below, and the silent thudding in the distance... it's still got your scent. Damn thing must be very hungry to chase you this far."
Gordon gulped loudly.
"Exactly. Now we got three ways of going about this. One, off ourselves now to avoid the Defiler in the Stone Aquarium, two, trek back aways and go around and risk running into the beast, or sit down and wait to get our asses handed to us."
"Ummm..." Gordon muttered, looking forward into the dark grey unknown of certain death. His head turned behind him, unable to see over the rolling waves of sand, and towering walls of rock.
"We could trek back aways... but we should hurry. My head hurts, and I'm not sure I could do with a bit of running for the moment."
"Can't run? THATS WHAT WE NEED YOU DOING! You may be tall, but you are extremely weak. So if thats your plan, I say we go straight forward. Sure we will die, but it would be better than arm rape for eternity. God knows it won't follow us in."
Not even considering taking the phones advice, Gordon began walking the opposite way of the Stone Aquarium. His feet shuffling along the sand loudly, tripping here and there. The uneven movement of rising and falling wasn't helping in the slightest either. Gordon's eyes too began to flutter, stopping mid stride, breathing fast. His second step, just barely out of the great divide he was trapped in, went out from under him, and into the sand he collapsed.
"YO Big Mac! Wake up! Gordon!? Gordon...!" Bently's voice began to drift as blackness enveloped the poor withered soul.
"Tired it seems?" A voice called out.
"A bit. Yes." Gordon responded, making no noise in the dark.
"You are aware that this isn't the time for naps right? Got yourself a Defiler after you. And having you die now would be a dissapointment for us all."
"Yes you are, now get up and get movin. Judging by my watch..." A face gets close to Gordons, a blonde boy in a beret, staring at his right eye.
"The thing otta be comin over the hill... now." And the snap of the fingers, Gordon flicks his eyes open.
The sickly sweet, and potent sting of rotting flesh stank invaded the air, with Bently screaming unidentifiable words in more than one accent at the top of his lungs. Blocking out all light, came the beast that no man could take on his own, writhing and moving over the hill, like a tangled net of rotten arms, swaying with the tides of the sands. It towered higher than Gordon, higher than the monolithic cliffs. Moving and changing, crawling and grabbing. Its four base hands, sparatically twitching its fingers, moving faster and faster. Every appendage on every hand was flipping out and clasping at the empty air the closer it got in. Desperate for just a taste of the man.
As it closed the last bit of gap, the body came crashing down upon the Poor Gordon.
But one doesn't catch a wet fish so easily with slow hands.
In a puff of dust, Gordon had catapulted himself backwards, out of grabbing, crushing force, leaving the Defilier drilling into the vacant sand where his body once lay.
"I... think... I just shat myself..." Bently whispered from Gordons chest.
"We aren't going to die now, so take a breath and relax." Gordon said with a smirk. His head was still swimming with flowing colors and throbbing pain, but fighting through discomfort was a common thing. Plus being smothered to death was a great motivation to swallow your bitchy attitude and push through anyway.
"You aren't going to fight it!? Are you stupid?" Bently shrieked.
"Of course not... that would be suicide... Just gotta be prepared." Gordon sighed, watching helpless as both edges of the ditch, and escape, began to clog with dark moving arms. Guess now the only way out was up. Gordon frowned, looking up to the light above. Then he faced his foe once more, extending his blade out from the right wrist. Once the 8 foot long blade had fully unsheathed itself, it all changed.
Everything, began to slow to a halt now. Moving ocean of arms; moving in sync with the sand below. Hell considering the circumstances, and pure awestruck visiual of the two, it was hard to tell what started where and ended where. All just moving grey. It even blended into the walls around it, giving the visual as if it was one with everything. It was kind of beautiful... in a macabre and twisted sort of way.
And the beast itself... so orderly in the way it commanded each different limb in its massive body. Gordon couldn't help but be amazed. That much moving tissue, how did it even know what was what?
With its ameobic constant switching and rearranging. It almost resembled a 4th dimensional shape... well one that we could put into a visual.
And then it struck, swaying a portion of its body, in a thick pulsating limb. Pushing it out like 4 trees taped together, being shot loose by 400 mph winds. It had flooded the floor to the walls; a broken dam of messy slop, pouring into place.
Gordon reacted as soon as the pile of mess had struck out towards him, leaping into the sky above, and over the pool of damnation. His body twisting, and turning, had allowed a slash from above. The rancid meat peeled away from the many limbs caught in the strike, some breaking their grip, and others falling apart at the bone.
