Post by Deleted on Jan 6, 2017 16:51:04 GMT
Present Day:
“Stay here please. We are preparing the ritual to give you the power.” The dry rasp of the Kashvar wizard intruded on Darc’s peculiar mix of grief and determination, causing the warrior to lift his head, boring holes into the red alien’s eyes with his own. He said nothing, but the dark orbs lying behind his matted green hair explained his resignation, if the idiotic alien had but a wit of intuition. The Kashvar huffed, its ego feeling the bruise of Darc’s silence, “Or don’t thank us for this amazing opportunity, we are only rising you from the dirt to the very faults of heaven.” Disgusted, the red alien stormed out of the tent.
Finally alone, Darc spread his large form into an almost meditative pose, giving himself to the ability his teacher had taught him, ki sense. He could feel the slight ki of the Kashvar wizards chanting in their antiquated rituals which would give him the power to kill Plato. It had been his one goal since the day that he had found his friends and family dead or missing, to murder the monster that had annihilated multiple cities in his quest to vanquish the Kashvar. What made his situation worse was the fact that his master had vanished shortly afterward, and throughout Darc’s months of searching, he had not found a single trace of Garliad. Darc had even gone so far to enter several martial arts tournaments which were Garliad’s normal recruiting grounds, yet there was absolutely no trace. He had concluded that Plato had probably also killed Garliad, but for some reason beyond Darc’s comprehension he kept scouring the world for…something.
Cutting short his trip down memory lane, Darc stood as several energies began to approach the tent where he sat. He shook his head, putting aside his grief and rage from Plato’s genocide, the Kashvar were really, REALLY annoying sometimes. The small procession halted at the flap of the tent, chanting in some obscure dialect long lost to all but Kashvar. The leader of the group, at least, spoke to Darc in a recognizable language, simply saying, “Follow us.” Without waiting for a response, the leader turned on his heel, moving towards the center of the complex. Does it really have to be this complex? I’m starting to think this is simply becoming scare tactics. Still muttering, the Konatsian followed his ‘saviors’ towards the ritual site, slightly apprehensive about what was to come. The Kashvar weren’t exactly renowned for their benevolent means of granting power!
This thought was grimly repeated as Darc lay chained in the middle of the ‘ritual ground’ which consisted of multiple circles of runes encapsuling each other. The chanting of the Kashvar seemed to be strangely amplified by the flashes of energy that Darc could only detect for brief moments. The air grew heavy, pressing down hard on the warrior like the weights that he had worn during his tutelage. All of the sudden, everything changed.
Pain beyond imagining erupted near Darc’s navel, nearly driving him into unconsciousness as the initial messages arrived at his brain. Darc screamed in utter agony, instinctually trying to muster enough ki to bowel the warlocks clean over. Yet when he tried, no ki was present and his unrelenting agony ascended to new plateaus! Writhing on the ground like a stuck pig, Darc dimly heard the chanting picking up a beat, and began to feel the weight on him increase dramatically. Dark wisps of energy funneled into his thrashing form, opening his mind to the power of the beast!
Hours Later:
Swimming back toward the surface of consciousness, Darc groaned, slowly lifting himself to his feet. “I asked for….a power up….not a session with a torturer godammit. Ugh.” He crumpled to the ground yet again, his muscles utterly refusing to take their previous burden. “It seems the procedure worked! You are now the host of one of the most powerful beasts we have ever been able to summon.” The wizard cackled, only to be launched into the rock wall by Darc’s empowered fist. “WHAT DID YOU SAY!” His voice broke, still damaged from his continual screaming. “I AM NOT A MONSTER. I AM NOT SOME PUPPET OR AGENT OF GENOCIDE.” Letting out a roar, Darc slammed his fist into the ground, lashing out with his ki. It took the form of a mass of fire that devastated the small gathering of Kashvar, turning the large complex of tents into a burning wasteland. In the center of this power, Darc was in the fetal position, rocking himself back in forth in his horror.
