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Post by Luka on Apr 1, 2004 22:18:30 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]This is where the old ships of the past are dumped. You can find almost anything here. The land is filled with the dilapidated skeletons of shipwreck victims. The red moon and skyline create a disturbing atmosphere. Fighting is Allowed.[/glow]
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Post by Adrian on Jun 23, 2009 23:27:59 GMT -5
After the incident at Chenting Inversion, one would have expected the being to continue on toward the ultimate goal this being was currently in pursuit of. Instead the strange land had deposited them off here into a strange world. Strange. . . but somehow familiar. Memories came in flickers of a previous existence in this foresaken place. Death had come at last in some previous incarnation and the Devil's soul sent here for no other reason than un-negotiatable damnation. Space and time deciding what would happen to such an Innocent Devil. . . how it would evolve.
Powers of alignment fought and ripped eachother apart constantly for the chance to ressurect in one form or another. It escalated to the point of polarizing the remains of one soul into two distinct entities. Corruption brought on from an outside source developed a will of it's own to stay that way and refused to be left behind. Purity of the original strived to survive not only the corruption but death itself an undying ability of sheer and utter creation. Which side would prevail? No man could say. . .
Rotten. . . to the bitter core. That's what this place calls me.
The resulting conflict spawned an entity from the corruption and one from the purity. Such differences existed between them to becme separated. . . and yet the similarities had enough pull to release them into the same city. In the Junk Yard now stood the resulting form corruption had taken in the resurecting evolution wearing the same exact clothes as when he had first appeared. A man in his twenties with brown hair and violently violet eyes which looked dull. In his hand, rested a certain spear. . . a weapon which some could not be sure was the original or a dazzling replica. Buzzing about his mind were thoughts about how to escape when nothing had really
Red moonlight shone down upon a portrait of ruin made up of old ships and skeletal remains that took up the entire area. Looking up at the crimson beacon on the horizon offered no comfort. If he even wanted comfort from anything.
Why did fate place him here so far from the real world? presented itself.
Did I die?
Up in the sky, sounds of strange machines caught his eyes in a vice-grip. Curiousity denied the option to look away from the young man for now, allowing him to bear witness to a pair of airships doing battle. How had they come to be? Did fate not only bring him to this shadowy realm. . . but to a futuristic time of it as well? Just thinking about that opened new possibilities while killing others. More than likely it had always been this way. . . with no one really lasting long enough to notice.
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Post by Adrian on Jun 23, 2009 23:48:54 GMT -5
Gunfire roared while a battle between two airships raged up above in the skies over the junkyard. Just what were they fighting for anyway? Survival. . . perhaps that was all any of them fought for down here now. Explosions rocked one side while the other must have been sporting some type of shielding. One could quite possibly could have been the infamous Nameless airship hellbent on pillaging. What would the outcome of this battle spell out for the Biker? A possiblty existed that one of them might become his ticket out of the Demon World. But if fate placed him here. . . perhaps such a plan would not become carried out so easily. No one would ever help the newest arrival for nothing in return, that was for certain.
At that point a figure resembling the Biker in a few ways emerged out of the wreckage of a downed ship. He sported long blonde hair and blue eyes which slowly tainted into a shimmering red which complmented the moon. Meanwhile his fair skin looked untouched by the ravages which his surroundings had suffered. Black leather pants with an asian design only complimented the white dress shirt covered by a leather jacket which had seen better days.
Sheathed at his side existed a Katana called 'Devil Replusor' with a blade possessing strong enough Dimensional properties able to drive demons back into Hell. The Living Hellhole obtained it from the high priestess at a buddist monastary who he battled right after emerging on the 'Human World' again. Luckily for him. . . she realized that inspite of his curse that he was a decent man dead set on a mission. Not wishing to abandon her duties just to follow him around the globe, she decided to let him keep the sword to control what he could not. Often Raphael had used it when he fought against Demons who possessed him with a will stronger than his own. With it they were sliced and sent back to Hell piece by piece to prevent unwanted destruction and loss of lives in the Human World.
Raphael was the name he went by, a man who outwitted the Devil himself in bargaining for immortality only to recieve a Hellish curse. From that day forth he became an immortal, living Hellhole which any manner of Demons could pass through if they were strong enough to dominate his will. Consequently he could also call upon those very same Demons to augment himself with the means to take down foes in battle while continuing the search which led him into hell.
More than anything he wanted to relocate a young witch who had taken him in what was years ago from now. It had taken him across the globe on a path which strangely consisted of Demons and Occult Humans who opposed a certain dark manipulator acting behind the scenes. One who had actually supplied him with the means to outwit the Devil on the occasion which resulted in his curse. Recently the search had led him back to Hell. . . ending with a battle in this junkyard where he lost. Not just anyone either, the one who had killed the witch in order to further a plot now taking place on 'Earth'.
But no sympathy existed.