The sight of such a beast taking such damage was otherwise pleasent to Gordon. To see something thought of as invincible react to your attack, was empowering.
But that wavering smile faded.
The damaged arms, simply swallowed completely by the beast, and shed from the whole, while numerous, intact arms replaced the damaged ones.
Caught off guard, the beast had stopped its attack mid swing, and changed course, sending it upward without warning. A lethal surprise.
Gordon had just twisted barely, his body targeting the small bit of unoccupied space between the so called rock, and the very molesting hard space.
He landed softly in the dust, watching as the beast drew nearer and nearer.
"We are going to die... Just jump back. Please jump back..." Bently muttered, sounding like he was trying to hold back tears.
"Sorry to say this, but shut up." Gordon muttered, just waiting for the thing to strike once more.
He eyed it sternly, and it wavered back and forth, readying an attack.
Then it struck once more. It's massive base hand, striking out to take Gordon in its grasp. But Gordon wouldn't except that. Again he jumped into the sky, out of harms way. He kept his eyes down however, making sure he had accomplished what he was going for.
Below him he watched as the hand began being sucked in slowly by the force. Even with its massive size, and massive strength, it was no match for this blackhole on earth. Its hand had been fully engulfed now, sucking in other parts of it as well. Arms flew into the gumbo of meat and gravity. Gordon couldn't help but smile.
But these things wouldn't die so easily. It wouldn't have its reputation if it did.
Being as detachable as it was, it merely needed only to let go, and it was safe from the continuous crushing.
The Defiler pulled back violently when cutting loose one of its walking hands, but that seemed to slow it down ney but a second, as the ocean shot up, back towards Gordon. An attack filled with animalistic rage.
His eyes widened at the scene. There was no way this was happening! No way the beast could be this invincible!
In a fit of panic and fear, he reached out towards the nearest wall, pulling himself towards it. His body clung without hesitation, and pushed off again, into the wall across from it. The wave of the beast crashing into the spot where Gordon lept, striking his lagging image behind him. He repeated the same move again as he reached the other wall, and again and again, till he began to see the sand dusting off the tops of the cliff.
Below him the Defiler began to rise, faster than he could raise himself. Its massive body, sliding up the walls, two giant hands reaching up below him.
A desert version of Jaws, closing in on its victim from below.
Gordon was panicking now. The uncertainty of his escape was the only thing on his mind. He could feel the sickening warmth radiating from the clasping hands on the pads of his feet. He could smell the putrid air, gushing up Faithfully. Just one thing wrong... and he was engulfed by such a thing. One wrong twitch... one wrong breath. His eyes focusing on the light bathed ledge above. His outstretched hand reaching for this last shred of hope.
The only thing he could hear was his own ticker, pounding away in his ears. Bently's obnoxious shouts, drowned out by fear. He felt the warmth of both the sand between his fingers, and the soft melting flesh of the defilers massive hands.
He gripped hard.
And he pulled with all his might.
His eyes squinted tightly, unwanting to see the outcome.
Then it was nothing.
This was it. The end.
Gordon smiled a weak smile, and opened his eyes slowly. Hoping for angels, the only thing in his sight happened to be the arriving sand. How beautiful it was now. Bettter than angels.
He struck it painfully, tucking into a roll. His body flailed across the sand, but it felt good. Even getting the sand into places it shouldn't be.
Gordon had stopped himself on all fours now, looking towards his assaultee.
The hands... They continued upward, hugging each other tight. Beneath it, the body slimmed down, as available arms became less and less. When there was no more to raise, the fingers unlocked, while the hands passed by, barely touching the other.
Then they seperated. Both hands had equally split the amount of arms to share, slamming into the ground on both sides of them. The sand began to quake now, as the Defiler began lifting its body from below. The arms... they scraped the canyon, and they began to rip it apart.
Land cracked around where the Defiler had risen. Its thick body proving too much.
This thing didn't quit... It didn't give up!
"Hey we gonna keep gawking while this thing gets the chance to kill us, or are we gonna get our 5 second head start?" Bently had muttered, his voice shaken to the core. Gordon stared blankly for a moment, his thought process empty.
"Uh... yes... Yes!" He got off the desert floor as quick as a flash, and into the rolling sands once more.
Past the rising and falling currents, Gordon ran and jumped, like an insect traveling on water. Behind him he knew the beast would follow, but this time, he couldn't black out. It would be the death of him.
