Not exactly a type advantage
Jun. 1st, 2016 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
WHO: Gregor, and whoever feels like giving the dork a hand
WHAT: The latest intro in the history of the universe oops
WHEN: Day 1
WHERE: Arriving in Illumina
WARNINGS: None
Frenzied pattering echoed throughout the caverns as his shoes collided with the hard, stone floors. He ran as fast as he could through the darkness, his sharp, panting breaths illuminating the obstacles ahead-- at least to Gregor. Learning echolocation was something he certainly did not regret. His Rager senses had deserted him, and his weapons were nowhere to be found... His sword, his dagger? Where had they gone?
With every step, the cold, penetrating chill of the Underland's deepest reaches cut into him even more, becoming so cold it burned. His skin tingled in the frigid air... He couldn't remember any part of the Underland being this cold. Where was he? Had he ever been there before? Everything seemed so strange and unfamiliar.
Then suddenly, the frozen floor crumbled below him, sending him tumbling into the dark... And the blades rose to meet him, jagged edges making his mind numb with awful, mortal pain--
The boy's eyes snapped open. An endless reach of blinding whiteness awaited him, bright enough to sting.
The cold pain did not fade, even as he awoke... Clearly that had not been simply a part of his dream. Gregor tried to push himself up with one hand... And instead, the sharp tip of a sword cut into the snowdrift. He stared dully at the sight, unable to comprehend it for a long moment. He had a sword? He couldn't feel himself holding anything... Come to think of it, he couldn't feel his hands at all...
... Alarmed, he scrutinized his arm more directly, and did a double-take. The blade was no sword, and he was not clutching it in his hand. Rather, it was his hand. His arm was covered in some kind of strange black armor, shiny and stiff. Slightly below the elbow, the limb morphed into a long, curved blade, like the end of a scythe. He glanced quickly to his other arm, and found it to be the same... Perhaps more bizarrely, the scars which had once marred his skin now gleamed dully on the shell-like covering, almost as if... It was not armor at all... But some kind of exoskeleton.
Heart pounding in his chest, he placed the two blades flat on the snow like a pair of deadly snow shoes, and pushed himself upright... What had happened to him? His entire body seemed to similarly transformed... Gregor dreaded to see what his face looked like. It seemed like something out of one of those awful horror flicks, where some unsuspecting teen was infected with an alien virus and mutated into some sort of psychotic monster thing. This just wasn't something that could really happen. It just wasn't.
It had to be a dream. That was the only answer...
The young Warrior gazed over the frozen landscape, and something caught his eye... A splotch of black against the pure, clean whiteness, laying in the snow. He leaned down... And felt his heart sink. To anyone else, it was just a toy, a simple plastic animal... But... To him...
'Look, it's Ares.' The little statement rung in his mind, spoken by the most innocent, kind little voice he had ever known...
A small plastic bat lay in the snow, one wing obscured by the drift. For a long moment, he remained there in silence, a flood of emotions and questions running through his mind... Where was Boots? Was she safe? Had she been taken here too..? Or had whoever had taken him here merely brought this to taunt him, to remind him of the life, the family, the friends he had left behind?
Would he ever see any of them again?
The howling of the frigid winds snapped him from his thoughts... And Gregor leaned down, carefully grasping the tiny object horizontally between his two scythes. Straightening, he looked back out to the landscape... There was nothing else that stood out, just an endless stretch of blizzard in every direction. He had no idea what way to go, but anywhere was better than here. Hopeless as it was, he began to trudge through the freezing white fluff, the wintery winds cutting through his exoskeletal armor with no resistance... The Warrior-turned-Scyther could already feeling himself becoming numb.
If there was refuge to be had... He hoped he would find it soon. Otherwise, it might be too late.
WHAT: The latest intro in the history of the universe oops
WHEN: Day 1
WHERE: Arriving in Illumina
WARNINGS: None
Frenzied pattering echoed throughout the caverns as his shoes collided with the hard, stone floors. He ran as fast as he could through the darkness, his sharp, panting breaths illuminating the obstacles ahead-- at least to Gregor. Learning echolocation was something he certainly did not regret. His Rager senses had deserted him, and his weapons were nowhere to be found... His sword, his dagger? Where had they gone?
With every step, the cold, penetrating chill of the Underland's deepest reaches cut into him even more, becoming so cold it burned. His skin tingled in the frigid air... He couldn't remember any part of the Underland being this cold. Where was he? Had he ever been there before? Everything seemed so strange and unfamiliar.
Then suddenly, the frozen floor crumbled below him, sending him tumbling into the dark... And the blades rose to meet him, jagged edges making his mind numb with awful, mortal pain--
The boy's eyes snapped open. An endless reach of blinding whiteness awaited him, bright enough to sting.
The cold pain did not fade, even as he awoke... Clearly that had not been simply a part of his dream. Gregor tried to push himself up with one hand... And instead, the sharp tip of a sword cut into the snowdrift. He stared dully at the sight, unable to comprehend it for a long moment. He had a sword? He couldn't feel himself holding anything... Come to think of it, he couldn't feel his hands at all...
... Alarmed, he scrutinized his arm more directly, and did a double-take. The blade was no sword, and he was not clutching it in his hand. Rather, it was his hand. His arm was covered in some kind of strange black armor, shiny and stiff. Slightly below the elbow, the limb morphed into a long, curved blade, like the end of a scythe. He glanced quickly to his other arm, and found it to be the same... Perhaps more bizarrely, the scars which had once marred his skin now gleamed dully on the shell-like covering, almost as if... It was not armor at all... But some kind of exoskeleton.
Heart pounding in his chest, he placed the two blades flat on the snow like a pair of deadly snow shoes, and pushed himself upright... What had happened to him? His entire body seemed to similarly transformed... Gregor dreaded to see what his face looked like. It seemed like something out of one of those awful horror flicks, where some unsuspecting teen was infected with an alien virus and mutated into some sort of psychotic monster thing. This just wasn't something that could really happen. It just wasn't.
It had to be a dream. That was the only answer...
The young Warrior gazed over the frozen landscape, and something caught his eye... A splotch of black against the pure, clean whiteness, laying in the snow. He leaned down... And felt his heart sink. To anyone else, it was just a toy, a simple plastic animal... But... To him...
'Look, it's Ares.' The little statement rung in his mind, spoken by the most innocent, kind little voice he had ever known...
A small plastic bat lay in the snow, one wing obscured by the drift. For a long moment, he remained there in silence, a flood of emotions and questions running through his mind... Where was Boots? Was she safe? Had she been taken here too..? Or had whoever had taken him here merely brought this to taunt him, to remind him of the life, the family, the friends he had left behind?
Would he ever see any of them again?
The howling of the frigid winds snapped him from his thoughts... And Gregor leaned down, carefully grasping the tiny object horizontally between his two scythes. Straightening, he looked back out to the landscape... There was nothing else that stood out, just an endless stretch of blizzard in every direction. He had no idea what way to go, but anywhere was better than here. Hopeless as it was, he began to trudge through the freezing white fluff, the wintery winds cutting through his exoskeletal armor with no resistance... The Warrior-turned-Scyther could already feeling himself becoming numb.
If there was refuge to be had... He hoped he would find it soon. Otherwise, it might be too late.