“Stay here please. We are preparing the ritual to give you the power.” The dry rasp of the Kashvar wizard intruded on Darc’s peculiar mix of grief and determination, causing the warrior to lift his head, boring holes into the red alien’s eyes with his own. He said nothing, but the dark orbs lying behind his matted green hair explained his resignation, if the idiotic alien had but a wit of intuition. The Kashvar huffed, its ego feeling the bruise of Darc’s silence, “Or don’t thank us for this amazing opportunity, we are only rising you from the dirt to the very faults of heaven.” Disgusted, the red alien stormed out of the tent.
Finally alone, Darc spread his large form into an almost meditative pose, giving himself to the ability his teacher had taught him, ki sense. He could feel the slight ki of the Kashvar wizards chanting in their antiquated rituals which would give him the power to kill Plato. It had been his one goal since the day that he had found his friends and family dead or missing, to murder the monster that had annihilated multiple cities in his quest to vanquish the Kashvar. What made his situation worse was the fact that his master had vanished shortly afterward, and throughout Darc’s months of searching, he had not found a single trace of Garliad. Darc had even gone so far to enter several martial arts tournaments which were Garliad’s normal recruiting grounds, yet there was absolutely no trace. He had concluded that Plato had probably also killed Garliad, but for some reason beyond Darc’s comprehension he kept scouring the world for…something.
Cutting short his trip down memory lane, Darc stood as several energies began to approach the tent where he sat. He shook his head, putting aside his grief and rage from Plato’s genocide, the Kashvar were really, REALLY annoying sometimes. The small procession halted at the flap of the tent, chanting in some obscure dialect long lost to all but Kashvar. The leader of the group, at least, spoke to Darc in a recognizable language, simply saying, “Follow us.” Without waiting for a response, the leader turned on his heel, moving towards the center of the complex. Does it really have to be this complex? I’m starting to think this is simply becoming scare tactics. Still muttering, the Konatsian followed his ‘saviors’ towards the ritual site, slightly apprehensive about what was to come. The Kashvar weren’t exactly renowned for their benevolent means of granting power!
This thought was grimly repeated as Darc lay chained in the middle of the ‘ritual ground’ which consisted of multiple circles of runes encapsuling each other. The chanting of the Kashvar seemed to be strangely amplified by the flashes of energy that Darc could only detect for brief moments. The air grew heavy, pressing down hard on the warrior like the weights that he had worn during his tutelage. All of the sudden, everything changed.
Pain beyond imagining erupted near Darc’s navel, nearly driving him into unconsciousness as the initial messages arrived at his brain. Darc screamed in utter agony, instinctually trying to muster enough ki to bowel the warlocks clean over. Yet when he tried, no ki was present and his unrelenting agony ascended to new plateaus! Writhing on the ground like a stuck pig, Darc dimly heard the chanting picking up a beat, and began to feel the weight on him increase dramatically. Dark wisps of energy funneled into his thrashing form, opening his mind to the power of the beast!
Hours Later:
Swimming back toward the surface of consciousness, Darc groaned, slowly lifting himself to his feet. “I asked for….a power up….not a session with a torturer godammit. Ugh.” He crumpled to the ground yet again, his muscles utterly refusing to take their previous burden. “It seems the procedure worked! You are now the host of one of the most powerful beasts we have ever been able to summon.” The wizard cackled, only to be launched into the rock wall by Darc’s empowered fist. “WHAT DID YOU SAY!” His voice broke, still damaged from his continual screaming. “I AM NOT A MONSTER. I AM NOT SOME PUPPET OR AGENT OF GENOCIDE.” Letting out a roar, Darc slammed his fist into the ground, lashing out with his ki. It took the form of a mass of fire that devastated the small gathering of Kashvar, turning the large complex of tents into a burning wasteland. In the center of this power, Darc was in the fetal position, rocking himself back in forth in his horror.