{Round 2} Dead Like Me

[Halcyon Hero]

Fire swirled around him, exploding hunks of sulfur and embers pelting his body rapidly. He did not feel it. Flames flashed up before him in a renewed attempt to repel the intruder. A handful of ancient, arcane words, and the flames were smothered under a blanket of icy wind, clearing a path for the lone figure. The roar of the fire and popping embers masked the sound of skeletal feet clicking against the jagged rock, hid the advancement of the lich. Zaknafein turned his glowing crimson eyes up the jagged path, to where a handful of imps and devils hunched over a ledge, snarling and howling their fury and hate at him. One particularly broad-chested denizen leapt up into the air, wide, leathery wings flapping as it bellowed and raised its hands above its head. Energy crackled between the clawed fingers, pulsating between a malicious violet and dark red. The energy tore across sweltering, ash- and ember-filled expanse between the lich and hovering devil in a jagged bolt, blowing a path through the flames.

Zaknafein watched calmly as the trembling bolt of magic crashed against an invisible shield not two feet before his face, the angry violet and red splashing against a bright blue wherever it went. The lich raised a bony hand, extending one finger to point at the howling fiend. A sharp line of green burst from the smooth, white bone tip, cutting through the devil’s spell and arcing to pierce the beast’s heart. Violent spider-web lines of green spread across the broad-chested fiend’s body, coaxing forth an ear-splitting scream of agony. Then the cry was cut short, the denizen exploding in a cloud of green flames. The rest of the devils and imps snarled angrily at the lich again before turning and fleeing back down the other side of the sulfuric ledge.

“Minor pests; always in the way.” Zak cackled to himself, enjoying the carnage despite the delay anyways. His crimson robes whipping around him, the lich leapt into the air, a purely mental spell carrying him up and over the ledge. The jagged rock swept down from the ledge, narrowing as it went until it finally came to a single outcropping, barely wide enough for one person. Or skeleton, as it were. Zak strolled down the slope, his burning eyes focused exclusively on the alter standing at the end of the path. The structure stood just over six feet tall, and about half that wide, purely constructed from the bones of the Damned. For this was Hell, home of devils and the eternally suffering. Large, bone-made spikes rose out behind and to the sides of the alter in a wide fan, sporting various burn marks where the evil flames had rose up past the narrow path to lick at the structure.

Zaknafein approached the alter, a bony claw held outstretched to the figurine sitting abandoned upon it. It was a kneeling man, impaled numerous times from behind by a host of mighty skeleton warriors, wielding wicked swords and spiked armor. Zaknafein grabbed the figurine eagerly, his finger bones curling around it to blend in with the nearly identical pieces of the object. As his last finger closed around it, a deafening boom washed over the lich, demonic fire, lightning, and other magic exploding from the figurine as various protective wards were set off. The lich waited calmly for the smoke to clear, his arm still outstretched. When it finally did, it was to reveal that his skeletal arm had been blown apart at the elbow. Zak’s skull pivoted on its neck, turning a full circle as he peered around for the lost limb. Spotting the arm blasted against the fan of bone-spikes, the lich raised his other hand, snapping his fingers expectantly.

The separated arm wiggled free of the fan and dropped to the ground, rose up onto its fingertips, and crawled back towards Zak like a freakish spider. The appendage sprang into the air, twirling so that the disjointed forearm could join again with elbow. Arm firmly back in place, the lich once again closed his hand around the figurine, now devoid of any protection. Chuckling, the undead mage spun on his heel and started back towards his Gate.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

Waving his hands through yet another series of patterns, Zak watched as the myriad of runes surrounding the artifact flashed, their regular, constant blue glow turning golden for a moment. A small black hole opened in front Zak’s hand, which plunged in without hesitation. Or, rather than to say that the hole was black, it was better to say that it was devoid of any color at all; a void. Withdrawing with a bit of silver powder pinched between his skeletal fingers, the lich’s hand flicked forward, tossing the powder over the figurine. Slowly but surely, the undead mage worked, each added spell and ingredient working some change in the runes surrounding the artifact or the magical dome covering it.

Zaknafein had raised the undead before. More over, he had raised thousands of them. He kept a few hundred skeletons, zombies, and ghouls on standby alone. But this time . . . this time would be completely different. He’d raised powerful vampires, mummies, and more to his call, but now he embarked to surpass all of that. Now, he sought to increase his power, and expand his powers, as he had consistently done for centuries. This time, he would call to him an undead warrior that surpassed any vampire or skeleton he had ever called before; one that would be infinitely loyal to him. One that would easily dispatch those pesky adventures whenever they came to interrupt his work.