His pace was steady, and above that of the injured Defiler, but if he tripped, or faltered, that was it.
Now his life was in anothers hand. And whoever it was, he just hoped it wasn't connected to the rotting legion of many others.
Edit: Apr 11, 12 11:17pm
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Apr 14, 12 at 12:34pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Ilad was asleep. He’d been so for the last hour. Yes, falling asleep while huddling within the leg of an Eroding Giant was a difficult task, but once the rhythm of its left footstep caught on… Ilad found silence in its steps.
Before long, he’d be close enough to the Black Passes to depart from the striding family and continue on his own.
The desert is strange and unpredictable place, however… and one can never tell when an estranged chance of an unexpected encounter comes creeping.
The giant’s footsteps halted. After a moment, Ilad woke up, groaning after having left his neck to the care of a rocky surface to slumber. That was why he should have brought a pillow. He shielded his eyes from the outside light for a moment before peering out the crevice. The giant’s family had stopped wandering, standing in an uneven order, as if tense and expecting… danger.
Ilad saw nothing, however. No Desert Vores biting the giants’ feet or Psionic Rocks flying around their heads like gnats… no dangers for them at all, and Ilad felt completely safe.
And then a chance encounter struck.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ilad saw something sliding down the towering dune overlooking the family of giants. He quickly reached for his spyglass and looked onward, seeing the miniscule figure in the distance was… a man; a tall, slender man with ethereal copies of himself trailing behind him as he dashed forward, towards the giants, not seeming aware or caring about whatever he was running from.
The dune overlooking the family of giants gave way to a massive burst of sand. The sunlight encompassing the surrounding desert was quickly blocked out by a legion of interlocked silhouettes, clinging to each other, forming something of a crude, monolithic cage, walking on lowered appendages and tumbling down the dune.
A Great Defiler.
“Oh, lord…” Ilad exclaimed, immediately taking action. The giant’s leg began to stir as it readied itself for the enemy that was mere seconds away. Ilad grabbed his belongings and leaped out of the giant’s leg, not hesitating for a second. He landed with a thud, kicking up a small cloud of sand to go with the impact. Ilad turned to the slender man, still running from the Great Defiler, which had now set its sights on the Eroding Giants. But as epic a battle between a monolithic monster and a family of titans sounded, it was no safe place to be caught in the middle of. So Ilad and this unfortunate fellow would have to move quickly.
There was a dune nearby; a curvaceous one, easy to get to and take cover behind.
“There!” Ilad called out to the slender man, “Over there! Follow me!”
The slender man seemed to almost mindlessly obey the command and dashed straight for Ilad. That was when it became apparent; this man was remarkably fast to add to his ridiculous height. He seemed to literally run right over Ilad’s head without having to stop, crossing the dune and sliding atop it with Ilad following closely behind. Ilad approached the man lying on the sand, panting heavily, and asked him the simplest question.
“Are you alright?”
The man picked himself up and turned to Ilad, nodding. Even in a seated position, he was taller than any other man Ilad had met before. It was cause for a short moment of silence and astonishment, but then he remembered the Great Defiler… they both did. The two men turned and stared, as the fight was about to ensue, and they both knew it would; Eroding Giants always defended themselves from predators.
“What’s going on? What’s happening?” A grainy voice sounded out. Ilad looked at the slender man, but he hadn’t said anything. The voice appeared to emanate… from his chest. The slender man then reached… into, his chest, and pulled out what appeared to be a candlestick phone with no chord. He placed it on the sand, and then it became clear the phone was sentient.
“Oh…” It said, “Giants! Yeah, giants will work just fine!”
The father of the family was standing before the writhing mess of giant, rotting arms and fingers. It twitched and furled constantly, showing its anger… and its hunger. The giant took a defensive stance and raised its arms, bringing them down on the Great Defiler. The monstrosity quickly reacted, several of its own arms rising up and grabbing the giant’s fists.
At that moment, Ilad noticed something peculiar about the Great Defiler. There was a rather large chunk of it missing. As if something had ripped a number of its many rotting arms right off. It was still bleeding profusely, the gallons of blood falling to the sand below.
Ilad could understand how the monster would want revenge for whatever did this to him. But the man next to him couldn’t have pulled off such an impressive feat. Compared to it in terms of size, he was still like a kitten to the Great Defiler.
So it must have been something else. But as for now, the battle between the titans raged on.
