King of Flames, bear down upon the enemy!

Who interrupts…
Was I dreaming…?
…An eternity?
…Lost…
But enough…
Wager your life…
…Provide me
…With …Amusement.
Are you ready?

Ronta-Onta was resting against the fence separating the dock-like platform and the waters that ran beneath Kazham.  He was wildly animated, though Vorithas couldn’t make out what he was saying until he got closer.
“…out of the question!” the thought finished as he crosses his arms over his chest.  His Galka companion, Dodmos, shook his head beneath the hood of his tunic.  “But sir, the Rhinostery has been clamoring for results.  We need to report something.”  The exasperation in Dodmos’ voice was plain.  Vorithas approached the two, pulling out the small tuning fork that Dodmos had given him on their last meeting.

“Tried again, Ronta?”  Vorithas asked with a slight giggle in his voice.  That earned him a glare from the Tarutaru.  “Laugh all you like, Vorithas.  The Prime Avatars are just that for a reason.”  Ronta’s mood was plain, but Vorithas wasn’t here to talk.  He was here to fight.  “Anyway,” Vorithas continued, “I came back to give this new tuning fork a go.”  That earned a grin and an approving nod from Dodmos.  Ronta eased himself back to his feet, shaking his head but preparing a spell all the same.  “I can get you to the Proto-Crystal, but this is a one way ride, Vorithas.  You win or… well, you get the point.”  Vorithas nodded, and Ronta unleashed the spell, whisking him off to the eastern side of Elshimo.

The heat was nearly unbearable, and it crashed down on him the moment he emerged in front of the Proto-Crystal.  They were fascinating constructs.  Great gems that radiated enormous power.  Vortihas wondered how they had escaped notice for so long.  He then shook his head, pushing the academic thoughts from his mind, looking to the tuning fork in his hand.  It was supposed to awaken the Avatar asleep within the crystal.

As he did, he noticed the chamber that he stood in, gauging his tactics for the fight ahead.  No wonder Ronta and the others keep losing.  This space is pretty cramped for a fight.  He took a deep breath and stepped up to the Proto-Crystal.  No more stalling.  Here goes.  As he completed that thought, his hand struck the crystal with the small tuning fork.  A soft ring swept over his ears and began to quickly intensify.  He reached up for the Ruby that hung around his neck and noticed that it was vibrating as well, aiding in intensifying the sound.  He staggered back as the ringing grew almost deafening.  Suddenly, he grew dizzy – his vision blurred and the whole world went black. Continue reading

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Against Super Mutants (part 2)

The figure leapt down to the second floor through a hole that had opened up in what was left of the cement surface of the third floor.  The dust began to obscure the surroundings, and it made it difficult to find the way down.  He looked around for an easier exit, and exhaled heavily.  “Fuck it.”  He shook his head, and leapt down the last fifteen feet to roll into the debris on the ground floor of the tower.  Not giving himself time to rest from the fall, he was back on his feet, the duster he wore over his armor now more white than brown.  He sprinted hard to get out as the final supports collapsed and hundreds of tons of cement collapsed to the ground.  The cloud was enormous, and he dropped to the ground, covering his head to protect himself from any smaller debris that may still fall on him.

It took another minute or three for the cloud to settle enough for decent vision.  The figure sat where he’d landed, pulling his shotgun from the strap that hung it around his waist.  The Brutes and Master were sure to be waiting for him, and he certainly couldn’t let them live after they’d tried to kill him in that manner.  “Too smart for your own good, Mutant.”  He muttered, standing up with the shotgun ready for combat.  The cloud was still clearing, and he was having difficulty finding the three remaining Super Mutants.  “I thought for sure they’d be gloating about having brought that building down.”  He stepped forward cautiously, looking to his left and his right.  “Surely they didn’t run away.  Not like Super Mutants to do -”  Something large caught him across the face, and he staggered, his shotgun clattering across the debris as it fell from his hands.  He fell to his hands and knees, dazed.  “Found you!” One of the Brutes roared, grabbing him by the shoulders and picking up him off the ground.  “Quite a swing… you’ve got.”  The figure shook his head.  Seconds later his vision cleared, and he was staring right into the face of the Brute, that ugly sneer chuckling and beady eyes staring back.  The Brute turned to the direction, the figure assumed, that his friends were and shouted, “Over here! I caught the human!”  The figure took that as his opportunity. Time to see how dumb these things really are,  he thought to himself and tapped the belt attached to his armor.  As before, the armor rendered him invisible to the naked eye, though he remained in the clutches of the Brute.

