In fire there is the spark of chaos and destruction, the seed of life. In ice there is perfect tranquility, perfect order, and the silence of death. Such is the opposition between the two that where one prevails, the other cannot endure. Which explains why the fragment of chaos, who was primarily a fire user, had trouble coping with the snowstorm that battered him and his companions.
Had it been possible to see through the thousands of flakes of frozen water, the group of people that trekked along through the snowdrifts would have seemed very odd indeed. Four of them there were, which would not have been odd in and of itself except that they were all identical...well, almost identical.
The observer who could see through the blizzard would have seen one with red hair and eyes carrying a large greatsword on his back, one with orange features idly twirling a pair of heavy metal weights connected by a piece of chain, which he referred to as a "meteor hammer", one with very light blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a pair of small swords, and finally one with a light purple colour scheme that some would call magenta, and a truly massive sword slung across his shoulder. But they all shared the same appearance in every other respect; height, facial configuration, even their clothing was identical, albeit coloured very subtly in each case. So it's probably a good thing the casual observer couldn't see what was going on, because there would most certainly have been some explaining to do.
The four of them were plowing a path through the snow, enclosed in a fiery bubble of sorts that warded off the encroaching blizzard and helped to melt the masses of compacted ice that stood in their way. The orange man was standing at the front of the little party, spinning his meteor hammer in front of him at high speeds. The heat he channeled through it melted the snow in front of them far better than their heat shield ever could, though it was curious to note that they seemed to be going in completely random directions. But when your group is led by a being of pure chaos, what else could you really expect?
Of course, no-one else noticed this as their meager path was covered up again within a matter of minutes. Besides which if they had noticed they were going round in...not circles, but a sort of squiggly, random pattern...well, if they'd noticed that they were going around in whatever shape they were going around in, there wouldn't have been much they could have done anyway. So the red fragment helped push aside the snow with his huge weapon, which was also imbued with fire, while Magenta, who represented strength, simply bashed at any snowdrifts he came across. As they progressed, Orange could feel his strength waning as the freezing cold wind and snow assaulted them from all sides.
After several hours of blundering and bickering from the quite literal voices inside White's head, the quartet came across what at first appeared to be snow, but resisted any attempts to melt it. When Magenta swung his weapon at it and took a small chip out of it, one of the fragments within White's mind suddenly projected it's voice into the outside world to point out what was going on.
"Nice work there...it's quite obviously stone of some sort. From the sounds of it, some sort of marble...and it appears to be a bridge. Well whatever it is, it's an obvious indicator of something man-made, so I suggest we investigate further."
Suddenly picking up at the thought of a break from all this boring, almost orderly snow, the orange fragment dashed straight across the bridge and through the massive doorway that was on the other side of it, zigzagging this way and that as he ran. Eager for a reprieve, the others quickly followed. Once they had crossed the threshold, White saw a pair of what must have been children, one barely conscious and the other not even that. Upon seeing this sight, another of White's voices, Yellow, asked desperately to be released in order to heal the two.
Yellow's requests, Orange's cries of delight at being out of the cold, and the man who White assumed was the owner of the mansion standing there looking at all of them, were all too much for White to handle after the total quiet of the snowstorm. Placing one hand on either side of his head, he let Yellow out to shut him up and sank to the floor, screwing his eyes up in an attempt to block out the outside world, if only for a few seconds.
OoC : Now, if this was a who's who, would I be here?
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