|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 7:14 pm
Lawr wasn't sure what to make of the Death Lead's question, nor the change in scheduled execution. He was neither relieved nor disappointed, it simply meant that a lot of facts needed due adjusting.
He might well have lied to anyone else, might have said that he had some greater ulterior motive or plan, but he suspected Cael had more of a handle on him than most people did, so he simply didn't bother.
"I do not have a good reason for my actions. Fondness for an individual is not an excuse. I simply wanted to see her reactions." There was no other way to justify it when even he did not fully comprehend why in the moment it had been important to harm her and deny her her victory.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 8:10 pm
"So this just, confirmed twice, a waste of my ******** time." It was a common tactic; to lure people into false hope. It didn't do anything to help the two. They weren't interesting at all.
"Your weapon, America. Your weapon and coat. On my desk."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 8:29 pm
She swallowed and tightened her jaw before giving the order a terse nod. There wasn't much she could say that could make things worse, and the strain of speaking even those few sentences left her throat feeling as stripped and raw as the day before. Carefully she upinned Stryker's totem, fumbling with the clasp only once, then removed the pieces that made up her coat. Folding them neatly she placed them on the desk and waited, counting out every beat of her pulse with a focus bordering on desperate.
Until it stopped she would be okay. Everything would be okay.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 8:38 pm
He didn't much like the way the other man was treating America, and it was a strange sensation. He'd never once felt defensive about anyone other than himself. His entire life had been self interest if you could even call it that, given that he had zero sense of self preservation.
"She did not take an active part in any of this." he said, not that he expected it to make any difference at all.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 8:58 pm
Lawr was ignored. He had nothing to gamble with, other than the same bland words he always used, bounding off an immovable object.
In a second any guise of calm was removed, in a second the Death lead had summoned his weapon - and he seemed a little more like a terrible leader and a little less like a person - and then America's weapon was taken.
It was taken as much as reclaimed, as the weapon buried into the seemingly innocent totem, as it easily took out a good chunk of the desk and cleaved right through the coat but that was almost ignored because her weapon was screaming, and it began to unwind, as black Fear seeped out from it revealed its original form for almost a second, and then crumbled into its imperfect tablet form.
Perhaps Stryker had a second chance because he was convenient, but this did not apply to his former owner.
There were no chances for a second pardon. The curved weapon moved forward, in a practiced, precise arc.
Until America stopped everything would be okay.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 9:34 pm
- CLANG-
Caelius spoke first. "Stand the ******** down Allan."
"No." The Sun lead was defiant, and his weapon resisted. There was a strange noise, an odd almost grating shriek as both weapons contested against each other. Allan didn't move. "This isn't the right way to-"
- "Stand the <********> down."
The room was distorting. At this rate, Lawr and America would be crushed regardless. Perhaps if they had been a little stronger, or a little wiser.
"You-" Allan faltered and then there was a determined glint in his eyes. "You owe me, Caelius. You promised. I went and- I-" he couldn't finish the sentence.
The glass on the somewhat newly repaired window shattered, papers, splints of wood scattering all directions. The tiles on the floor themselves began to unravel-
- And then stopped. The Death lead had desummoned his weapon. It took Allan a second longer, and then he followed suit, moving defensively in behind America and Taym. "You are correct," Caelius began, tersely. His tone betrayed his disdain. "I do in fact, owe you. Once. If you use it now, your division will not be given any more leniency if they-"
-"I understand." The Sun lead was adamant and he might have looked just a bit sad. "I can't not save people. I want America and-"
- "Just one."
A long pause. Allan looked determined, as if he was ready to fight back. He had balled both his hands into fists, tensed, and then, slowly, quietly, stopped. He quietly turned, and placed his hand on Lawr's shoulder. "I'm sorry."
And with that, he took America and a second later the tablet, literally hoisting her up, and then exited via the entirely broken wall leading to the training fields and more importantly the hospital.
Lawr, and just Lawr was left here alone. Not everyone could be saved.
Caelius had paused for a moment longer, angry for the wrong reasons. The Death lead hadn't lost anything. It was a dangerous move, and Allan knew it too. Sacrifices had been made.
"Lawrence," the Death lead began. "Your weapon, and coat." Lizbot Allan brought America to the infirmary just in case, but they totally need a pep talk ok biggrin
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 11, 2014 5:27 am
Lawr simply watched the standoff and waited, he didn't run away, he didn't flinch short of physical instinctual responses.
And America was saved. She had been right, she would not die that day.
Allan got a silent look as he apologised, it was a strange gesture, he owed him nothing after all, there was no need to try and save him.
Shrugging off his coat he placed it on the table and with one hand undid the rolex totem around his slender wrist.
And then he set that on the table too. He had asked for neither, having them foist upon him instead, but over time had grown as fond of the canine as it was possible to be. Without the emotional guide he would once again be back at square one.