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Post by Adrian on Jun 24, 2009 0:15:50 GMT -5
Greeting this likely opponent came the slick appendage resembling a stinger out of Cobier's jacket sleeve. Striking a stance, he place the left foot in front of the right while the empty-handed arm came up with a closed fist. In a way it resembled an ancient Knight who wielded a spear or lance preparing to charge as his empty arm would look more complete if bearing some sort of shield. Except that the Hornet Commander lacked a noble steed and family crest on that missing shield to carry him onto the battlefield with honor.
Raphael unsheathed his sword almost reflexively without really even questioning why the violet-eyed man wanted to fight. Perhaps the Hornet Lord was just suffering while in the hive-minded nature he had picked up from re-incarnation. But the fact that Cobier now faced one who truly seemed like the 'Legion' of biblical tales, how would he win? Especially when the swarms of Hornets were no longer present for him to command in battle as his allies against the enemy.
Both combatants charged directly at one another until they met in a shower of sparks. The stinger had clashed with the Dimensional blade, forming an "X" shape up until a crafty move was played out by Raphael. Out from his stomach came a tentacle covered in serrated teeth which lashed out at the Biker fiercely. Unable to completely dodge, Cobier took a small slash across his belly before avoiding the rest of Raphael's attack which would have likely disemboweled him.
In his free hand, the Hornet Commander held a short spear which suddenly expanded as the Stinger weapon retracted. Just to prove the skill he possessed with the weapon after such a short time, he used the expanding length to run the tentacle through. Electricity bolted through the weapon into Raphael's demonic appendage as it was now pinned to the ground. Agonized yells of the Blonde filled the air before a Hell-hound's head formed on his hand as the Sword rested in the other. Bitting down hard, powerful jaws separated himself from the tentacle as a howl of pain came from the Hell-hound hand.
Pulling the spear out of the ground gave Cobier just enough time to parry a sword blow from the side by Raphael. Yet it did not save his hand from getting latched onto by the living Hell-hound head hand in a death-grip. One which threatened to tear that hand right off. Unfortunately for the Horrornet 'Innocent' Devil, that threat of losing his hand became fully realized as it was ferociously torn away without mercy. Blood barely started to pour out of the stump before the Stinger weapon shot out at an inhuman speed. It was quick enough to actually stab & pierce the Hell-hound hand which currently tried chewing on the latest scrap of food torn from Cobier.
Venom entered the summoned appendage's very brain, working to paralyze it almost instantly after injection. Cells were killed off, destroyed one by one in quick succession due to the powerful dose of hornet venom delivered directly into the central nervous system. Only the fact that it was a Hell-hound kept it alive longer than what time it took for the deadly venom to interact. But it was spreading farther than that hand. . . threatening to poison Raphael's entire body.
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Post by Adrian on Jun 25, 2009 13:04:09 GMT -5
Raphael realized he did not know how to rid himself of the venom augmented beyond reason that Cobier's stinger had dispensed. However, he knew that one last deed could be done to hurt not only the Hell which had damned him but this Devil as well. Quickly, he tried to summon every single type of Demon he could think of at the moment and released all restraint. Most of all he tried to call upon the one who had murdered the little Witch girl. Now he would become nothing but a poisoned hellhole to trap the denizens of hell in a toxic fate. One which could serve as his overdue revenge against those who had killed the Witch he had once befriended.
Cobier used the Spear taken from Legion to drive away what Demons saw him as a target for their deviant nature. Most of all, each one had a small imprint on their minds from Raphael to attack his one-handed foe. It was the manner in which he had always controlled any Demon connected to him through the Hellhole curse.
A thousand creatures tried to exit the darkest corners of the Demon World, not knowing they would only end up in this junkyard to die. Every single inch of him now harbored the presence and spirit of some sort of Devil: toes, fingers, elbows, feet, hands, liver, stomach, butt-cheeks, and hundreds of other places. No longer did he look anything like himself anymore either. Instead he appeared as a large mass of writhing demon parts entangled within each other as they struggled for a freedom that would never come. Parts of each presence stuck out from all over on strange places whether it was only a mere claw, a wing, a leg, a head or even a tail of sorts Just in sheer size alone he had quadrupled in mass to the point of reaching twenty feet at the tallest and seventy feet at the widest.
Toxic death seeped into the veins of each and every last demonic presence connected to him in this current state. No escape was possible for them at all. Sounds of rage, agony, betrayal, and even relief filled the air in a cacophony of their own amassed demise at this one spot. Where would their souls go to? Likely some predatory Demon which fed upon souls would claim their spirits sooner or later.
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Post by Adrian on Jun 25, 2009 13:12:51 GMT -5
Walking over to the pile of damned flesh, Cobier suddenly felt himself struck by the force of Raphael's acursed power entering his already corrupt being. Perhaps this was why fate had placed him here? To grant him powers which would only aid in the search for some mysterious man in memories from a previous incarnation. From that moment on he gained an ability similar to the second 'Legion' he had just defeated in the Junkyard:
Calling forth hornets or other supernatural insects with stingers from the Demon World through his own body.
