An Angel's Aria

[Ciroton]

OoC: Before I begin, I would like to say this is my longest introductory post ever. Go me! Secondly, there is no posting order. However, if this RP has gone more then three (3) weeks without a post, and you did not post last, consider that as your turn, no matter who you are. (I want to keep this moving. ^_^) With out further delay, I bring you An Angel's Aria.

BiC:
Stars blanketed the sky over head, their celestial beauty captivating the eye of many people on the cold, dark Earth below. Generations of humans, Demons, and all other races looked to the stars to find themselves, and their true potential. However, on this night in particular, a more devious plot was underway somewhere beneath the heavenly gaze of the eternal lights. One that would affect many lives, leaving both sorrow and joy in its wake.

Far under the earth, in a place long forgotten, many hands were at work. Scrambling to complete the job before the sunrise, a few of them dropped pieces of the infrastructure they were constructing. A massive drill stood at the end of a long cave, stalactites dripping water on the hard, durable tool. One of the men stood out like a sore thumb. This man, dressed in a black, pinstripe suit, had to be the leader of this effort.

“Come on, come on, move it people!” The man shouted, clapping his hands as though to spur them on to move faster. “We’re so close to our goal, all that stands in our way is this damned door!”

In front of the head of the drill sat a massive, blue-stoned door. For weeks this obstacle gleamed at the wealthy man, antagonizing him as though he could never break through. The ancient runes embedded in the petrified rock made the rock immune to picks, axes, and even the newest form of dynamite. Nothing they tried before even scratched the surface of this near-impenetrable rock.

“This has to work,” whispered the aging man to himself.

Surveying the drill from front to back, the man marveled at the genius of his scientists. The massive drill bit was powered by the latest in steam-engine technology, its gargantuan-sized boiler looked like the façade of a giant demon to anyone less aware. Everything about it had to be huge so it could crush the agonizing rock in its path.

“Sir!” Yelled a young man as he raced towards the leader. “Sir! It’s ready, It’s finally ready!”

“Really? Well then, what are you waiting for!? Start the machine!”

Inside the drill, large pistons began to move as steam forced itself in and out of the pumps. The drill shaft slowly spun, gaining momentum as the pressure kept building. A whirling sound emanated for the interior of the machine as the giant metal drill bit picked up speed. With enough momentum, the entire machine slowly rolled forward, right into the stone slab.

Bits of tiny, razor-sharp rock went flying in all directions as the drill bit made contact with the bluish rock. The friction between the two materials caused steam to rise from the slowly widening hole at the tip of the machine. Many of the youths that toiled to build this leviathan cheered as the fruits of their labour marched through the stone.

After fifty years, the aging man would finally rest his eyes upon the object he had chased for most of his life. Years of obsession would be over in mere minutes as the strong drill continues to press its way into the seemingly impassable barrier that separated him form it. Licking his lips and twiddling his thumbs, many of the nearby spectators could not help but notice this strange change in behavior.

Satisfied with the size of the hole, the man ordered the drill to stop. The workers scrambled once more, this time, to bring the mighty machine to a halt. Slamming to a stop, the pistons caused an incredible sound that deafened those who did not wear ear protection. With all the speed of a snail, the complex wonder backed away from the hole to allow people to enter.

A wide grin spread itself across the man’s face as he treaded in the mud in his good, black dress shoes. He carefully squeezed past some of the remaining scaffolding, not wanting to dirty his suit. Sprinting the last dozen yards to the hole, his heart beat faster in his chest. Putting his hand in front of the hole, a soft, golden light projected itself onto his hand. It had to be here.

Taking a deep breath, the aging man stepped beyond the threshold, and into the room he worked so hard to enter. Upon seeing the interior of the room beyond, his eyes began to tear at the beauty of it all. The room was titanic; to say the least, an entire village could fit comfortably within its confines. Ruins of many small buildings in the room suggested that someone did just that, however, realized it was a bad idea and left in a hurry.

Navigating the ruins of the abandoned village, the well-dressed man stared at a massive pillar that bore the source of the light in this room. The path he took from the hole to the base of the pillar was linear, given the fact that he could step over most of the incomplete and decaying walls. All throughout this trek, he kept his eyes glued on the source of the light, as though his life depended on it.

Finally making it to the pillar, the man saw the base of the stairs that wound their way up the side of the structure. Losing all patience, the aging man quickened his pace to that of a very quick walk, anxious to make it to the top of the stairs as soon as he could. It felt to him as though his entire life were leading up to this moment, the moment he touched a relic of the gods.

