The Babel Pact (The Lost Souls)

OoC: This is the premier of the Lost Souls BA group. Please, try to keep it classy. You've been chosen because you've proven that you're all exceptional battlers, don't make me regret accepting you.

On a lighter note, this is going to be fun. Feel free to read this if you're not in the Lost Souls, but please, try to refrain from posting here (Thank you Tiroth for that line which I so eloquently stole)

You don't need to link to your characters, as by being in the group we know who you are-- unless you get a new character approved.


For me, Tacheon shall be in lime green...
Whereas Vylanos is in crimson.



BiC: The mountain of Verum Incorporeas rose majestically into the atmosphere, vanishing long before its peak. The citizens of the neighboring towns had a custom, it was said, that when a young man came of age he would climb the mountain 'til it touched the sky and take a piece of cloud for himself, back to his family. Recently, however, such activities have ceased, regardless of whether or not they were true in the first place. The elders of the villages assembled together and decided that it would be best for the youth of the country to not make a ruckus about what they would've seen, had they gazed toward the boundaries of the land. A plague was spreading.

Tacheon now struggled for oxygen himself as he labored up the steep side of Verum Incorporeas. He needed a better view of the same pestilence that was now invading the countryside. From where he was, he could see the blackness sitting, waiting, forming a perfect circle a hundred miles in diameter. When he finally reached the apogee, being forced to endure blistering cold and pain, he came upon a grassy knoll, with an pool of strangely-hued water. When he walked up to it, hoping to nab a quick drink, it displayed images of many other people scaling the same mountain as him. Some were clothed in average garb, some looked outlandish, and some didn't look human in the slightest.

Without warning, the pool started showing images of the blackness-- not a darkness or an emptiness, but rather simply a total lack of life. It showed a small lamb, lost from its mother, straying across the line. The moment that it crossed over, it too lost all color, and died. The vast number of things on the other side of the death astounded Tacheon. He was about to reach out to the pool, to touch it and discover what its substance was, when he heard a the crumbling of rock. Someone else had come to join him.

The thin air was hard to breathe, the frozen mists were bitingly cold, but the panoramic view was spectacular. Here on the high peak the entire world could be seen, or so it appeared. A drably garbed young man stood at the top of the mountain, his face and head covered as protection from the frostbiting air. He was holding himself up on his sword, a wavy green blade, and he took a quick look at the horizon; knowing full well that if he stayed up here any longer he risked falling unconscious from lack of oxygen.

The horizon was hidden behind a wall of thick blackness. The otherwise endless white plains were cut off by the invasive and unnatural dark barrier, which loomed over the world and cast a shadow of impending doom down upon it. Having that final glance, Kartaikian Syriax pulled his sword out of the rocks and slid down a slope. He quickly leapt down a few small ledges, until he reached a rather high cliff. He'd already painstakingly climbed the cliff earlier, and tied a long rope up to the top for ease of descent.

On his way down his footing slipped on a loose outcropping, sending down a few small stones. When his feet touched solid ground, he heard a noise behind him; that of a sword being drawn. Quick to react, Kartaikian drew his own weapon and spun around; ready to meet blades with whomever it was, if need be.

Halfway up a mountain in the midst of a tempestous storm, Nathan Overheart thumped onto the ground and moaned. The boy looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of the mountain’s heavenly peak, but clouds blocked his view. They were vast, dark clouds that blocked out all light and stalked around the sky like a deadly poison. The mountain itself was steep, slick with ice and half-crystallized precipitation. Nate took his time standing up again, wary that a wrong move could send him rolling down the massive structure. The boy hugged his arm around his chest, pulling his waistcoat closer. “Why did I even come here?” he moaned to the skies. “It’s cold and wet, and there’s no one at all!” The explorer tightened the laces on his shoes before resuming his treacherous trudge up the massive icicle.

Breathe. Shiver. Keep walking.

It got even colder as the boy’s climb drew to a close. The peak remained constantly above his reach, like the sinister clouds ascended to aggravate him. Nathan closed his eyes and jammed his hands over his ears, a brief respite from the bullets of frigid snow crashing into him. His legs were blue, covered in goose-bumps. "Why didn’t I think to wear shorts?” he coughed in self-hatred.

The peak was like heaven. Or hell? The ends of the earth sprawled out in front of Nathan as he finally reached the summit. He thrust his hands in the air with fulfilled ecstasy. “I’m king of the world!” The boy laughed at himself as he absorbed the panorama; bliss, wonder, amazement. His echo was crisp and perfectly clear as it bounced off the edge of the world. Nate drew an appeased smirk and started his descent down the mountain.