He said nothing at all.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 12:45 am
The whole room was wrecked and yet Caelius took the time to stay seated, pull out a folder and begin rifling through it as if half the content of his room and any viable information wasn't literally bleeding its guts out on the floor. He wrote a few notes on it, the header had something related to the Sun Division, and offered Lawrence nothing. The forms for stamped, the weapon and coat taken. It was nothing as fancy as America, the first was for example, the second just procedure, and Lawrence was just a secondary character. His weapon was sealed and it took no time at all.
"We will continue as scheduled. You will be assigned to the Antarctic base, undeserving of your title as a Hunter. It was a mistake to recruit any from Wonder Park, and unsurprisingly all of you are confirmed invalids. None of you were given a choice, so none of you left any lasting impression. It is a waste of space and time as a Hunter and only fitting you should die less than one."
The weapon was summoned but it just wasn't the same. The Death lead moved forward, facing the wall, like Sam had. Lawrence could have done it in this moment. He could have, but it wouldn't have mattered as a moment later there was a blast of cold and then he felt himself being grabbed- pushed- thrown into something as the ground lurched and spun-
- And then it was just infinite, infinite white, without even a campsite anywhere. More than white it was cold. More than cold was the sharp reminder of his condition. He was a secondary character. Baneful AT THE ANTARCTIC BASE: - lawrence's fear shield is severed so he can only rely on himself. He wont last long though, but from the distance there is a camp site nearby, just a small change in colour, a tent maybe - Roll 1d10 to get there, it will take 8 steps (so 8 10-sided dice rolls). Each step is 5 feet. Lawrence has 30 HP. - At -10HP he begins to get the first signs of frostbite. - At - 20 HP his bodily functions begin to shut down. Heart rate slows, breathing is difficult. Everything grows heavy. - At - 25 he loses his vision and is blinded. The camp becomes lost from sight - At - 30 HP everything whites out. - at ten feet he finds an old worn parka. It is still usable and the body, a dark red, has cleanly half-froze over. - at fifteen feet more bodies are uncovered. They have various remains such as scarves. They seem somewhat fresh, if not also half-frozen over
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Baneful rolled 1 10-sided dice:
6
Total: 6 (1-10)
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 6:33 am
Butch was gone and it was simply a fact, the pleading and screaming cut off abruptly as he was sealed.
And then, without any further gauge of the gravity of his situation he waited, simply observing Cael until he found himself forcibly thrown into what he realised - as he hit snow so cold it was like being struck - was a portal.
He was alone and human, lacking even body fat to keep himself warm, stripped back almost to the bones by the regime of food and exercise he had been pursuing for the Sahara. And it was cold, so cold, cold in a way that was almost satisfying. He could feel it more than even the gnawing hunger, more than the void of silence left by Butch's departure. It ate at everything he was and he welcomed it, because even as it patiently killed him, it made him feel alive.
He was almost certainly going to die here, but he did not know fear.
So he walked, staggered and dragged himself through the endless white nightmare in the direction of what might have been simply a mirage and refused to give up, not because he had hope of ever making it but because he simply did not know how to despair.
HP: 24
Step: 1/8 - 5 feet
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Baneful rolled 1 10-sided dice:
5
Total: 5 (1-10)
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 6:37 am
The elements were merciless and rendered frail and human again by the loss of his weapon, every step was overwhelming effort. He was not fit, he did not have youth on his side, any logical avenue he tried to mentally pursue presented no possibility of escape.
It was starting to become difficult to think and his fingers, his toes, his ears and nose had become so cold sharp pins and needles sensations overtook even the sensation of cold. He simply looked on in his thoughts as his body began to fail like an inefficient machine.
When he stumbled across the body he hardly noticed at first until the urgent thought of a coat came to mind. It took exertion to remove it from its owner who no longer required it and the reprieve it provided from the bitter chill of where he found himself was superficial and brief. He was still going to die, simply slower.
But wasn't that what living entailed?
HP: 19
Step: 2/8 - 10 feet
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Baneful rolled 1 10-sided dice:
9
Total: 9 (1-10)
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 6:45 am
It got harder and harder to move, to drag himself towards what was likely no sanctuary at all. His progress slowed and he became aware with that same observer indifference that he was dying. Every dragged breath of the cold air was painful to his suffering lungs and bone-deep fatigue leeched every single bit of strength out of him. He found himself seeking for the memory of the warmth America represented and feeling nothing but his own cold void there to remind him.
His very thoughts were breaking down, no longer calmly focused on survival but instead spoking out onto irrational tangents. He found himself thinking of Dante's Inferno and how the first time he read it as a child he had been confused that the ninth circle of hell was ice, even Satan frozen to his chest in eternal ice. Over time and research he'd come to realise that the author had considered the ice a metaphor for the greatest punishment they could think of - isolation, separation from all that was good in the world. And he'd calmly wondered what he could have done, young as he was to warrant such a punishment set against him from the moment of his birth.