“At last,” he said as he rounded the final bend, finally seeing his goal. “The Orb of Gabriel”

Resting on a stone pedestal in the middle of the circular platform sat a ball was white as snow. All the light in the room seemed to seep from this gentle ball of holy energy, illuminating all the corners so shadow could not exist where it rested. The fears of everyone who looked upon it melted away into nothingness, leaving only a warm, tingling sensation where it once was.

He walked up closer to it, etching every detail of this moment into his memory. At last, he could attain his goals; at last, he could have revenge. However, as these thoughts entered his mind, the ground began to shake. A ring of stone surrounded the orb, eclipsing its warmth-giving light behind the cold, emotionless face.

The wall reached for the ceiling above, as though trying to touch the heavens. Tilting forward slightly, it bore the unmistakable appearance of a cannon. “No!” Exclaimed the aging man when he too noticed the barrel shape of the wall. The rushing sound of a great power build up sounded throughout the room as the cannon charged, intent on firing its contents to safety. A hole in the roof opened to the heavens above as the charging stopped, the man on his knees, begging the gods to stop this cruel joke.

However, his pleas were lost to the roar of the rushing energy. Shortly after, the sound stopped, the cannon fired, blinding and deafening anyone in the room temporarily. The orb, unaffected by the force of the explosion, flew out the muzzle and out the open hole. As it passed over their heads, many people confused the holy relic for a low-flying comet as it streaked across the bliss of the night sky.

*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*

Far away, in the distant reaches of the Signaman Valley lay the humble little village of Chestnut Hallow. Sitting on the porch of his house, the young mage known as Arin Bryant looked up toward the stars. Only hours before, he came striding in to his hometown after nearly ten years at school and traveling abroad. Naturally, many things changed since his absence. For instance, many of the children he grew up with moved to the city, seeking a better living.

None of this mattered to him though; he never liked his peers anyway. “Maybe coming back was a mistake,” thought the mage aloud. “Everything is too different, and no one really likes me here anyway.”

Beginning to feel sorry for himself, the young mage got up from the chair he spent the better part of the night seated on. He leaned on the porch railing as the cool night wind blew through his messy hair. Gas powered lights shined on the street in front of the house, as though laughing at the mage. He gave them a spiteful look, with technology slowly rendering magic obsolete one could hardly blame him.

Devoid of finding any comfort in the sight of his childhood home, or the heavens above, Arin decided to retreat back into the warm embrace of his home. However, just as he was about to turn the knob on the door, a blinding light flew overhead, casting a noontime glare on the brass knob. Squinting his eyes, the mage wheeled on the spot to see a massive ball of light collide with the top of the nearest mountain.

The impact of the archangel’s orb resounded for miles around, catching the attention of nearly every traveler, and ordinary person. In Chestnut Hallow, the shock wave shattered windows, and even the bulbs of the new streetlights. In fact, everything made of glass within a seven-mile radius shattered or cracked, minus the Crystal Staff of Llyeta.

When the blinding light stopped shining, and his hears stopped ringing, the mage in the multi-coloured robes opened his eyes and surveyed the scene. His mouth hung agape when he saw that the meteorite, or so he though at the time, sheered the last ten feet off the mountain. It was only then that he remembered his former magic teachers lived up there. Concerned for their well being, Arin ran toward the mountain, not knowing they abandoned their mountainous home years ago.

OoC: Okay, no more reserving. The five people listed in the brackets are the ones in this Role Play. However, If anyone of them decides to drop it, then that place is up fro grabs. Until that time, please, no reserving. Thank you. ^_^

[Euphoria]

*Reserves a spot*

This is... giant. I wouldn't want a terrible first post so give me some time to get rid of my headache, okay? I'll get to this as soon as I can with a character that has yet to be decided.

EDIT - Gasp. I am playing with Role-Play giants. *Dies*

[Hopeless Romantic]

You know I'm in here. OR ELSE!

*will write something soon*

[Awkin]

I'll be using Jhans. It's really a pleasure to work with so many established people and Sweet Simplicity, who I've been meaning to get for a while, but never got round to.

So anyway...

(Ic)

It was, by general consensus, too early in the morning for this kind of thing.

Jhans tore down the mountainside -- gripped in a desperate, insane desire to survive that makes you grin wide like a maniac. He had been dozing in the midday heat, idly glancing up at the mountain's peak when part of it buffeted outwards. It looked like it was moving so slowly all that way off, as the peak toppled, but now he knew it as moving all too fast. He slips on the rocky scree of the mountainside, knowing that he couldn't stop if he wanted to. One piece of ground is indistinguishable from the next and his world is a mad, panting blur.

He slips on a slab of grey stone and rolls ungracefully, landing on his shoulderblade and feeling the force take him over thrice before he could find any footing again. Legs slipping like a mutt on smooth ice, he continues. As he gallops onwards, his shoulder clips the bark of a tree-- his forepaw tears through a clump of plant, he doesn't care or notice what kind. Behind him comes the sound of a roaring surge -- immense, consuming. The sound of rock upon rock upon rock all moving very very fast, too fast towards him...