*

The tracks were crystal clear in the eerie calm after the snowstorm. One set of footprints, crunched deeply into the earth. Nate forced himself to stay calm and continued walking down the mountain, almost forgetting the biting cold in his anxiety. “You’re safe,” he whispered in his mind. “It’s just a villager or something.” The grim frown on Nathan’s face didn’t cease as he gradually slithered down the mountain. There was someone – something? Impossible; the tracks were humanoid – on the mountain. The breath in his lungs tightened as he followed the tracks further and further down the mountain. Finally, they stopped. Nathan gazed up from the snow prints to their owner: it was a boy, scarcely older than Nathan (though several inches taller). He was fully wreathed in warm grey clothes, though Nate doubted that he was actually warm. His hair was the same colour as his drawl outfit; it didn't compliment the attire, but rather meshed together awkwardly. The man hadn’t noticed Nate – he thanked heavens for that. Side-stepping slowly, surreptitiously, Nathan unsheathed his sword. His pistol would be a surprise.

OoC: Treacherous trudge. Heavens, I'm brilliant xD.

The sharp bite of harsh winds assaulted what little exposed flesh there was, chilling the woman to the core. Regularly primrose lips were tinged purple, making the already cream complexion appear as pale as the snow white littered the surrounding scenery and the deep forest velvet of her cloak. A steady wind pushed at the figure’s side, as if it were trying to cement the woman in place against the immense stone. Thin strands of golden curls, unwilling to lay complacent underneath the deep hood, danced in the mountain’s fury, crossing the vision of the twin amethyst oculars frequently and clinging to the bare bits of moisture that resided upon the plush flesh of her mouth. Behind her, the land was coated in a black deeper than death’s sockets.

Vana moved with feline grace, ascending the mountain with ease, her nimble feet picking out the nearly nonexistent paths, the thick calfskin of her boots hardly making a mark upon the often-thick snow. Her heavy cloak however, left a clear trail, its bottom dragging wetly against the terrain, catching occasionally before sliding onward smoothly with only the slightest of songs. The Coquette had been forced to wear a shorter than usual dress for this expedition, the usually thin silk as well had been replaced by thick emerald cashmere, a few shades lighter than the velvet cloak. But still, the dress could not provide the warmth that the cloak provided, as the velvet was supremely plush and thick, but slightly too long. The garment had been made according to the measurements taken when the woman was wearing her customary heels, thus, as Vana had donned more climate appropriate footwear, it was much too long, moisture climbing up the cloth and freezing. It was becoming increasingly heavy…

Out of nowhere, a man materialized a couple yards ahead, his frame barely observable in the aim air. He steadily plodded forth through the snow, following the same set of footprints the Coquette has also been tracking. She did not wish to sneak up upon him, so she stayed her distance. Eventually, the man unsheathed a sword, instinctively resulting in the drawing of the woman’s fan, albeit it was still closed, the dark oiled wooden slats hidden within the folds of the thick forest colored cloak. He has stopped, and was now peering downward, assumedly at the one whom they both had been following.

“Please resheathe your blade good sir,” Vana requested, calmly padding forward, her serenely beautiful face barely visible from under the deep hood. “There is no need of it, I do not believe this man wishes you ill.”

OOC: Sorry that took a bit, I was terribly sick.

Tacheon slowly slid Elanore from her sheath, letting her graze the ground a little as he stood, still staring at the pool of strange water, waiting for whomever it was behind him to present themselves. No movement on either part was made for quite some time. The wind didn't touch Tacheon up on this summit for some reason, and the grass beneath his feet was unnerving compared to the wintry chill without. When he did finally turn around, he was faced with a conundrum. Rather than there being one stranger to confront, there were three. After a few moments of deductive reasoning, though, he realized that there was only one viable target.

The person located immediately behind the one closest to Tacheon was focusing intently on not Tacheon, but the person Tacheon was nearest, and the person behind them was caught up in person two's affairs. Therefore, the only reasonable person to engage, if any, was the one with whom he was nearest. Of course, he thought afterwards. I suppose it's only logical to deal with the nearest threat anyhow.

"You in the gray," demanded Tacheon, trying his best to seem imposing, "who are you? Show yourself or fight me."

The blade that the man in gray drew had a faint green resonance to it, and for a moment Tacheon could've sworn that he knew him from somewhere. But then the moment passed as any other.

When Kartaikian spun around, sword drawn, to face the stranger, he was somewhat surprised to see not one, but three strangers. The youngest and shortest of them, a teenage boy, had a sword drawn and ready. Standing behind him was a female, who did not appear to be holding a weapon. The oldest and tallest of the three, standing closest to Kartaikian at the moment, was a black haired man in dark colored garb. He was wielding a drawn katana, and addressed Kartaikian in an imposing voice.

Psychizo lit up as Kartaikian searched the souls of the three people around him, checking to see if they were peaceful or hostile, and if they possessed any special capabilities. None of the three seemed especially hostile at the moment, but he noted that the black haired man seemed to be the most impetuous of them. He also noted that the younger one had some minor electric magic capability, and the older one possessed some sort of unusual and unidentifiable energy manipulation ability.