The Brute turned back to face him, and a look of surprise crept over his face as he did not see what he expected.  The dust lingering in the area kept the illusion from falling so easily at such proximity.  Ignoring the fact that he still had a grip on the human, he opened his hands, and looked around frantically.  “Where did you go!?”  He bellowed, looking to his left and right.  Stifling a laugh as he dropped to the ground silently, the figure fished a frag mine from one of the pockets of his duster and pressed the red button at the center to arm it before dropping it into one of the pouches hanging off the Brute’s belt.  He then moved quickly to get out of the small, but potent, blast radius of the device.  “Right here!”  The other Brute yelled, “Where’s the human!?” Unfortunately, the second Brute didn’t get close enough to be affected by the frag mine.  “That’s what I was asking!”  As the first Brute was finishing yelling at his cohort, the tones from the frag mine grew high and fast.  A second later, it exploded, tearing a hole in the side of the Brute and throwing him like a Behemoth had kicked him in the side.  An agonizing groan was uttered from the Brute before he passed out, likely from shock.  He was as good as dead, anyway, with the amount of blood the figure could see pooling around various torn organs and shattered bones and spilling out over the broken rocks of the ruins.

The second Brute turned to run back to where the Master had been searching for the human when the figure leapt out of the shadows, a straight-bladed sword drawn from within the depths of his duster.  He pressed a button on the hilt and the blade exploded to life with electricity dancing up the blade, bolts jumping to random specks of dust as he pulled it back so his fist leveled  with his shoulder.  A split second later, the human let out a growl that quickly transformed into an enraged yell.  He drove the blade deep into the Brute’s back, wrenching a cry of pain from the monster.  The figure had driven it so deep that it passed clean through, entering just below the shoulder blade and exiting out the other side of the Brute’s rib cage.  However, he hadn’t counted on the intensity of the convulsions from the electrocution and before he could let the sword go, it snapped six inches above the hilt.  His eyes went wide with horror as the Brute dropped to the ground, minor spasms still shaking the body.

“Son of a bitch…”  The human looked at the hilt in his hand.  Then back at the blade that stuck out of the Brute.  He sighed and bent over to try and pull the blade out, gripping it with his gloved hand.  It didn’t budge.  He scowled, and stood up.  He put one of his combat boots up against the broken end of the sword and pressed, trying to dislodge it.  It still wouldn’t move.  He grew annoyed then, and stomped on the broken blade, pressing it further through.  He kicked again, and again, until the broken end of the sword had sunk just below the skin of the Super Mutant.  He stepped on the body to get over it and gripped the sword’s blade tightly, tugging it out of the wound.  The blade freed itself easily now, the wound beginning to ooze again now that the stopgap had been removed.  He twirled the blade in his hand, looking it over and paying careful attention to the broken end.  He sighed, twisting it around again and stabbing it back into the body.

There was no way to repair it.  A Chinese officer’s sword was hard enough to find in the D.C. Wastes, nevemind the parts that were required for the electrical circuitry.  He threw the hilt angrily at the body of the Brute, wedging it into the other shoulder.  “That was my favorite sword, too.”  He crossed his arms and looked around.  It was getting brighter.  Probably just the dust settling further.  “Now where’d your leader get off to?  He’s next on my list.  None of you are getting away.  Especially not after you broke my damn sword.”  He walked slowly over to where the shotgun had fallen when the first Brute had hit him, and knelt down, picking it up.  A quick glance satisfied him that it would still work, and he shouldered it and began searching for the Master.