He is presented with a three-metre cliff, which he barrels off -- landing on his side. Pain sears up it, but he gets up and limps along. His eyes flicker uncontrollably, his tongue flicks at dry lips. He isn't thinking -- every single part of his brain is concentrated on survival. He can hear the surge getting louder and louder and can feel the phantom force of tonnes of rock crushing his spine as it engulfs him, but doesn't stop to look at he hears it, too, comes over the cliff.

Glancing sidelong, he pelts to the nearest tree. His foot is peppered with shrapnel as the rocks rain down upon him, and greater slabs clip his toes as he runs. Panting mightily, he stands with his back to the wide trunk and dig his claws in, praying it will hold from the onslaught. The rocks continue to surge onwards -- coming up at least a metre high around the side of the tree, larger slabs jarring his spine and aching side as they bash into his shelter. Jhans feels his hold weakening -- the tree being uprooted be the sheer force of the wave, and he digs his feet in and holds it back, fighting to keep his back straight, pushing and losing his footing and digging in and pushing again.

After some minutes, they stop and pass by. He holds his position long after the roaring, tinkling sound fades. It sounds so innocently curious from this side. Listening closely, only faint sliding noises can be heard all around him as the stones settle., the landscape has been leveled with rocks, stones and fine, fine dust. It fills the air, and the atmosphere tastes of dark, wet caves.

Heaving, he throws the tree aside, diving halfheartedly out of the small wave of rocks that were held up behind it. Groaning, he slings his shoulder back and lets out a small wine, rotating his limbs to relieve some of the aching tension. He's getting too old for this. Being attacked by mountains was not in the job description.

The faint tinkling sounds of stone upon stone increase, and he looks behind him to see the tree, its round trunk too high to jump -- it's length too high to avoid, rolling over the slope of the scree and moving with ever increasing speed. He watches it with sad, sad eyes until he is sure beyond doubt it isn't going to stop.

He doesn't get paid enough for this.

[Ranarath]

OoC: Okay, it's not great but it's something. And I'm using Adonis.

BiC:

The bright light, almost able to be confused with the sun itself, streaked across the sky and created deafening roar as it impacted the mountain. Very few things took the bard by surprise anymore but this could be counted as one that did. Adonis felt the shock wave roll over him, too weak to do much more than ring in his ears. The undead took a step forward with his eyes still locked on the mountain. A large mark, if that was the word for the missing ten feet, had been left by... whatever that light had been. “What was that?” he whispered to himself. Curiosity had managed to take place of his usual depression.

Holy, came the familiar’s broken reply. The bard stole at glance at his deep shadow and then continued to stare at the mountain. Something holy? The meteorite must carry some powerfully holy magic if it could crash into solid rock without destroying itself. Perhaps magic powerful enough to stop the Mistress...

Don’t forget why you follow me, Flauros hissed, his sentence too perfect to be his own. The bard flinched at the reminder of his Mistress. It was far too easy to be reminded why. Still, this is an interesting development. Even though it was the demon talking with his harsh voice, Adonis’ ears could hear her lilting voice that sounded like song. Why don’t you get that power for me, my dear? If you do, I could perhaps lessen your sentence. Maybe you could actually sing a joyful song for people instead of the sad ones you only know. A giggle punctuated her demand.

The undead sighed in turned his head to the stars. The dots of light seemed even less consequential after that sun-like blaze. He couldn’t refuse a task from that wench, not if he wanted to protect his beautiful wife. Taking his dead eyes from the black sky, he watched the darkened town below the hill. People were standing outside of their houses, probably with their mouths agape in shock from the object’s blinding entrance. It would be better if no one took notice of him. He didn’t want to give the Mistress any time to think about what she may like to see happen to the townsfolk. The undead moved swiftly across the grassy plain, keeping a distance from the village as fatigue never affected his deceased body. He could only hope that nobody would also be after the object or that they could be easily deterred.

[Duke of Clubs]

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiii...belieeeeeeeeeeve...them boooooooooones...are me..."

The young man cocked his head and glanced up at the sky. A distant roar echoed along with his singing along the trail. Pausing to lean against a shoddily-crafted railing, his wine-red eyes gleamed as they zoomed in on a distant shape, outlined with gold in the night sky.

"Sooooooooome saaaaaaaay..." he continued, his voice lowering. He sounded remarkably like Layne Staley. "We were booooooooorn...into the graaaaaave..."

