The elevator whirls to a stop, and you step off into the smooth 'concrete' floor of the hangar. The usual hustle and bustle of the flight attendants and material handlers is absent. A quiet stillness fills the spacious hall. William and Emma stand at the very end. At the sudden drop off that plunges into the abyss below the fortress. A cold wind blows across the halls.
William stands tall and proud. His body is bulky with synthetic muscle beneath the bulging demonic armor. Black fur hangs down his back, and his gold and red hair flutters in the breeze. A Warmachine Cutter hilt hangs from his belt, and impossibly blue eyes track you as you approach. There is no mirth in them. No savage joy.
Emma stands quietly, a distortion of her elder brother. A clean leather duster falls around her slender figure. The coat is strapped tightly with a shield belt and a glimmering gun labeled 'For Polly.' Her icey blue eyes find you the same moment William's do.
Their willpowers test at your own briefly, then withdraw.
"Pheonix." Emma begins, shifting to rest a hand on her belt.
"Emeralda." You reply, curt and calm. "What was so important that I had to interrupt my rest to see you?"
"Our Ancestors are concerned. So are we."
"About?"
Emma withdraws her datapad and tosses it to you.
...Ichor runs into the overflowing gutters beneath your feet. You stand coated in black. Triumphant. You look down at Eric as your voice echoes through the streets. "Deus Vult."...
...Your human form gives way to fire, encapsulated by rings of blood-red iron, green gas and molten glass. An iron mask glows with great heat, twisting into a savage, insane grin. The elements swirl around you with chaotic abandon as seven great wings of red fire sprout from your back. Taller than the towering buildings...you drift through the streets. A spear of iron twists itself to life into an outstretched hand...
...an explosion fills the screen. Radiation creates static, but there you stand, unaffected...
...you hover above the camp. A swirling ball of Dust, fire, metal, and gas -- masked with iron...
"There's a problem with this?" You question, with a blank face.
"Cephie explained the concept of [Amaranthe] to us. So did the Ancestors. We know about the cryo-coffins. We know that you did something you shouldn't."
"Is this a trial, Emeralda?"
"Not yet."
[4] Your temper flares. Your wings burst from your back, all fifty-five meters of them, burning into the building. They fill the hangar with heat. Emma doesn't flinch. The metal and stone begin to hiss where the reaction comes into contact. You keep enough sense to cut the heat before any structural damage is done, but you struggle to remain in control. Spikes of iron and glass begin to twist themselves from the floor.
[5] Emma doesn't flinch. Her wings unfurl. Pure and white and clean. Smaller, only reaching twice her size, but she doesn't flinch at your show of force. William flexes, and the demonic mask seals over his face.
"You
dare to judge me?! After all I've done for you?!" You shout with your fist clenching at your side. Your fingernails dig into the flesh of your palm.
[3] William is tensing. The demonic armor's eyes are gleaming red. His muscles twist -- adrenaline and stimulants are no doubt flooding his system.
Cephie swaggers out from behind you, masking her willpower. She's clad in the black armor of her Line. All scandalous reveal and sharp edges. She tilts her head as she looks between the three of you with mild curiosity. "Do you need help, Pheobe?" She asks, innocently.
[30 vs 13] You slam a wall of silicon into her, sending her sprawling -- a strange collar tumbles out of her hand and onto the floor in front of you.
[23] You keep enough sense to not rip your three 'friends' apart, but only just. The sound of ancient drums echoes in your ears -- matching your pounding heart.
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Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 224161 times)