He found the Super Mutant poking around in the ruins not far from where he’d finished off the two Brutes.  How he hadn’t heard the two of them, or the pop from the frag mine, he’d never know.  The Master had that damn Super Sledge shouldered, kicking debris out of his way.  The human engaged the stealth system in his armor, and once again he vanished from sight.  The plan this time was to finish this quickly, sneak up and end it with one shot to the back of the head.  He had more pressing issues to attend to, and the games with the Super Mutants had lost their appeal.  This would be quick, and then he could move on.  Or so he thought.

As he approached the Master, the Super Mutant suddenly turned and before he could pull the trigger to end the fight before it began, he was knocked off balance by one of the Master’s powerful feet and fell to the ground.  The Super Mutant stopped cold, looking down at the invisible body.  The dust had dispersed enough that at this range the illusion did not work nearly well enough.  The sneer turned into a sadistic grin, and the human felt all the air rush out of him as the Super Mutant’s foot caught him square in the midsection.  He rolled fifteen feet through the debris, losing his shotgun and the stealth generator for his armor in the process.  The Super Mutant stalked after him, picking up the shotgun and crushing it in his massive fist, tossing the scrap aside.  He took the massive Super Sledge in both hands and raised it above his head mid-stride, seeking to drop it on the human’s head and finish him.  The figure came to his senses enough that he was able to roll just out of the way of the hammer strike as it threw debris and a large cloud of dust into the air.  The Master stopped for a moment as he tried to pull the hammer out of the debris.  This would be the human’s opportunity.

Coughing, he got to one knee as the Master freed the hammer.  “Quit squirming and die!” The Super Mutant shouted, bringing the hammer up once more.  Timing would be everything in the next few seconds.  The human waited, visible, as the Master brought the hammer around to swing again.  The swing sought to cave his skull in, but the figure rolled at the very last possible moment, his body jarring slightly from the shockwave of the hammer.  But, the Master had again wedged the hammer into the debris that surrounded him, and the human took this as his signal.  As he rolled, he pulled the sniper rifle from off his back and took aim.  Thunder again rolled around them as the sound from the rifle echoed off the various buildings, bouncing this way and that.  Silence fell over this small region of the D.C. ruins, and the human heard the casing from the last round ring softly off the cement.  The hammer no longer had an owner attached to it.  It stood, stuck in the ground attempting to impersonate Excalibur.  The Super Mutant stood in shock, having staggered back a foot or two, looking down at his chest.  The modified .309 bullet had blown a hole in his chest.  Not where the human was aiming, but it would work all the same.  After a few seconds, the Super Mutant’s body seemed to catch up with his mind, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, falling with a crash into the dust.  The human let the rifle drop beside him, and he lay flat on his back staring up at the roiling clouds that passed over the ruins now.  That was an adventure he’d not soon repeat if he could help it.

Against Super Mutants…

First part of a fanfic I’m working on with a friend.  This is my character, and how he ended up at the meeting ground for the two’s epic battle. 😀

—-

Where’d he go!?” a deep, menacing voice bellowed.  A group of Super Mutants stood in the center of a ruined building.  The north face had long since collapsed, eroded to dust.  The other three walls stood firm, though they were ghosts of their former selves, and several floors had fallen through to leave nothing but a foot or two of ‘standing room’.  The Super Mutants, with their green-brown flesh and hulking, muscular forms, stood out among the ruined grey of the building.  This made them easy targets.