The giant backed away from the monster’s grasp and stood again, but the Great Defiler lunged at it and grabbed its shoulders, attempting to wrestle it into submission. The giant grabbed hold of several clusters of the monster’s interlocking arms and lifted it into the air, releasing the grasp of its many fingers and tossing it aside. A massive cloud of sand flew up as the Great Defiler landed on the large dune it appeared from, struggling to keep itself upright as it tumbled backward.
The rest of the Eroding Giant’s family approached the Great Defiler as the father did. The monster recollected itself and began creeping forward. But it didn’t go for the father of the family. As the son stepped forward, the Great Defiler directed its focus on the smallest giant and leaped forward, the myriad of hands grabbing the giant all over its upper body and forcing it backward.
The giant, and the monster, both began to fall in the direction of the dune Ilad and the slender man stood upon.
“Oh, no…” Ilad called out, “Move… move! Move!”
Ilad and the slender man both stood up to run. The phone called out, “Hey, hey! Me too!” The slender man ran back and grabbed the phone, the shadows of the falling titans already encroaching the surrounding area. The two men turned and ran for their lives; the back of the Eroding Giant hitting the sand first, and then the rest of the Great Defiler tumbled further. Ilad and the slender man both narrowly avoided the fingers descending on them. The last thing they wanted was to be touched by that thing. They made it to another dune and jumped for cover.
The Great Defiler had its hands wrapped around the son of the family, choking it, strengthening its grip until the rocks around its neck began to crack. The rest of the family quickly reacted and grabbed the monster by its entangled arms and pulled it off of their son. The giants’ grips left no opportunity for the monster to escape. The three giants then began to slowly walk further away from each other, the mess of arms between them beginning to thin out.
A loud crack was heard that echoed across the desert; the first bone broken. Another one, and then several more, until finally the Great Defiler burst in two halves, both savagely ripped from each other. The massive spray of blood fell to the desert floor below, almost coating the three spectators in black, putrid filth.
The mother and daughter giants both tossed their half of the monster aside, but the father, in a fit of anger for the loss of his son, kept ripping the other half to shreds, until it was almost nothing but single arms and chunks of hands. Then… it let go.
The remains of the Great Defiler lay scattered around the area, and the son of the family lay dead as well.
Ilad looked onward at the fallen giant, feeling an unpleasant sense of remorse. The kind boy had given him a free trip halfway across the desert… and now the hands of an unruly abomination had taken him away forever.
The father knelt down and stared endlessly at his dead son. Though Eroding Giants didn’t have faces, they could still express some emotions… like sadness and melancholy.
After a moment, the father stood up. He glared at his son’s corpse once more, and then turned and continued striding across the expansive desert before him, his wife and daughter following closely behind. Eroding Giants did not bury their dead; they allowed the sands to engulf them over time and remove them from the sight of others. Sometimes, half-buried giants lay sprawled across the sands for travelers to witness and maybe grieve over, or nary a quick glance and then move forward.
Ilad continued staring at the dead giant. He sighed and shook his head at the scene. At least the remains of the monster that killed him were strewn about to let all who passed know that his death had been avenged.
“Well… that’s a shame…” The phone called out, a slight drop in tone evident in its voice.
Ilad glanced back at the slender man who was carrying the phone in his hands. The Great Defiler was dead, so he had nothing to run from. He’d looked like he’d caught his breath by now, so Ilad stepped forward and looked up at the monolithic figure standing before him.
“Well…” Ilad said, motioning at the dead giant, “I guess that’s that, then…”
“Yeah…” The slender man replied quietly.
“He’s not ours to feel sorry for.” Ilad said, “But we’ll remember him for a time. So will anyone else who passes by here.” Ilad sighed and then said, “So… I’m Ilad. Who are you?”
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Apr 17, 12 at 8:22pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
A wide smile pushed its way onto Gordons face. Like someone hit a Gordon shaped piece of clay with the broadside of a pencil.
He dropped down to a crouch fast, lagging all the way, to get somewhat level with the man. Ilad backed up slightly as he did. Gordon eyed him up and down, taking note of both his outfit, ethnicity, and the rose protruding from the crown/forehead.
Outstretching a large hand, he grinned wider. Most people out here were so busy trying to escape something about to eat them, running from someone trying to kill them, or treasure hunting, that niceties went out the window first. It was rare to say the least, but still plesent on the occasion it reared its head.
"Nice to meet you Ilad, my name is Gordon." He announced, low and even. Ilad smiled too, then took one of the fingers on his hand and shook it.
"Nice to meet you too Gordon."
