Dismiss Notice
Vote for us!

Remember to vote for ZEJ at our Top RP Sites page! You can vote only once daily, so make sure to do so and help us reach the top!

【Freeform Spar】Pinnacle ~ Heavenly Duel

Discussion in 'Roleplay Archives' started by Shadow, Mar 21, 2012.

  1. Ornate structures of cold steel, polished stone and rising concrete wove harmoniously through the Dharmastian capital, the magically and technologically advanced citadel of Antica, into a chiasma of equilibrium. The surface of the wavering crystalline water reflected the heavenly canvas, painted on that particular Sigilsday as an atmospheric struggle between light and darkness, myriad hues of blues and reds streaking across the sky. Voluminous bridges with archways of stone and glowing crystals were stationed in the four cardinal directions, leading to the land surrounding Lake Memory. They converged into the base of the towering structure; fountains of the finest rock carved into statues of mythical marine creatures--the Lapriconea--stationed around an inaccessible lower level, their serpentine essence melded with the very art of their distinct poses. The entrance of the tower, a majestic opening which was, in reality, a complex of exquisite arches of stone bordered with metal entrancing the viewer--particularly any viewer--to look further into their intricate patterns.

    The Spire--a symbol of the Dharmastian power dictated by the High Council, a gargantuan tower attempting to pierce the firmament. Spanning dozens of levels, the behemoth building made entirely by man narrowed infinitesimally until reaching the apex, which was a perfectly circular summit with a diameter of approximately twenty five meters. Bordered by elaborate crenelations which were more of an aesthetic feature than anything else, the world below could be watched. From one horizon concealing the final rays of the orange sun, bathing it in its dying glory; to the opposite, the minuscule lights of Dharmastia like stars hung in the implacable void of space. The battle of light and darkness persisted in a wondrous spectacle someone watched from above all Antica.

    Her soft features were caressed by a slight passing breeze and the perishing sun alike, leaning forward and onto the edge of The Spire, crossed arms resting on the smooth stone of a singular battlement. Short strands of hair hung--a beautiful, vivid fuchsia hued amber by the setting flare--soft purple stare travelling far into the diminishing boundary between day and night. Twin innocent stars colored in a serene spectrum of white, green and cyan were tied together into a petite ponytail. Her disarming frame stood still, as she found herself staring into the horizon of civilization. An impeccable white dress which elegantly took color of the sunset was her choice of clothing for this special occasion. A fine black thread featuring a minuscule shard of amethyst hung from her neck while a bracelet displaying pearls of equally the same acquired shade of her pendant rested on her right wrist.

    Between radiance and shades, she awaited.

    At the top of the world, she awaited.

    Grazing the starry sky, she awaited.

    In the pinnacle, instants passed, for a heavenly duel was bound to occur.

    Pinnacle ~ Heavenly Duel
  2. A figure garbed entirely in a deep grey robe ascended the tower. The impossible building mounted for what seemed like forever, stretching defiantly into the skies as the sun began to make its descent below the horizon line. Bathed in the dying rays of its glowing light, the figure stepped upon the threshold of what appeared to be the apex of the satanic tower... He was disgusted at the research being conducted inside of its magnificently-adorned arching walls. So sickened by the awful, demonic research was he that he had set about to destroy whoever ran the horrible building. Determined to strike down whatever monstrosity he would meet in his path to end the production of the building.

    His ashen hair was tousled about by the quiet, atmospheric breeze. Was it possible that something so God-defying could provide such a beautiful view? His wooden mask gave him a look of haunting chill, like the flow of a sweeping autumnal gale ripping through an empty tree, clinging desperately to its last leaves. His gaze - a pair of piercing, malice-infused grey eyes - was set upon a young girl, dressed entirely in white, who was positioned at the very edge of the tower. The most deadly of creatures can also be the most beautiful… he thought, recalling his distant past. The young girl could not have been older than her late teens, with her hair tinted in such a way by the sun. The man with the mask could not help but wonder… was she the one he had sought to destroy? The blasphemous leader of the anti-faith construct upon which he stood?