The figurine glowed, the light emanating from it masking the details carved into it. Zak looked around as the summoning neared completion, surveying all of his preparations one last time before his deadly new servant appeared. The lich stood atop a tall, wide plateau, barren and dead. Just like him. The sky above was heavily clouded, blocking out the starry night sky. The only light atop the plateau came from the glowing figurine, runes, the blue magelight hovering over Zak’s skull, and the brief flashes of lightning within the clouds above. Magical chains hovered above and around the artifact, ready to bind the summoned creature with a single word. And a red, glass-like sigil hung in midair, between the lich and figurine. Once the creature was summoned, Zaknafein would press the sigil onto it, forever binding it as his servant.

The figurine and runes pulsed again, golden light engulfing the area. It was nearly time. Zaknafein started into the final, summoning chant, sending his power out into the artifact. Tendrils of red and black snaked over the figurine, overlapping the gold light. Time seemed to slow down for the lich as he droned out the last words of the spell. The figurine exploded in a burst of red, black, and gold, the pieces bouncing back in on themselves as they hit the protective dome. And the light spread, past the dome, chains, sigil, and even Zaknafein himself.

The necromancer looked on unflinchingly, watching for the first sign of his new servant. And then he came, a dark shadow within the light. Zak barked out the command word that the hovering chains were waiting for, and the magical constraints shot in, wrapping around the humanoid form. His skull locked in a gaping grin, Zaknafein reached out towards the hovering sigil, resting his fingertips upon it.

“Welcome, my new servant,” Zak called softly, pushing the red, magical glass towards the form’s shadowed head, ready to brand it forever into the thing’s skull. And so he would have, had a bullet not shot out from the shadow and crashed through the sigil, shattering it to pieces. The bullet continued past Zak’s outstretched arm and hit him squarely in the jaw, spinning his skull around several times.


OoC: Hot damn, I got it up! Now, if you can post before the weekends out, I'll probably be able to get a reply in before Monday. Stupid school taking up all my resources. <<

[Duke of Clubs]

A gleaming white shape emerged from the blackness with a popping of joints. Fire burst into existence, beating away the chains as if they were cobwebs. A skeleton silently stalked out of the darkness, a heavy Beretta pistol cradled in one hand, and cocked its head. Its crimson points of light that served as eyes cut through the gloom like flashlights.

The two skeletons looked like they could be brothers, inasmuch as skeletons could have siblings. Blood-red eyes watched each other; thick bones hung motionless in the air, suspended with no visible means of support. Both were rather tall. Only their clothing set them apart. One--the summoner--wore a finely-tailored robe that matched his eyes, with a leather vest over it. The other--the "summonee"--was garbed in a jacket and cargo pants made of a sand-colored, bulletproof material. A cap, worn backwards, was secured tightly around his head with the velcro strapped together as tightly as possible.

For a moment, the two skeletons stared at each other. Skeletons are accomplished starers. Then, with out further ado, Johnny Bones pulled the trigger of his pistol and pumped a trio of bullets into his summoner's face.

"...the hell?" he asked, holstering the pistol. "I don't have time for this."

This is what you get for minding your own business, is it? For saving people? Johnny hated his skeletal self. The thing he least wanted to see was someone else that looked like he did. No way, José. If emo kids moping around at the malls across America could share Johnny's zombie state, they would value their skin more likely and, hopefully, stop cutting themselves.

Thinking about emos made Johnny's mood, already at a low point, take a turn for the worse.

He didn't want to fight anybody. He was tired of it. There were nine-thousand people out there that needed to be rescued from unknown fates; who said violence was necessary for soul-saving? Not God. Not Johnny. For a moment, he considered fleeing while his counterpart corpse was still sizing him up.

Depression bit down hard at times like this; depression bit down hard all the god damned time. That was another advantage of having skin and a digestive tract: alcohol and drugs.

No, no running. He still had some pride. He'd just make it quick.

Golden flames sprang into life in his open palms, crackling with holy energy. He slammed his hands together to create one single fireball and hurled it at his summoner. It crashed into the taller skeleton's chest and sent him tumbling backwards.

That made Johnny feel a bit better. Not by much...but enough.