The roaring was almost deafening now. Johnny Bones checked his watch, let out a yawn that sounded similar to a death rattle, and glanced back at the blindingly bright object speeding through the air. With a earth-shattering crash, it slammed into the top of a mountain on the other side of the valley. Blinding light filled the air. Johnny ignored it and got out of his slouch with a popping of joints. He could see just fine, thanks. He was practically done descending the mountain, and a village was near. This whole "save the world" guff didn't suit his tastes, but what could he do?

Well, it wasn't as if he didn't have enough time to go check out whatever had just ripped a mountain's peak off. Johnny set off at a lope that slowly morphed into a flat sprint that one would expect of a runner in the forty-yard dash. The zombie could literally keep it up forever, and it would take a lot less than that to get to that village, and then that mountain.

"I feel so alooooooone; gonna end up a big ol' pile a' them bones."

OoC: Lyrics from "Them Bones" by Alice in Chains. Poor ol' Layne did indeed wind up as a pile a' them bones.

[Halcyon Hero]

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. And then? What happened after you broke into Trare’s palace?” Kestrel prompted, his quill scribbling furiously across the parchment. Silence. The Gypsy licked his lips as he looked up at his unresponsive muse. Elric ignored the mage-bard, twirling the diminutive brush around in the gun chamber. Kestrel responded with a well-aimed poke to the back of the head. “Hey. Blastazoid,” The minstrel droned with annoyance, “Don’t ignore me. This is prime stuff!” The bounty hunter continued in his well-maintained silence, moving on to the next chamber. Kestrel sighed, running a hand through his thick black hair. “You know, we can do this one of two ways. You can tell me by your own free will, sparing no detail or fact, or I can pick up my harp here and force the story from your unwilling lips. Now, spill it, you gun-maniac.”

Elric’s mouth quirked up in a wry grin. He knew perfectly well that nothing irked Kestrel as much as an unfinished story, doubly so if he was in the process of converting said tale into a song. It was a favorite amusement of his to get the bard riled up, and then leave him hanging for a while.

“Just try it, bird-boy. You won’t get a word through these lips without my consent.”

“I’m almost tempted to try.” Kestrel responded, flexing his fingers in annoyance. “And I would too, if it weren’t for the fact that coercion seems to leave out a lot of details and the real good stuff.” Elric only grinned, sending the silver barrel into a whirl and snapping it closed with a sharp click. The bounty hunter turned his attentions to the first gun’s twin while the Gypsy continued on in the same vain, ranting in frustration. The two sat on the porch of the same old, generic inn the gang usually met at, enjoying the fresh, crisp night air during one of the bard’s rare breaks between performances. An ambiguous drone of laughter and rowdy conversation drifted through the oaken walls of the inn, an oddly pleasant background for the two friends. It was with great anticipation and amusement that Elric had started up on the Trare and Haelor story, even beginning the tale off by showing off Kiba to the eager Gypsy.

Kestrel had just raised his fiddle in (hopefully) mock preparation to bash it across Elric’s head when a streak of blinding white light flashed across the velvet sky, slamming into the mountain raising off the horizon and sheering clear through it’s top. Kestrel almost dropped his fiddle with his jaw, and the tiny cleaner fell forgotten from Elric’s hand. With almost as much abruptness as the . . . whatever it was, the door behind the pair flew open, a rush of sound washing over them. Both heads snapped around, looking up to stare at the innkeeper’s rugged face.

“Oi! Musicker! Break’s over! Get yer sorry self in here now!” The large man barked sharply, wiping his hands against his beer-stained apron. Kestrel’s jaw dropped all over again, almost asking how on earth the man could not be inquiring into the momentous event that had just occurred.

“But— Wait— What—” The Gypsy sputtered, his eyes wide as he found himself—for once—at a loss for words.

“No excuses! Play, now!” The man growled, slamming the door shut as he retreated back into the din of the taproom.

“You heard him.” Elric remarked smugly.

“What?!” Kestrel exploded, rounding on the bounty hunter. “How can you— Did you not just see—? Oh, my God, what is wrong with you?!” He exclaimed, twisting his fingers in his hair. Elric only smiled, waiting for the bard to arrive at the obvious solution to his problem. It didn’t even take as long as he had thought. Kestrel’s face faded from shock and indignation to enlightened annoyance and resignation.

“50.” The Gypsy snapped, forced to play the bounty hunter’s game.

“100.” Elric shot back calmly. Oh, how he was enjoying this.

“75!”

“85.”

“That thing just shaved the top half of a mountain off! What is wrong with you?” Kestrel asked desperately, attempting to appeal to the bounty hunter’s sense of adventure over his sense of money. Heh.

The door opened again, the massive innkeeper’s build blocking out most of the light. “Musicker! Now!”

