#;adventures

[strifesworndavid]

PROMPT 005 - CHAOTIC ARSENAL

After the dream, he'd felt like something was different. Something beneath his skin, something within his core had changed, but he'd mostly dismissed it as some lingering aftereffects of it all. Up until he pushed his way in to the training grounds like normal. A way to burn off energy. Reached for the same power, same thrumming pulse within his core and let loose with the great sword.

Embrace Chaos. It never looked the same twice. Something remain as a thread, an indication of what he's tapping in to, but it's as ever shifting as the pace of his swings or the weight behind them. Flickering energy at his wrists, at his feet, along his shoulders. Sometimes sickly and acidic, glacial blue, searing red, something just a flickering image of resounding sound. As bright as a flash of lightning, or honey hued like it was no threat as all. The same shade that his weapons flared when tapping in to a Turmoil Burst. Something unpredictable.

But it was when he launched in to something tried and true that he felt a difference. Sure, Dissonant Strikes was just as prone to variation, but the energy coating each swing at a target was practically visceral this time. Each slash hued in strife, crimson and violet blended together in to something close to magenta. Each strike seemed to flare, and he felt different feedback. A flare of energy he hadn't called on, a sudden splitting headache for but a moment, a flickering mark burned in to the dummy, and then a resounding crash of lightning as a burst struck true. He didn't hide the grin. Oh, that was different.

That was exciting.

Something had changed within him, and he needed to see what else he could pull on now. Steep himself further in that discordant energy he'd been reaching in his dreams. Embrace dropped, to instead focus his gaze on his targets. Strife. Discord. One became Julian, one became a cloaked mage, the other a hooded assassin, in his head at least. A breath, a second, and searing chains flared to life. Reaching, coiling, like those that had tried to restrain him. Striking (dummy) flesh and leaving a scar in it's wake. Like an actual slash of his weapon, embedded in each dummy.

"Suffer for your transgressions and cowardice." It felt like something badass to murmur, the fact he mouthed bitches afterward probably lost him points. Each scar seemed to shift, until they were linked in turn once more. Covenant Of Contempt. Sworn to return suffering upon them. More swings, more attacks, pushing a limit for a few moments longer, before once again feeling something welling beneath the surface.

And then the swing brings with it a wave. Crashing forward, surging out in an explosion of energy from where he connected the greatsword with the front most dummy. Streaming from his hands, like an outburst of the latent within himself. And he'd have been impressed, if the size of the blow hadn't caught... Way more dummies in it than he'd anticipated. Maelstrike. A heavy blow, and with it?

An overwhelming chorus of effects that definitely has him flat on his break. Breathless, but laughing. Okay that was big.

[strifesworndavid]

Ichor and Descent

David hadn't really seen a reason to wait once the goblet was in his hand, already half way through bringing it up to his lips when he was told to do so. A brief flicker of his eyes around, almost the picture of caught with his hand in the cookie jar, before tipping it back and chugging. Viscous, kinda sticky on it's way down, coating his tongue in an unfamiliar sensation that was altogether pretty unpleasant to start with.

It almost felt like slipping in to the abyss, the minute the liquid had slid down his throat. Darkness encroaching upon his vision, sinking in to something that felt similar to the embrace of the ocean, but heavier. Oil, or tar, or… Well, there was a lot of ways he could have gone about describing it, but it mostly just felt like being swallowed up by the unknown. Endless nothing…

"Or endless possibilities."

A voice, finishing the thought before it had fully brewed. Her voice, right? It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and get the impression it was her. Or his perception of her, more so. Maybe. He was not a genius to absolutely nobodies surprise, so it was all still a little out there.

"Oh Son, seeking new thrills doesn't come cheap. How about you prove your truly worth the work, hm?"

The darkness cleared, replaced with blinding light. David had spent his, admittedly still pretty short life, seeking out the highest highs to escape the lowest lows. Hit rock bottom, and then the only way wa-

"Boring, boring, boring. Come on, you're a Greek Demigod, we all know there's tragedy in your blood and life will always find a way to make it worse. That's beginner, that's entry level. What really sets you apart from everybody else, Son of Mine?"

The voice cuts through, again, but it at least gets him back in his feet. Literally on the edge, staring out over the sprawling horizon at the top of a mountain. He could remember climbing them, because it seemed like it would be something to give him a real rush. A challenge to overcome, and a way of feeling like he'd done something. Or, well, that was what he put on his university applications, sold it like some way of growing and overcoming a challenge, to prove that he could.

Really? He'd seen it on a poster and just decided he had to do it. Knew well enough not to go completely unprepared, he wasn't out to kill himself. Just… Maybe teeter on the edge of it, really feel a thrill.

"You're still boring me. Where's the enter-"

"Maybe if you stopped cutting me off we could get to that?"

He was still on that edge, still staring, but yelling at the voice echoing in the back of his head. A few feet between him and a plummeting fall. Barefoot on sun baked rock, high enough that the air felt light enough to make his head just the perfect level of fuzzy. Alive.

"Strife, and discord, that's your whole schtick, right? I really don't know what that has to do with me, but it seems we definitely share a similar outlook on something. Things have been boring, haven't they?"

He was aware, enough, that this was a trip. A divine trip, sure, but it wasn't real. There were meant to be gods out there keeping him safe, so why not see what happened in here? Eyes lifting upward, toward the sun hanging in the sky, and taking another step toward the edge. The fuzzy edge to his vision sharpening at that initial spike of adrenaline, the shifting sensation in his stomach that always came before doing something just bordering on a bad idea.