[Halcyon Hero]

Well, this was certainly not going as planned. To think that he, Zaknafein, an undead, unholy lich, would summon a holy warrior! Moreover, an undead holy warrior! It was almost as ironic as it was annoying. Maybe even a little more. But more importantly, he was not pleased. And a lich who is not pleased isn‘t any kind of lich to be around. Zaknafein looked up at his attacker, meeting a pair of angry crimson eyes—so like his own—with a glare of his own. Golden flames sprang to life in the summoned skeleton’s hands, and the summoned warrior brought them together to form another flaming orb above his head. Zak only had to feel the agonizing burn of those flames once to recognize them as being holy, and knowing that it wasn’t something he wanted to feel again. Zak suddenly decided that he didn’t want this creature as his servant anymore. He’d destroy it instead.

The lich pointed a finger at the summoned skeleton, an orb of unholy darkness flying from the bony digit to meet the holy fireball in midair. The two opposing forces crashed in an explosion of black and gold, canceling each other out. Rising slowly to his feet, Zak watched as the opposing skeleton brought the dual guns to bear again. Smirking, the undead mage silently erected an invisible shield around himself and watched as a series of bullets—all aimed expertly for his skull and key bone joints, he noticed—collapsed against it, falling to the ground in a cheerful rain of crushed disks. The other skeleton cocked its head thoughtfully before it finally holstered the guns and drew a broad longsword instead. The lich’s smirk faded away as the sword was enshrouded by those detestable flames.

Muttering under his breath, Zak watched as the barren ground of the plateau broke apart, skeletal hands and arms emerging from the rocky soil, leading the way for the rest of the undead soldiers. Armed with sword and shield, a dozen skeletons stood between Zak and Johnny, their undead grins turned towards Johnny’s own. Sword flashing, Johnny launched forward, weaving between the opposing force with each to stand before Zaknafein. His next spell already prepared, Zak leaned to peer past the surprisingly quick Johnny and watched as his freshly raised brigade fell to pieces, smoothly sliced bones clattering to the ground. The flaming sword flashed up again, slicing back down to tear effortlessly through Zak’s shield, burning it away in a wave of golden flames. Still, the ever-calm Zaknafein remained still.

Johnny rushed forward, sword leading, ready to pierce the lich’s skull. Holding up a hand, Zak coolly snapped his fingers, a large black disk appearing before the charging skeleton. Johnny tumbled through the portal, another disk opening a dozen feet away, and twice that distance up in the air. Highly amused by the sight of Johnny falling like a rock towards the ground, the undead mage snapped his fingers again, a dozen more portals popping into existence all over the plateau. Another, smaller, portal appeared at the lich’s elbow, and he plunged his arm in, his bony grasp tightened around a ridged, white chain. He was going to have fun.

[Duke of Clubs]

No big deal, Johnny thought unconvincingly as the ground seemed to joyously shoot up to meet him. It was just like skydiving, only without the parachute...

Hm. Not that comforting a thought. Nevertheless, he mustn't lose confidence, right? Those minions were pussies, anyways.

The zombie focused, crimson eyes burning, as he tumbled towards another gaping portal. Time slowed around him, like he was running at full speed through a bowl of clear honey, sticky and slow. I could totally own everyone in The Matrix.

He gained control of his descent and, without even a wince, ripped his left arm out of its socket. It fell, still grasping the flaming sword, and was sucked into the portal. With luck, it would pop up again somewhere else. Johnny cracked his knuckles as he rotated once more, preparing to enter the dark pool of magic feet-first.

Seconds later, he fell into the portal. A strange feeling enveloped him. If air in bullettime had felt like moving through honey, the portal felt more like...jell-o. Ha, kinda like that one time with those two sexy wrestling chicks found a big cauldron at that bar in Vegas...good times...

Oh, right. A battle.

Johnny's arm, flung up above his head, bathed itself in holy flames and melted the rock around the portal, leaving deep gashes in the beige stone. He remained suspended in the portal with only a strong grip in semi-molten rock tethering him to that location. A split second later, he felt his second arm shoot out of another portal ten yards away. With a buzz, it zipped through the air and began to engage the lich that had summoned him. A louder buzz entered Johnny's ear-area; did his foe have a chainsaw? That would be pretty badass.

After a few seconds, he hauled himself out of the portal and tip-toed through the maze of portals, pausing when he reached the robed skeleton. His second arm was fending off attacks ferociously--Johnny would have applauded, but one hand cannot clap no matter what those damn Buddhists say--and it was time to give it a hand.

Ha, ha, ha.