“I know!” Kestrel shouted at the closing door with anxiousness before turning back to Elric. “80!”

“85.” The orange-haired man repeated coolly, peering closely at his fingernails.

“You heartless, thrice-damned bastard!!! Deal!” Kestrel yelled, snatching up his fiddle and papers. “And it had better be gooood. By all the little gods and goddesses, if you don’t get some real juicy stuff for me, I swear I’ll—” The door behind the bard flew open, and all of the innkeeper that emerged this time was a large, hairy arm that closed around the back of Kestrel’s shirt and hauled his inside. Elric burst out in laughter, snapping the gun back up and closed as he leapt to his feet. A deal’s a deal. Time to see what just chopped a mountain in half.

[Euphoria]

OoC: It has finally happened.

IC:


The harsh light of the moon was the only thing that Winona had to guide her as she ran farther and farther away from the elders’ quarters. There was no power in the Overworld capable of ending the savage wars, so Earth was her only other choice. “What do you think of going down to Earth, Cassidy?” she asked the intelligent feline.

“I was never in favour of abandoning Sahle, my friend,” he replied. “Why do you think I would care where you take me now?”

“Fine then,” she spat back sourly. “Earth it is.” The little girl turned around to face the moon again and levitated herself a little bit of the ground. Reaching down to pick up Cassidy, she flew off into the distance.

Her old town hadn’t changed much since she had last visited. A few new shops had been erected, but it was still completely recognizable. The gates to Earth were roughly in the centre of town, so she would have to move quickly to get there before daybreak. The rustle of a few leaves scuttling across the ground and the occasional purr from Cassidy were the only signs Winona heard. Things are as boring as ever, she thought disdainfully.

Beside the lavishly built town hall was a much more modest spire with a weak metal fencing surrounding it. Winona easily floated above and dropped back down before the doorway. A small flight of stairs lay in front of her, no doubt leading to the gate to Earth. “I can’t wait for the humans to see me,” the little girl whispered malevolently. “They’re in for such a shock!”

She half-skipped up the little stairs and suddenly stopped – in awe of the crystalline gateway. “Still sure about this?” her wary companion asked sheepishly. A pursed smile crept across Winona’s lips.

“How will I have the courage to stop a war if I can’t handle this?”

“Good point,” Cassidy admitted. “Go on, then.” The manipulative Strael’s little smile transformed into a victorious grin as she stepped into the eerie portal. Bright flashing lights immediately enveloped the duo as a thin pane of glass slid across the threshold of the capsule. The small elevator sat motionless for a moment and then shot downwards rapidly. Winona threw up her hands above her head in a flinching reaction, in too much awe to sing a spell. Cassidy was thrown up to ceiling violently by the speed of the elevator and let out a painful hiss as the elevator reached a stop.

Winona reached out a shaky hand to touch the glass and the pane immediately parted in two, allowing the couple to exit. Cassidy lay on the floor of the little room, letting out cat-like groans. “Come on,” Winona hissed impatiently. “If there is a power strong enough to aid us here, humans might be after it too!” The star-child gave a growl of annoyance and leapt back op on Winona’s arm.

“Where will we find this “ultimate power” of yours?” the little cat investigated after walking a while. “I don’t see any flashing beacons alerting us to its presence!”

“Shut up,” Winona replied in frustration. “Can’t you just have faith? If you can’t we’ll do this: find a town nearby and start asking questions.” Cassidy sighed and quietened down.

“Do whatever you want.” The little girl smiled with satisfaction and once again raised herself off the ground. She then set off north – or what she hoped was north – to try and find any information that might help them. After a few minutes of travelling at a respectable speed, Cassidy gave a little yawn. “Can’t we just go back to the Overworld and make up a story for the Elders?” he moaned. “I hate it here.”

“We haven’t even met anyone yet, you buffoon. Give it time and you too will see how much power is locked away in this landscape. As if to provide proof for Winona’s statement, one fabulously bright light suddenly flashed into existence. It remained – seemingly motionless – in the sky so several seconds before finally crashing into a nearby mountain with a deafening scream. When Winona opened her eyes, several huge blotches of colour blocked out any hope of seeing what remained of the crushed mountain. A faint ringing lay in her ears, disabling sound too. “Are you okay, Winona?” he asked telepathically.

“I can’t see and there’s a ringing in my ears, but that will go away.” She replied. She couldn’t avoid rubbing this in his face. “And, look! “Ultimate power” enough for you?” she smirked. For once, the girl simply ran instead of floating around. Perhaps the prospect of saving feuding races from total destruction was a little too overwhelming.