And another. Eyes tracing down, and down. Sharper, and sharper focus. Each step had his attention zeroing in on how close he was. Three, two, one.

Staring off the edge, and then turning his back before dropping. He wanted to watch the sky racing further and further away as he fell. That'd be a thrill, right? Not knowing when the collision would arrive.

"You give me some real fun, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep from being boring, for both our sakes. You're expecting me to fight, to kill, to maybe die to sort out whatever mess the worlds coming to, right? It better be worth it. The power, the glory, you start wars by encouraging men to seek them out, and you're doing the same with your Son. Sons? Whatever."

He couldn't even really hear himself anymore, wind rushing past his ears, the roar of divine blood in his veins as it realized he was in free fall.

Hands reaching upward to mimic grasping in to the air. Was he set to be using a sword? Bigger? Maybe an axe, or some kind of hammer? Like pulling a weapon from his back, he mimicked the first heavy slamming motion. Spinning with a swing of something far larger than himself, watching the mountain and ground and sky swirl around him in a messy panoramic.

Or would he use something daintier? A thrusting motion. No, no, too subtle and shy for his liking. It may have only taken an apple to start the Trojan war, but he'd need something a little more intimidating to truly get things moving. Or maybe he just felt like he wanted the thrill of something that left him a little exposed, but would hurt so much more if it connected.

"I'll sow strife and discord in enemy ranks as I fight. Turn enemy against enemy. I'll seek out something that'll be worth more than the same track trodden over and over again. Where's the glory in playing it safe, when just a little risk makes it feel like such a more vivid reward?" David figured he'd probably have collided by now, but the process of falling never really seemed to be leading anywhere.

"Keep me entertained." Her voice, in his ears, or maybe just some way of talking himself in to taking what was undoubtedly his most dumb risk so far. Signing up for a war for the gods, drinking some goblet full of potential insanity, all because life was far too boring to not jump on an opportunity to truly spice it up.

As he noticed the mountain closing in further and further, the sensation of colliding with hard ground never came. Instead, it was once more sinking in to that abyss, vision tinging like a kaleidoscope of options, and then he was on his back, staring up at the roof of the temple.

[scavengerxscum]

I hear Dagobah is lit.

chatzy wars: the lit awakens 

[gwenshepard]

What happened?

5. Suddenly 5 inches tall.

The fight was over. The Reapers were no longer a threat, thanks in large part to the heroics of Commander Shepard. After the war, the galaxy was slowly getting back to normal.

Shepard was everywhere. They released a movie about her, documentaries, books- all kinds of merchandise. Some businesses just wanted to monopolize on Shepard’s fame, but many donated a large portion of the profits from any Shepard-related product to restoration efforts.

As time went on, her presence in the galaxy dwindled some. She was still certainly there- everyone knew her, everyone had seen Spacer, maybe played the inspired video game- but the big billboards and displays were replaced with new alerts and advertisements, and eventually you were no longer guaranteed to see Shepard no matter which staircase in the Citadel you took.

A salarian, unusually pink and sparkly and usually peppy enough to match his exterior, wasn’t one who had served on her ship or fought alongside her during her final push, but he’d known her. Sirrit had met her once on the Citadel, jabbered her ear off before he even really realized who she was. He sat on the floor of her cabin and played with her dog, babysat the giant fluffball occasionally when she was on the Citadel for meetings or briefings. He wasn’t a part of her team, but he was her friend.

It was hard to believe, sitting at his desk looking at his ‘Spectre Gwendolyn Shepard Collectible Action Figure,’ that that was all he really had left of her.

{{this wasn’t supposed to be entirely depressing but it happened anyway. whoops}}

[gwenshepard]

Sword

salarianglitterbomb

Gwen pushed forward with grim persistence; each hell this war brought on seemed even worse than the last- but this? Fighting the Reapers on Menae or Tuchanka was one thing, but fighting humans on the Citadel was something else entirely. Cerberus had snaked their way into the Citadel right under her nose, the Citadel Council itself infiltrated and betrayed.

It should never have happened, and it stung. Seeing civilians dead was always harder- and when it all seemed so preventable…

Garrus called out occasionally as they patrolled the halls- hoping desperately some of his friends had survived, and Shepard thought of all the civilians- aliens, especially- she’d met over the years.

With each friendly face, her anger grew, and her charges became more forceful, her shots somehow bloodier. She remembered the receptionists that greeted her each day, the officers on patrol, the shop owners and ward tenants and dancers. Of course she couldn’t remember everyone she’d spoken to the past three years, yet many distinct, individual faces burned into her mind.

The quarian on her pilgrimage wrongfully accused, the turian keeper of her favorite shop on the Citadel, the asari waitress at Grunt’s favorite noodle shop, the krogan who desperately wanted to eat a fish from the Presidium pond. She remembered them all fondly; she hoped they had all survived. But even if they did, they had become no more than targets. Their lives meant nothing to Cerberus.

She remembered a salarian, bubbly and optimistic and perfectly pink who helped her find her way around the Citadel markets… He was so full of life, a beacon of hope in the middle of a bleak war.

She thought of him- she refused to believe that anything had happened to him. Surely she’d have noticed… No. She would save him, save civilians like him. She urged herself to fight harder as Cerberus troops threw themselves at her.

She thought of that salarian, Sirrit- his bounce, his baubles, his smile- as she impaled a phantom on their own sword, driving it through their chest with added force from her biotics.

She would stop Cerberus, and then she would stop the Reapers, and she would save the rest of them.

[gwenshepard]

[infxnitum]