"You can call me Stormcloud," Kartaikian said, answering the man, and turning his now-dimmed sword downward to signify peace. "What may I call you, and why are you here?" Kartaikian asked all three strangers.

OoC: Tacheon should delete his ugly massive post >:3

IC:

Nathan made a mental note that the man garbed in grey was civil, something he couldn’t say about the other two people yet. The boy followed suit and lowered his weapon. “I’m Nathan,” he commanded, fighting the quaking in his frozen sandals. “Nathan Overheart. I don’t mean any harm to anyone here, but I’m prepared to defend myself.”

He caught a snort from one of the people. He took a moment to inspect them while the others looked about themselves. The one furthest away he didn’t trust for a second. There was something mischievous about him. The second amazed Nathan again by his drawl outlook and attire. The boy turned to face the last person on the mountain, his eyes nearly popping out of his sockets. The explorer tried to regain composure and resumed talking.

“I think that, since the three of us have introduced ourselves, it’s only natural that you do so too.” The explorer embraced the woman with a sly smile, wary of the fact that she was taller than him. She didn’t talk for a moment, giving Nathan a chance to dart between her slim figure, petite frame, and unassuming curls. She had a sincere face, but Nate didn’t trust her yet. He suspected a vixen, but he couldn’t say he cared much. There was something so appealing, attractive, seductive about the girl. He couldn’t wait for her to speak.

The chill wind sent unseen shivers through the core of the normally resolute woman, the movements unnoticeable under such thick layers of clothing. Evolution had not blessed the Coquette species with a very high core temperature, perhaps because they had adapted in a rather warm and unchanging atmosphere, the tiny Island of Dajin Dao off the coast of Hong Kong, where winter never really seemed to reach. Her controlled breath eked from her lips in even tufts of white, the normally silk clad woman looking very much the part of some British Princess, and nothing like the Spanish and Asian heritage that mostly dominated her blood that was flaunted with her usual fashion.

Her amethyst oculars sized up the first to introduce himselve, some otherworldly being she could surmise from the tone of his voice, his drab grey attire making him appear formless. Something about him spiked her more instincts, having to consciously make the effort to keep a straight face and not a snarl. Yet, he felt vaguely familiar to her, like they had met somewhere before, long ago. The boy that went after, exuded the resilient cockiness of youth, his childlike face could perhaps be handsome in five years time, if he was lucky. But his reaction toward the Lady Huine pleased her greatly, knowing that the perpetual charm she held over males, and utilized to its fullest extent, worked even in such cold.

“I am the Lady Vana Huine of the Coquette and the Alliance of the Tasogare,” she said dryly, not seeing the need to act the part of seductive to these men, at least until she knew the situation here. Her lips moved mechanically and achingly in the cold, their normally primrose color was tinged lightly purple around the edges.

OoC: My my my, now that we've all had a lovely break from this, maybe now we'll all get some wonderfully inventive ideas.

"You can call me Stormcloud," said the gray man, obviously addressing Tacheon. "What may I call you, and why are you here?" This question was more towards all of them, rather than one in particular. The others introduced themselves in turn.

"Well then!" Tacheon said warmly, convinced that none was more treacherous than the next. "There's no need to stay there in the colder parts of the mountain. I'm not quite sure why, but where I'm standing it's quite pleasant." The others eyed him with a suspicious concern which he wholeheartedly understood-- trusting no one under any circumstances is what has kept Tacheon alive all these years. Behind him, the water shimmered again, this time turning clear and unnervingly normal. It was as though it had sensed that the others would eventually approach, and didn't want to make itself more unusual than it already was.

Although the travelers' weapons were lower than before, Tacheon could not help but notice that none were restored to their original resting places. He knelt down and felt around for familiar elements, and was exceptionally happy to find that the elemental structure of the ground here was nearly identical to the one on Tiberius, his homeworld. Without another word, he pulled from the earth four chairs, made from hardened soil and completely plain-looking, and maneuvered them such that they were all equidistant both from each other and the water, and circled them around the pool. He plopped down into one, instantly relaxing but at the same time keeping a wary hand on his blade. He invited the others to do so as well.

After a brief, yet thorough, consideration, Kartaikian sheathed his viridescent blade and seated himself in the earthen chair directly across from the dark haired man. He made a quick mental note about the man's apparent earth-crafting magic, and its possible applications in battle.

From his seat, Stormcloud took a casual glance at the pool of water, finding something about it altogether unusual. He would have to take some time later to study it closer, but currently he was quite occupied with these three strangers.

The two unseated strangers were still considering the older one's proposition to sit, neither one wanting to let down their guard before the other. Kartaikian turned again his attention to the seated man. He seemed relaxed, but Kartaikian didn't fail to notice his the way he kept his hand on his sword. In the same way, Stormcloud let not his hand stray far from his own weapon either.

Finally, Kartaikian decided to speak up. "I do not believe you have yet mentioned your name, sir," he stated idly.