[Ciroton]

Concern filled every bone of the mage’s body as he made his dash towards the base of the mountain. His former mentors were strong mages; however, even they would not be able to stop a meteorite from falling on their heads. The very thought of this drove him to run faster, despite the slick grass from yesterday’s storm. Only his staff illuminated the way through the dense forest as he climbed over fallen logs and moss-covered rocks.

A strange pillar of light that stretched for the heavens illuminated the top of the mountain. Everyone who witnessed the crash of the object with the peak could see this incredible phenomenon. All others only saw smoke and a slight, reddish glow that proceed the crash of a celestial object. In total, only seven or eight people saw this beautiful display of light.

Finally reaching the base of the defaced mountain, Arin wedged his staff between his belt and his robes. Grasping the nearest rock and checking to make sure it was stable; he began his accent of the seven hundred-foot tall peak. Getting the chance to look up, he too saw the pillar of light, moreover, he could sense a great power emanating from the source. Strangely, his book, Angelic Magics, also seemed to respond to whatever it was.

*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*

On a rock, outside the cave where the orb once stood sat the man depressed that his life-long dream was gone once again. With his head bowed, and his hands resting on his cane, many people would confuse him for having fallen asleep. Was it all a dream? He wondered as he contemplated the last hour’s events. It sure felt like it to him, like one of those good dreams you have, only to be awakened by reality.

Just as he was about to give up his dream to the harsh desert of life, one of his young servants ran up to him, a telegram in hand. “Sir!” He shouted. “One of our men in Signaman Valley said he saw the orb crash into Mt. Alson. Took a good chunk out of it too, judging by the report.”

His head perked up; perhaps the dream was not over yet? The man looked anxiously at the messenger and said to him, “Signaman Valley? You mean the area around Chestnut Hallow?”

“Yes,” replied the messenger. “What about it?”

The man mused over the situation for a few minutes, diving into the deepest recesses of his brain to come up with a good solution. “I know!” He said eagerly. “Let us send it. Tell them to destroy anyone who has come into contact with the orb, and secure the location until we arrive.”

“Yes, Sir!” Said the messenger before he bounded off to spread the news.

*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*

The climb was long and hard for the mage, usually not one to go rock climbing. However, he managed to reach the peak nonetheless. Breathing heavily, he sat on a nearby rock to catch his breath, ignoring the light emanating from the object in the crater. Looking around, he saw the charred ruins of the home of his teachers. From this distance he could tell the building was derelict before the meteorite crashed into the mountain.

Turning his attention to the meteor instead, Arin slowly climbed down the crater, down to the object itself. It was a perfect sphere emitting a pure, white light that seemed to warm the chilly night air and bring comfort to the weary mage. Walking up to the object, he placed his hand on it tentatively, feeling a massive rush of power. Instantly, he pulled his hand back, surely this power was not meant for mankind.

The crashing of a falling rock alerted the mage to a new presence. How long they lingered there was the only question on his mind as he walked towards the source, staff drawn in case it was hostile.

OoC: Not as good or long as my last, but whatever. Anyway, I'll post again after everyone else to continue the RP. However, the last person to post before me must have the orb roll down the mountainside somehow, then disappear out of sight. Then, it will go to the post-in-whatever-order thing after my next post. Not that I'm being close-ended here, but it's just that needs to happen in order for the RP to really begin.

[Halcyon Hero]

How many people, Elric had to ask himself, could snowboard up a mountain? Of course, he supposed that he couldn’t really call it snowboarding, considering the foot or so of empty space between his hover board and the snowy face of the mountain. Still, it was a rather fun and unique experience. The bounty hunter zipped around a craggy outcropping, sending up a rooster tail of snow from the force of his passing. Kicking the back end of his board out, the orange-haired man changed directions, flowing smoothly over the various breaks and bumps without a single jarring. Brushing a fleck of melting snow off his goggles, the bounty hunter stared eagerly up at the fast approaching peak.

His hand passed lightly over his various weapons, wondering which would service him best. No doubt he hadn’t been the only one to witness the explosion of light, and he could count on at least one or two interfering fools. His gloved hand tightened momentarily around the coiled chain of Fang, before moving on to feel the cool metal shaft of his naginata. His questing fingers continued their search for the appropriate tool, the weapon that he would first employ against any opposition he happened upon. Grinning, he slipped both hands under his jacket and firmly grasped the twin revolvers. He hadn’t had a change to use them against Trare or her minions, and rather missed the smell and flash of gunpowder.

His decision made, the Wolf put on a burst of speed, shooting up past the lip of the peak and turning over in the air. Grasping the board with one hand, the Elric turned himself around to look down on the flat expanse of the recently shaved mountain. From his vantage point, he could clearly make out several forms already around a brightly glowing object. Slipping his feet free as he came back down, the bounty hunter flipped the switch in the middle of the board and deftly returned it to an inside pocket of his jacket.