Suddenly, screams from far above filled the air as one of the ships started to take on heavy damage from the other. But just who did the screams come from? Certainly no innocent humans existed here to act as crew upon those airships. Not in a place like this one unless they were damned souls, enslaved by the Devilish heirarchy to do their menial tasks. Other demonic creatures were the only logical conclusion left to make. However Cobier did not even bother to think about it that long . . .
He lost interest in the conflict above with a reaction which was rather complimenting to those dull violet eyes of violent intent. But why? Cobier would only benefit if he could find a way back to 'Earth' through one of those Airships. Perhaps it had to do with the fact he was still bleeding from where his hand had been so graciously removed by the Hell-hound hand of that formerly Living Hellhole. Regardless of what the innerworkings of his mind were doing. . . he still started to ignore the airship battle just the same. It left the Biker enough leeway to examine the pile of venom-laced remains of the psuedo-Legion.
Home is where you make it. . .
But why?
Home is where the heart is. . .
Suddenly, in a grotesque display, the young man held the bleeding stump of his missing hand over the demonic bonedust and let it soak in the crimson liquid. Did he believe this would be some type of offering to an unknown diety? After a while the droplets of blood from his stump came out as Hornets instead. Every last one appeared cold and caring as Cobier fell into the remains, now rendered unconscious due to his severe bloodloss.
Fashioning the blood-soaked remains into some strange shapes, these hornets which were spawned from their master's own blood worked dilligently for a good half an hour. Building it around and on top of a nearly-dead Cobier left him out of sight from any potantial onlookers which chose to observe such a bizzare ritual. One would eventually realize it resembled a crude hive after all the work was completed. Underneath a restoration took place as the honey of demonic hornets dripped down onto their fallen leader's body.
Now the blood-hive sat there menacingly without a hint of silence, standing twenty feet tall while the Hornets worked to revive Cobier. Equivalent exchange was a possible explanation for what as going on right now, since the healing honey in the honeycomns was likely derrived in some way from his own life's blood. Time passed by until those eyes of his actually flittered open into tiny slits. Watching intently with those dull eyes, life began stirring once again inside the honeycombs built with his own blood.
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Post by Adrian on Jun 25, 2009 13:13:11 GMT -5
Revived from the bones and blood of demonic origin, Cobier slowly rose up inside his recently fashioned hive to look around at what had been built in his metaphorical absence. A pleased smirk of arroagnce took hold of his expression. Each honeycomb would continue to produce the hornets independent of whatever the yong man smmoned from his own body. In those dull violet eyes, the gleam of satisfaction had found a temporary home as the Biker surveyed the extent of his loyal swarm. Demonic hornets surrounded him in what almost seemed like a frenzy of followers before they emerged from their birthplace in a swarm to herald the return of their revered creator.
Standing out in the open, even his oufit had changed from the one he sported before. It appeared the Hornets had gone shopping for him online at a motorcycle racing website while he recovered from within the safety of the Hive. Only. . . any logos were now missing as if to prevent any identification with the company they were relicated from. Around his neck hung a pair of goggles with lenses which matched his violet eyes. Now his leather jacket had the color yellow on the outside while the jacket itself remained completely zipped up rather than open. Black leather pants met with practically armoured looking boots which had yellow for a secondary color. Gloves kept his hands completely concealed under yellow and black leather adorned by stylish armor for extra protection.
Almost like he was auditioning for the X-Men.
Moreso than the natural ones he had used in the realm of Man, these Hornets' wings truly sounded akin to a funeral dirge played in mourning. Only this created a sense of irony since no one existed in the junkyard to be morned at all. Unless one concerned the thousand or more Demons who perished in the dying trap Raphael set in his final moments. Summoning a swarm of these bees had taken quite a sacrifice in this world that appeared to exist without logical rules.
Opening his mouth up to reveal he possessed stingers for teeth, a deep laugh of victory echoed outward. But before his mouth had closed they transformed into the regular teeth of a human being. Why? No one could really understand unless they asked Cobier himself for the answer. But not many people would probably wish for such an oppertunity after beholding the strange feats he could accomplish.
Up in the sky a battle still raged on and called out for interference from an outside party despite the hopelessness of the situation. One of the ships had lost in the conflict, now stranded without a defense as the enemy airship grew closer. At that moment it became obvious the agressor intended to board the victims of plundering. Fates of an unkind nature likely awaited all of the remaining survivors on board. . . and every last one of them knew it deep doen inside whether they had a soul or not.
Would anyone attempt to save them?
Glowing wings of golden demonic energy sprouted from the shoulders of Cobier. They looked like insectiod wings Hornets usually possessed, only these were of the supernatural variety. Soon enough the Biker had flown out of the Junk Yard with his new swarm in tow.
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