The giant man retracted his hand back, and rested it on his knee, just as the other had been on the opposite leg. Bently standing in the desert behind him.
"I won't lie. It's nice to have a decent conversation. Especially with all thats happened." Gordon chuckled. Ilad nodded, looking over towards the pile of mess that once was the Defiler. Gordon chuckled again.
"That too, but I meant the mouthy one behind me. And everyone and thing before him. Never bother on having any manners."
"Shut it Slenderman."
Ilad smirked. Both sat quiet, almost reaching the point of awkward.
"Well... I was just headed back towards Giles Landing... What about you? Ya know... Before I brought the Defiler here..." Gordon chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You're just smooth when talking with people aren't ya? Im embarressed to see you talk to a woman." Bently muttered out loud. Gordon turned and eyed him angrily, before facing Ilad once more.
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Apr 17, 12 at 9:08pm ^re: Kybur Presents: The Rodavlas [M] [PM] [D-B]
Ilad smirked. The phone, Mister Bently as it seemed, was an amusing personality in the desolate expanse.
“I myself just came from there.” Ilad said to Gordon, “Running low on that good old dark wine. Heading for the Black Passes to bottle up some more and take it to the Sandfall Hotel.”
“Sandfall Hotel?” Gordon replied with a slight tone of surprise in his voice, “Oh, so you’re that Ilad...”
“Owner and proprietor.” Ilad said with a smile, “There’s plenty of the cheap stuff in the shelves back home, but I can’t stand the putridity. Man of eloquent taste… needs the best products to suit his needs, you know?”
Gordon smiled, chuckling a little.
“Can’t say I’m used to such, uh… pleasantries.”
Ilad nodded and stared further at the scattered remains of the Great Defiler. “What’d you do to attract that monster, anyway? And how come some of it was missing?”
Gordon shrugged with his bony shoulder and said, “Well… exploring has its downsides? I may have drawn it toward the Stone Aquarium on my way back home…” Ilad raised an eyebrow and said, “Stone Aquarium? You lured a Great Defiler into that death trap?”
“It sure as hell wasn’t the work of an expert!” Bently called out. Gordon shot him another glare, and the talking phone chuckled silently.
“Well, it’s still pretty impressive.” Ilad said.
“I guess…” Gordon replied with a lower tone, “But… still… if I hadn’t brought it all the way here, maybe that giant would still be walking…” Ilad sensed the faint melancholy in the man’s voice and said, “Giants die, they sink into the desert, and then they’re born from the stacks again. Don’t worry… he’ll be back someday.”
Gordon smiled a little and nodded, still looking at the dead giant. “So…” He said, “The Black Passes… going all the way there just for some wine?”
“It flows through the caverns without touching the floor.” Ilad said, “So it retains its magnificent taste. Got two bottles from Giles just for the occasion, and I don’t plan on walking away unsatisfied… plus, I need to bring something back for him as payment. He doesn’t want any coin this time, something… nice, I guess. Regal. Decorative. Fit for the shelf.”
Gordon nodded and said, “Normally, I don’t think you city slickers care for the sand and grime out here, but… well Ilad, you seem pretty weatherworn to me.”
Ilad chuckled and said, “Can’t have all or nothing. Has to be a little bit of both.”
Gordon nodded and stood up, standing taller than all once more. “Well…” He said, “The Black Passes are pretty dangerous… lots of dangerous critters in there, like Abysmal Vores…”
“Won’t be a problem.” Ilad said, “Not until I get there, at least.”
Gordon smiled and said, “Best of luck, Ilad…”
“Same to you.” Ilad said, extending his hand to shake Gordon’s finger once more. “Hopefully you and I will be seeing each other again sometime soon, Gordon. Travel together, maybe?”
“Perhaps sometime in the future. I always do stick to the desert.” He said, reaching into his chest and pulling out one of Giles’ umbrellas. “Until then… I have somewhere to be.” He opened the umbrella and let the sudden gust of wind point it in the direction of Giles’ Edge. He closed it, and then stored it back inside his compartment-like chest. He then picked up Bently and began walking in the direction the umbrella pointed towards.
After a moment, Gordon turned and waved his hand once; Ilad performing the same gesture in respect for the man he’d hoped would become a regular acquaintance. Gordon seemed like a wonderful person, if not a little bit rusty with conversations.
Once the two were far enough apart, Ilad turned his head toward the Outer Sands, and beyond them… the dark mountains and canyons on the very distant horizon; the Black Passes.
Ilad began walking onward to his destination.
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