“Hello all,” He said brightly, his hand reemerging with a revolver.

[Ranarath]

The jagged and ice-covered rocks that made up the mountain created dangerous hand-holds for anyone trying to climb up. And the high itself could wear out even the most sturdy people. With these facts, Adonis almost felt guilt about having Flauros carry him upwards. But the demon was faring much better than the bard ever could, even if the cold didn’t affect him and he would never tire physically. The familiar was panting slightly but not enough for Adonis to even consider the idea that it was tired. “Cold,” Flauros grumbled audibly. The songster gripped the coarse fur on the demon’s back as it leaped to another precipice.

“Unfortunately, it’s not going to get any warmer,” he commented. The undead could barely feel the cold with his dead skin. In fact, most of what he felt was probably just mental, his mind creating the cold that he should be feeling. The demon leaped once more and landed on another outcropping. However, a sharp crack warned the familiar of its weakness and Flauros leaped to another rock before the one it had been on fell away. “That could’ve hurt,” Adonis stated tonelessly. “Flauros, can you tell if there are others coming to the mountain?” With the large flash the item had created, no doubt more people would be determined to find out what it was. Which could only created problems for the bard.

The familiar raised its nose to the air and sniffed. “Cold,” it muttered once more, “can’t tell.” Then it growled in protest to the environment.

The undead sighed, “So we won’t know who’s here until we meet them. That can’t be good.” He carefully slid down the demon’s back, “You’ll cause problems if they see you first thing. You’re dismissed, Flauros.” With that command, the demon turned into an undefinable shadow and slid into the undead’s own shadow, tinting it dark red. Thankfully, the demon had almost carried the bard to the top, leaving only a few more ledges to clear. However, considering the bard didn’t have much physical skill, getting over the rocks would be an arduous task in itself. Testing the nearest hand-hold, the undead began to pull himself up the rocks, careful to avoid as many ice-covered holds as possible. He almost slipped once was able to grab another rock before falling. Finally, with a large heave he clambered over the edge to see a great hole in front of him. And another person staring at it. So, another has already arrived. This will be difficult.

[Awkin]

Jhans falls onto his side, and pants -- teeth bared, tongue lolling. As he watches -- the first trickle of a buried stream re-emerging bubbles out of the rock by his head. He laps at it, before spitting it out -- and with it a good deal of the hideous, stony dust that coats his mouth like a vile affliction. It is stone, and it tastes so. Carse and inedible.

Looking around him, the dust conceals all. He coughs as the substance fills his lungs, and splutters as it works its way into his eyes. As far as he can see, there is only a mute, sloped scale of shrapnel and slabs of shattered stone.

Jhans hastily assesses his situation. Downhill? Dangerous, and the way the smog will be drifting. Round? Unhelpful -- and may reveal winds, which would be worse than any blizzard or sandstorm with the air like this. Up? The only way.

And so he sets off, keeping his face out to the wide, to keep it from the drifting dust. It soon settles, and a cover of dust akin to fine sand settles over the hillside, hiding both small crevice and sharp edge. After a half day's trudge, Jhans turns to look behind him. The hillside seems grey and smooth under its veil of dust. Jhans realizes that the path he was following must have been long buried -- and Grey, separated from the bear during the landslide, is nowhere to be seen.

Jhans was working his way North to find the Maliore, whom he had heard tell of of from a miner. A group of rebel Panserbjorn, who refused to succumb to the new bear king's regime of war and growth domination and science -- hiding high in mountains crowned by snow and ice, all year. They would prove a valuable ally if Jhans is ever to liberate the bear nations.

And that's the problem with bears. They don't mind who their king is, they are loyal to him anyway. To avoid civil war, the only time they would come upon a foe as harsh and fierce as they themselves are, the bears remain loyal to their rules. And they have good reason to be. He has either fought or thought his way to kingship, rarely killing his opponents. That is a very... human thing to do.

Upon reaching higher and higher altitudes, the air thins and the rock underfoot becomes warm. Slipping on the least uncarcened of the debree, it slowly gives out to a glassy surface, almost scolding to the touch. Suddenly, the slope opens out onto a smooth plateau, melted by the heat of what seems to be an impact. What remains of the peak towers high above, craggy and raw.

And there, nestling in the rubble, something incandescent and brilliant. Jhans reaches out, but the heat makes him recoil. A wind stirs the hair on his hide, and he hears a raucous caw, and spots Grey, circling off to the east, his call carried on the wind. Jhans gives a rough, barking call in the tongue he trained Grey to obey, and the bird circles in and lands in front of him, shifting uneasily on the warm ground.

Whatever this item is, it should not fall victim to the wandering people of this land. It sparkles, as though calling to him, not striking but... constant. And who knows? It could hold value among the human kind.