A crack like thunder erupted suddenly from somewhere above them, sending a perfect shot straight through the head of one of the lesser Super Mutants.  The opposite side of his head exploded, splattering another of the nearby monstrosities with brain, blood and bone.  A flash of the shooter was all the Super Mutants were able to get before it vanished behind a fallen piece of wall three stories up.  “There!”  The leader, most likely what Wastelanders referred to as a Master, pointed to the position where the figure had gone into hiding.  The remaining Super Mutants opened fire with their various weapons.  Bullets of various calibers pelted the cement, raining dust and debris from the upper floors as the fallen wall was torn apart. Continue reading

“I Can Hear a Rainbow” (Part VI)

Just a few hours later, Vorithas sat in his Mog House in Jeuno. He looked down at the gem, curious – not for the first time – if he truly wanted this power. He shook his head. No. He’d come too far to stop now. Leaving his bags and his sword, he went out into Lower Jeuno to find a white mage. It didn’t take long before he’d once again secured passage to Dem, in Konschtat. It was there he’d do the hunting for a dust storm — the weather equivalent for earth. His spirits heightened when he reached his destination and was immediately assailed by dust, blown by winds funneled through the mountains. He drew his tunic’s hood over his head. This should be it. He heard the voice for the seventh and final time.

The yellow light, I can feel its power running through me.

The world flashed, blinding Vorithas for a moment as the gem leapt from his hand, floating before him once more. Continue reading

“I Can Hear a Rainbow” (Part V)

Vorithas awoke the following morning with a nudge from the Moogle who watched over his house, and the sunlight streaming in from the window finished the job. His body ached, and fought him every step as he got ready for the day. His mind, however, was already contemplating the day ahead. He hoped in his travels that he would find the final two elements required to unlock the gem he carried with him. After a light breakfast, Vorithas strapped his sword to his belt and shouldered his bags — to which his shoulders protested loudly. He winced slightly, pushing the pain to the back of his mind, and made his way out to meet Seraph.

Seraph was waiting for Vorithas at the Eastgate. This would take them to the east side of Ronfaure and then to Ranguemont Pass. The trip to the entrance took little time, and as they approached the gaping mouth of the cave, Vorithas shivered from the blast of cold air coming from the tunnel. He tried to draw his tunic around him tighter, stepping inside. Continue reading

“I Can Hear a Rainbow” (Part IV)

Several days later, Vorithas found himself home. Real home. In San d’Oria. He was exhausted. Over the past few days he’d covered Konschtat, Valkurm, and La Theine extensively in his hunt for the weather patterns. In his adventures, he’d been incredibly lucky in finding four more of the seven he needed:

—-

The first came when he returned to Konschtat from Pashhow and a monsterous bolt of lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the area in a ghostly purple light. Vorithas had felt super-charged and tingly, as though he could run for miles and miles without stopping. Curiously, he checked the gem, grinning as it was enveloped in a violet light. The second had cleared up a great mystery for him, what the seventh color was. It happened as he left Konschtat and its gloom-coated skies for the Valkurm Dunes — a small desert on the southwestern coast of the continent. The skies were clear, the sunshine beaming down – without a cloud in the sky to block it. He had felt warm, but not overly so. The gem picked up an orange aura, and Vorithas had laughed. Calm, that was the seventh ‘color’. Not an element, but an integral part of the weather patterns. Continue reading

“I Can Hear a Rainbow” (Part III)

Days after the events on Qufim Island, Vorithas sat in his rented Mog House. HIs desk was piled with books and scrolls detailing everything from elemental magic to the weather patterns of Vana’diel to the recorded events of people hearing strange voices. He even had a few books from the Crystal War detailing the daemons who fought alongside the Shadow Lord. Though, he had long since ruled out the voice belonging to a daemon. The book he had open how was useless, and he closed it with a great thud, sending dust flying in all directions.

After cleaning himself off and shaking the dust from his hair, he fumed at the books for their lack of information. Then he noticed that a scroll, cracked and yellowed with age, had fallen to the floor. Annoyed, he hopped down from the chair and picked it up. Unfurling it, he began reading. It detailed, briefly, the work of Windurst’s Optistery Minister during the Crystal War.

This may prove helpful. Vorithas thought as he sat down on his bed to read the scroll. The Minister’s name was Karaha-Baruha, and by the sound of the scroll, he had single-handedly saved Windurst through a forbidden school of magic. It seemed he had unlocked the secrets of the Summoners, a forgotten class of mage, long hidden within and below the towers of Sarutabaruta. Continue reading