And like the ninth circle, here there were bodies, strewn and contorted, not yet frozen but soon to be. And he could no longer be sure if they were really present or if at this point they existed only in his mind.
HP: 10
Step: 3/8 - 15 feet
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Baneful rolled 1 10-sided dice:
8
Total: 8 (1-10)
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 7:10 am
And in time the white of the snow became overwhelming, until it consumed his entire world and slowly, gradually faded to grey and finally a complete all encompassing darkness. He had never really been part of the world he inhabited and being severed from it felt like neither a mercy nor a sadness. It simply was.
He should have been afraid, he knew he should have been, he had witnessed fear of death in so many other people, so many other creatures, even the bravest baulked at the idea of the unknown and part of him had held out in the hope that at the very least death itself would provide him with a taste of emotion. But still, even now there was nothing, and he could not even be disappointed.
Pain faded away, the looming frostbite faded away, hunger faded away and he was nothing more than a constellation of points of light within his own lonely galaxy, existing because it was all he had ever known how to do.
And he felt them start to go out with the slow inevitability of the endlessly decaying universe. He was divine but he was not immortal.
HP: 2
Step: 4/8 - 20 feet
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Baneful rolled 1 10-sided dice:
1
Total: 1 (1-10)
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 7:21 am
There was no last minute pleading for forgiveness, there was no regret. He did not think of his son, of his legacy, of all the things he'd always been told to believe should be the order of things when facing ones own extinction. There was nothing but a vague, hollowed out question that he had never found the answer to and the void which had been his perpetual companion.
HP: 1
Step: 5/8 - 25 feet
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Baneful rolled 1 10-sided dice:
3
Total: 3 (1-10)
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 7:24 am
All the books he enjoyed spoke of a life after death, spoke of something more, some joy for the virtuous and agony for the wicked. And he did not know, simply did not and could never know where he fell on that scale. Perhaps he wasn't human at all and had never been, he was divine, an angel trapped in a human body, a god, something other. When he died he expected to cease and nothing more because even agony would be a reward.
As everything failed, as he fell forward into the snow, registering it only in a distant, dream like way, as all sensation stumbled and stopped.
He had pretended to be religious in so many of his personas and - as the world spiralled to a slow halt, his heart straining to continue - he began to realise it was because as well as seeking for those notes of emotion, the elements of what could make him human, he sought also for an explanation for his own existence, for why a creature like him existed. If he was perfect or if he was simply some incidental necessary part of the universe, there to make the existence of others so much the brighter, a human version of the nothingness between all planets and all things.
He was not surprised he never found the answers.
There was only black, only white, only ice.
HP: 0
Step: 6/8 - 30 feet
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 7:26 pm
Static.
It was a weird noise to wake up to. The sound of something. A radio maybe. Maybe this was it and he was in the void of hell. Maybe this was something less than hell, an infinite white, static purgatory.
Words, buzzing, a hiss, more static. More and more it began to sound like something, a radio perhaps. A walkie-talkie. A whistling noise, maybe a kettle. The smell of something warmer, though there was still a prevalent cold that Lawrence could not shake. It clung to him, it stuck to every fingertip, every toe, every part of him and made him very much alive but so much less so safe. More white.
"Just git a portal down here," it was a voice but it wasn't Lawr's. "I don't wanna deal with this bullshit." A noise. Someone spitting maybe. The kettle was still whistling. "I'll do it myself then, bunch of assholes, bringing me this."
Pause. The kettle stopped whistling. Silence again for a few minutes. White. Footsteps. Someone was pulling Lawr now, he felt himself being hoisted, he felt hands around him, carrying him like a potato sack, a moment of vertigo-
- And then the biting cold again and the wind. Swearing next to him. Boots crunching against snow. More howling, and then a strange metallic hum.
Lawr fell through something, something unexplainable and jarring, something that made him feel sick with an odd vertigo as his ears threatened to explode-
- And then it was silent again and everything was white again.
He woke up again. Warmth this time, around him, though he still felt cold. This cold could not be cured, not quite yet and clung to him chilling and pervasive. Invasive. A poor replacement for a weapon. The room was silent but he could hear voices outside arguing amongst themselves. They were dropping names, but none were familiar. There was a ticking noise, the clock leaning against the wall. A creak as a door opened and then footsteps, the tinkering of glass pressing against a counter, and then footsteps hastily leaving again.
Silence. White.
That was all there was to this world. There was only white because he couldn't see. Baneful Lawr is blinded for a month! He absolutely cannot see. He also does not have his weapon. He is current in the hospital so anyone is free to visit him. He can call for help by paging/calling someone on duty (quote lizbot). Visitors are allowed. On the off event he gets his weapon early, the blindness will be lessened to two weeks. - During the first two days of recovery period speaking is still difficult as his tongue is swollen. Moving and walking is painful. After that he can slowly recover as he pleases. - Any visitors or just curious bypassers are allowed to enter at this point. At this point rumour has already spread that Lawr had a little accident.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