Holy energy buzzed and crackled into life around his right fist--the one still attached--and burst forward in a bright, gleaming pillar. The lich, distracted by the floating arm, took the brunt of the golden-colored blow, pitching forward into one of his own portals. The floating arm whizzed back towards its body, attaching with a click.

"That's some nice unarmed combat, that is," Johnny commented, turning to see his summoner erupt out of a portal, his saw-blade hissing angrily. Vaguely, Johnny wondered how his fellow skeleton had summoned him from America. Obviously, some sort of arcane magic, or Magick if he felt particularly fancy. He could just ask politely.

Or he could beat seven kinds of hell out of this skeletal poser until he confessed using his own Free Will.

[Halcyon Hero]

Buzz-saw whirling fiercely, Zak approached the now-whole zombie, swinging the bone-chain in a wide circle lazily. The two stared at each other long and hard, reevaluated each other after the first bout. Stoking his jawbone thoughtfully—seeing as he doesn’t have an actual chin—Zak ran his glowing eye-orbs up and down Johnny. He didn’t seem so tough. Sure, the zombie had speed and strength to rival his own, strong armor, and painfully powerful holy magic, along with the several other useful abilities he had demonstrated so far. But he was a lich. He had centuries worth of spells and powers at his beck and call. This undead brat wasn’t going to one-up him.

Sending a fresh surge of magical energy through the long chain and into the saw-blade, Zaknafein snapped the weapon out to his right, the buzzing disk soaring through a circular void and reemerging on Johnny’s right. The blade snapped into the zombie’s jawbone, etching a deep gash and spinning it around several times. Tugging on his end of the ridged chain, Zak sent another magical pulse down the line, sending the buzz-saw wrapping around Johnny’s shoulders and upper arms. The lich quickly wrapped the chain around his bony hand, tugging it tight. Grinning, he sent another surge, the buzz-saw picking up speed and grinding away ferociously at Johnny’s neck. The bound skeleton’s arms and upper torso burst into golden flames as he strained against the constraint.

“I’m afraid that won’t work this time,” Zak chided, grinning. “Neither your strength nor your magic will break that chain.” The lich’s crimson orbs flashed, an idea coming to him. Real flames, an angry orange and red, burst into life in Zak’s hand and spread onto the bone-chain. And for the first time, the lich saw in Johnny’s glowing eyes a hint of hesitance and, dare he say . . . fear? Chuckling, the skeleton sent the flames climbing along the chain, inching closer towards the portal. The flames continued to make their way towards Johnny, slowly, tauntingly. They had just broken through to the other side of the portal when Johnny wiggled an arm up and snapped his fingers. The armored skeleton fell to pieces, the chain falling limp. Disappointed, Zak pulled at the chain, shortening its length until it had been reduced to a manageable length. Slipping into another portal behind him, the lich waited while Johnny reassembled.

Reemerging well away from the original battleground, Zaknafein contemplated his next move. He could see the cluster of portals and a vaguely human form almost two hundred yards away. His foe—for all that he wielded holy flames—seemed to fear real fire. How primitive. But, if fire is what did the job, fire it was. A portal popped up in front of the lich, and he promptly stepped through. His magical transportation deposited him—to his immense satisfaction and amusement—only a mere ten feet behind Bones. Both stiffening and lengthening Rizzen, the undead necromancer launched the stiffened chain like a spear, keeping a hold on the lengthening end. Johnny whipped around as the buzzing blade soared towards him, dropping down in a crouch under the attack. The holy warrior held forth both hands, sending a bright ball of gold flames at Zak. The lich calmly sidestepped the orb, which disappeared into the endless darkness. The chain in Zak’s hand went limp, and the lich whipped it up and down, the backlash traveling along it, flames bursting from Zak’s hand and following behind.

Johnny dodged to the side at the same moment as Zaknafein stepped through another portal, appearing right behind the zombie. Johnny spun on the lich, sword raised. Zaknafein promptly burst into flames, the orange and red tongues framing his skull like an unholy halo. Johnny actually stepped back. But not back enough. Zak pulled back and launched a vicious blow with his free hand against the zombie’s face, sending him spiraling through the air to hit the ground several yards away. Laughing openly, the flaming lich conjured a skull similar to his own in his hand. The skull, too, burst into flame, and Zak hurled it at Johnny. The flaming skull hit the ground at the holy warrior’s feet and exploded in a cloud of flame and magical energy. Laughing again, Zak conjured another exploding skull.