And then, far sooner than Jhans had expected, people started arriving on the plateau. And they didn't stop coming.

[Duke of Clubs]

The singing had stopped. The only sound came from the sizzling of flame on rock as Johnny ran up the mountain. In this case, running up the mountain means literally up the mountain.

The sheer cliff had been the closest way to the top; Johnny wasn't a man to go the long way around. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the ground a long way away. He made an odd figure, sticking out horizontally from the cliff. Fire burned at a high enough temperature to melt rock. His feet sunk into the stone, leaving a molten trail of footprints up the mountain that looked more like fossils than tracks.

With his telescopic vision, far superior to the finest sniper rifle's scope, Johnny had seen other people racing towards the mountaintop. His initial curiosity had faded. Now, he basically just didn't want them to get to it.

Those same people turned as one as he shot off of the cliff on a perpendicular line, skidding to a halt on the outskirts of the lopsided circle they had made. His guns were already in his hands, fully loaded with hollow-point bullets.

OoC: Short ass post, but I already had one but then we got haxzor3d. So screw it. :S

[Euphoria]

OoC: I posted! Let's all do the happy dance.

IC:

Quickly becoming tired of the annoying triviality that is running, Winona formed an invisible disk beneath her feet and drew upon her magic. The girl rose from the ground with a start and whispered an inaudible squeal to Cassidy before starting easily up a sheer side of the mountain. “No humans have the power to levitate like I,” she quietly bragged. “I’m in no danger.”

“Don’t be so sure,” replied her wise star-child. “Underestimation is often a deadly mistake.”

“Fine,” she grumbled back while preparing herself to shield. The duo swiftly crept higher up the mountain until the constant white light left tiny spots in their eyes. Shadows slid about dauntingly atop the mountain, and Winona stopped in mid-air a moment to prepare herself. So maybe the humans have reached the summit before me. They still have no means of defending themselves. A couple of simple spells will have them falling right off the mountain, and my prize sitting right in front of me. Oh, this had better be enough to save the Overworld; if it doesn’t this world will have to pay.

Cassidy, she called telepathically to her mentor. Go and scope out the situation on the summit. Come back and tell me how many people there are, if they are armed and stuff like that. The cat did its best at nodding and jumped nimbly from Winona’s shoulder to a tiny crag on the mountain. From there it sprang several more times until it reached the top. The Strael saw her friend slither around for a moment, then begin its frightful journey down the mountain again. Winona didn’t watch this time, just turned her head while waiting for Cassidy’s return. The feline jumped on Winona’s shoulder and began relaying the information,

I didn’t have time to check in detail, but there were three or four there already; all rather fearsome-looking.

So, do we rush upwards with guns blazing and crush them or take them out one by one? The little cat shrugged. “Fine!” Winona whispered angrily. “I’ll just float up and see what happens.” The Strael tightened her grip on her inner pool of magic and soared upwards, unwary of the danger that they could be facing.

[Ciroton]

OoC: Sorry for the delay. School stuff, etc.

BiC:
Shock and confusion filled the head of the young mage as he looked around and saw the many creatures whom had assembled, possibly to take this anomaly for themselves. Arin felt certain that unless something about this object was done, even more people would climb the shattered peak to claim this orb for their own reasons or desires. Two of them were even so bold as to draw their weapons immediately upon arrival, pointing them at everyone else.

There was no possible way for Arin to describe the others who had managed to climb to the new peak of the mountain. However, he observed that one of them appeared to be deceased judging by the Grey-ish colour of his skin, another was obviously a bear/human hybrid, two of the more human looking people had guns, and only one of the others was a woman. One thing he could tell that they all had in common was that they each desired the object that lay in font of them.

Unbeknownst to them, an even greater standoff was taking place over the neighbouring mountain.

*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*

High above the land flew an object still foreign to many of those on the ground. After all, not many Helicopters dared fly in the windy passage know as Signaman Valley. Still, the man in the backseat stood determined to reach his destination. Even the dead of night would not keep him from reaching Mount Alson, the landing site of the Orb of Gabriel.

“What’s our ETA?” The man Inquired to his sleep-deprived Pilot.

“Two minutes, that is if we don’t run into anythi- Bogey at three O’clock!” Answered the pilot before shouting the warning.

“One of theirs?” Asked the man.

“Yes, shall I engage?”

“Of course. We must not let them get any closer.” With that, the pilot turned the chopper in the direction of the incoming threat.

*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*

From the peak of the mountain, the mage could hear the whirling sound of the two helicopters, one of them so close that it’s outline could be discerned from the rest of the pitch-black sky above. The blinking lights also caught the attention of many of the other people who were present, some of them had obviously