    Her back is turned. My chance to strike. he thought, raising his scythe, the Witch’s Tongue from its resting place upon his back. The blade of the scythe gave off an otherworldly glow from the sun’s final rays as it sank, bidding adieu to the world it watched, and turning its duty over to the moon. The man raised his scythe, testing its weight without any merit, but more out of force of habit. He was familiar with its composition, having wielded it for so much of his life to dispose of the bodies of those who strayed from the divine path laid out for them. He could not help but smile, unnoticeably behind his mask. The girl’s presence here gave her away as someone who was not belonging.

    He pointed his scythe in the girl’s direction, channeling his Mana Cycle into its blade to cause it to glow with Fire Mana. The ethereal glow from before was now restored to its true potency; blazing with a passion similar to that of its wielder, how serious he was about purging the world to make it clean.

    …Your purpose here. What is it?” His voice guttural from misuse, he spoke, addressing the feminine creature before him with a disquieting curiosity as to her actions. It was clear that he was not prepared to listen to reason after his endless trek to the point where he stood now.

    With the stars and Gods as my witnesses, I will bring this world to salvation. Deliver it from the damnation that man so insists on placing it in. The flames of the purgatory draw nigh, young one…
  3. "Watching humanity." Eternity's silence was broken as the figure culminated its ascend to the summit of the mammoth obelisk--Mana's disturbance on the solemn, heavenly atmosphere confirming destiny had indeed chosen to remain intact. Her voice was delicate, but imprinted within a firm tone devoid of doubt, surprise or even fear. Her angelic figure turned, gaze trailing the heavens assaulted by the serene tints and shades of blue which ultimately drove back the blazing aura--leaving a frail, transparent ribbon stretching across the horizon, portraying the spectrum faintly. Dusks' majesty had reached its peak, a mere display of the beauty of the world.

    Her eyes finally settled on the man--meeting the unforgiving mask of wood. She gave a simple glance at the threatening weapon coated in crackling energy, a mere pigment of the elemental spectrum that spoke of destructive blazes. "I knew you would come, I was waiting for you." her next statement followed rather unexpectedly. She was unphased. "The shackles never lie." and as if to prove her last sentence true, she added, "Let me show you."

    Both soft purple irises blossomed in ethereal luminosity, bleeding a flowing energy taking abstract tonalities shifting and and forth from blues, violets, purples, pinks and blacks before dissipating into nothingness. Underneath his mask, the man would inevitably notice. The world for both's perception shifted in an instant into a warped array of chroma, the sky prevailing with deranged byzantium, magenta and cerise. A titanic web of chains--their overwhelming red radiance indescribable albeit entrancing--surging from the apparent nowhere and extending varying lengths before fading into the oblivion they appeared from. It seemed Phantasia--no, reality itself was entangled among the subtlety of their existence. A particular one linked both her and the scythe-wielding man, definite proof of a power beyond even the High Council's learning grasp. They were the Chains of Fate. The unearthly glow decreased in potency in an instant, leaving the double vision to be shattered back into reality.

    A phantasmal visage of a translucent, spectral limb snaked into plain sight from her back, its form hovering ominously in front of the girl. Lethal, innate weapons that could pierce through flesh, bone and metal with equal ease with the mere twitch in a vein of her brain--vectors, as they had called them. Mind's extensions of unrestricted psychokinetic power caused by drastic enhancements to humans themselves were that what gave birth to her species as a whole. She was Version 24. "We will fight now, correct?" Her expression changed just before she spoke those words. Her lips formed a gentle smile, one that did not express confidence or macabre pleasure... it was, rather, a disturbingly genuine one.

    It was about time.
  4. The girl with the violet eyes turned to him, seemingly having expected his presence. She was framed by the beauty of the shades of dusk; the blues and reds waging war in the sky to forge a brilliant violet that truly brought out the colours of her irises. She seemed to be slightly aloof, as though seeing something he was not… It unnerved the man slightly, behind his mask. His eye twitched unnoticeably, as the two locked gazes… though she would only be met with the stiff, wooden gaze of his mask. Ramiro’s grip on his scythe instinctively tightened as the girl spoke, her voice piercing the silence as she released her melodic voice into the air.

    “Watching humanity.” Was that all she had to say? Ramiro whispered a silent prayer to himself. Clearly the girl thought of herself as some sort of higher being, watching the world as some superior from her present perch on the sinful testament to some supernatural being. It sickened Ramiro, and he prayed for her repentance… after all, that was what he was here for. Expelling such a creature from the plane of existence she currently treads upon. That is what the Gods ask of me.

    Before he could move, she cut him off, speaking once more. “I knew you would come, I was waiting for you. The shackles never lie. Let me show you.” Without waiting for a response, her eyes began to glow with some otherworldly light. Ramiro cast his scythe in a vicious arc, as though attempting to ward off the evils she was casting. With his free hand, he touched his left shoulder, right shoulder, forehead, and breastbone in sequence; a sort of ward to stop the madness. Gone was the beauty of the sky. The view from the heavens to the horrid grounds below. Everything had disappeared, only to be replaced by the chains that the girl had been talking about. The particular link that attached him to the girl who stood at his opposite unnerved him the most. “What… is this witchcraft?!” Ramiro howled in a fit of rage, slashing vertically - powerfully - downwards to sever the bond between the two of them… only for the vision to disappear. The Witch’s Tongue hit only the floor, reverberating with a powerful echo throughout the summit of the gargantuan construct.

    To further the madness of the moment, a single limb extended itself from behind the girl. She could only be possessed by a demon, and for that, she had to be purged from the world. “I do not know what you are, but this will be beyond a fight. This is your repentance, demon.” The spite in his voice practically dripped with an acid that would melt flesh. It was clear that the time was beyond fighting. The girl could not be saved - she was host to a demon. Words could not summarize any sort of emotion in the eyes of Ramiro - they were as hollow as the mask he wore to cover his face. The piercing gaze was met with the smile of his newfound opponent. No further words of contempt would pass through his lips - no, for the time had far passed.

    With no warning whatsoever, Ramiro charged forward, scythe once more in his full control. The blade had drawn sparks upon contact with the floor, and was now once more ignited in a passionate blaze. Fueled by the desire to purge the world and appease the Gods, Ramiro approached with a speed that only a lunatic could possess, prepared to dodge at any sign of motion from the phantasmal limb that outstretched in warning to not approach… but defy the demon is exactly what Ramiro did. “Hraaaagh!” he screamed; voice ricocheting from the floor, to the wall, and outwards. He slashed downwards, narrowly passing the limb, with sparks flying off of it. The Fire Mana that was created could burn away the girl’s flesh, revealing whatever demons lay half-dormant within her, with Ramiro purging her, freeing her from the shackles that connected her to the world, as Ramiro had just witnessed. Few thoughts were going through the man’s head, aside from destroying the girl, and how best to react to her own reactions…
  5. Amethyst orbs' dilation in response to the figure's sudden acceleration would be the only immediate reaction from Version 24 the assailant could notice. Her figure remained standing serenely still, her pose unwavering, devoid of fear or hesitation. The sole vector shuddered as if in anticipation, its form sharpening accurately, giving the entire tangible arm a vicious multidirectional edge. Her smile was quickly erased from her expression, completely replaced by a look of focused determination. It appeared the ghostly blade would be the definite counteracting measure. The flaw in her timing was notorious--as whatever she would launch in retaliation could be easily avoided, parried or countered. It did not move. A blur of motion shot from a completely blind angle: a second spectral extension, jagged edges throughout its extending shape describing malicious claws that would shred skin, tear muscle and crush bone with monstrous ease.

    The Witch Hunter, with his momentum, with his optical focus on the young Diclonius, would not see it. The vector's release was inwards, as the transparent appendage surged straight from her chest, aiming for her assailant's. The immediate maneuver was not just highly probable to be fatal, but it would inexorably halt his movement, as well as whatever strike he would be performing. She knew, however, what she would see would only be a fraction of reality. As acute as her sight was, the Diclonius knew better than to rely on her standard senses as they were easy to fool and deceive. The faint residual energy leaking from her eyes flared up instantaneously but very briefly before returning to their previous state.

    Aurora listened to her mind's eye.

Share This Page