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Post by jokester on Mar 31, 2011 12:10:03 GMT
Xylia suddenly and for no apparent reason gets a brief vision of that manxome foe from earlier, and something to do with a dwarf and a stetson. This vision is then suddenly cut short as her concentration is broken and all eight of her senses go haywire - her vision blurs; her ears are filled with ringing; she can no longer feel the ground under her feet or any of the things she was carrying; her nose is filled with an acrid, metallic smell that blocks out all else; her sense of magic becomes poorly defined and unreadable; her telepathy is blocked out by a constant, all-encompassing mental image of a snowstorm; and her ability to sense stuff about reality shuts down entirely.
This only lasts a short while before it all clears up and she finds herself in the same position as before, free of both weird visions and uncomfortable sensory blindness.
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Post by Snowfire on Mar 31, 2011 18:16:48 GMT
. . .
I add a tastefully designed cap to my outfit. It has an interior layer between the cloth of a layer of foamed aluminium sandwiched between two thin sheets of aluminium foil.
"Please, lead the way."
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Post by jokester on Mar 31, 2011 19:46:18 GMT
The woman nods and walks down the stairs. There is the sound of a door opening, and some bright white light escapes from down below. Then the door closes and the light is blocked out again.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 31, 2011 20:28:39 GMT
Well, lets go through the door then...
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Post by jokester on Apr 1, 2011 12:47:41 GMT
The assmebled bunch obey Talhoffer's suggestion. The door closes behind them with a vaguely ominous thunk. This certainly does not look like a science department. More like an office. there's just a single room, with three things in it. The second is a big, old-school filing cabinet. The third is a desk, with a big, leather-bound file on it entitled "Holloway Sanitorium: Year Seventeen, Vol I".
The first is an angel.
Well, a topless muscular humanoid figure with white, swan-like wings cascading down from his shoulderblades, a perfect smile and shiney white eyes that fill the room with light.
So, basically, an angel.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Apr 1, 2011 13:52:51 GMT
"Well hello there."
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Post by Snowfire on Apr 1, 2011 18:43:27 GMT
I raise an eyebrow.
"Well, this is interesting. Hello."
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Post by jokester on Apr 2, 2011 18:23:09 GMT
The angel moves towards the group. Xylia is hit with a sense of otherworldly weirdness - this thing doesn't originate in this reality. It's not quite as otherworldly as those things that attacked the ship before, but it's still significant. Talhoffer, by contrast, feels a sudden, all-consuming repulsion - like what happens when he sees a holy symbol, but a whole lot worse. He's just fast enough to clamp his hands over his eyes and shrink away before it physically harms him. The angel keeps coming, hands and wings outstretched as if to embrace the group.
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Post by Snowfire on Apr 2, 2011 20:13:14 GMT
I step forward, raising my hand, palm facing the angel.
"No closer please. Not until I know who and what you are." I say gently.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Apr 2, 2011 23:14:32 GMT
I quickly whip out my 'Cool Shades' TM. and put them on, protecting me from the sight. I shall also switch to my female form, as that is slightly more resistant to holyness...
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Post by jokester on Apr 3, 2011 19:42:24 GMT
The angel lurches forward and embraces Xylia, curling his wings around her.
The young woman who showed the group into the room is intrigued by the sight of Talhoffer's transformation, and steps forward to peer closer.
"That's interesting," she notes. "Where does that come from?"
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Apr 3, 2011 21:37:02 GMT
"I'm not sure, exactly. There was this thing a while back with an old man, two teaspoons and a border collie... Since then, I've been able to do this."
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Post by Snowfire on Apr 4, 2011 0:26:51 GMT
Ok, I'm going to amplify my reality-sense with magic for a little so that I can do a quick scan of this 'angel'. But I'm going to be careful.
I hold my hand between my body and the angel's, regardless of the arms or wings around me, holding him back from a true hug. Then I let go of the basic containment on my sword. Liquid energy flows down as the bracelet begins to reshape, holding mid-way through transformation in as a ball of swirling magic around my hand.
"Sir, please step back. I'm not hugely comfortable with people I don't know hugging me."
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Post by jokester on Apr 4, 2011 10:32:34 GMT
Before Xylia can do anything more, she is crippled by a sudden flow of otherworldly energy through her, apparently emulating from the angel's wingtips, through her back and up into the base of her brain. Images and concepts flash through her brain too fast for her to actually register them, but she seems to pick up on a running theme - something to do with music, and being rejected because you don't do it properly. At the same time, her mind is filled with music which, had she been from a different world, she might have recognised as the piano part to 'Total Eclipse of the Heart'.
Talhoffer, of course, gets nothing of this, only seeing that Xylia has frozen in the spot and started to tremble slightly, apparently unable to move.
Tink tinkles something anxious-sounding, and Hod shrugs. "Don't look at me," he says, vaguely disinterestedly. "Dat hat keeps stuff from gettin out as well as in."
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Apr 5, 2011 1:59:45 GMT
"Hey, back off." I say, turning to face the angel and pointing my sword at it. "If you are what you look like, this blade may be familiar to you, it has slain enough of your kind to be legend. Oh, and I should point out that it was in my hands at the time... Well, except for a short while when it was thrown half-way across the battlefield, only to embed itself in a wheel of cheese."
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Post by jokester on Apr 5, 2011 10:29:44 GMT
The angel releases Xylia and allows her to fall to the floor, turning to smile at Talhoffer. He holds his arms out for a hug.
"Well, I'm pro gettin-da-hell-outa-here while he's distracted," Hod comments. Tink tinkles. Wotri wails and tries to hide behind Talhoffer.
Xylia, meanwhile, finds herself too distracted by her own mind to register what's going on outside - there's something in there; some personality that isn't her, with thoughts that don't belong. And the more she tries not to think of those thoughts, to get away from them, the stronger and less ignorable the thoughts become.
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Post by Snowfire on Apr 5, 2011 15:16:13 GMT
I stop trying to ignore the thoughts and face them. And as I fell the hat was dislodged from my head due to an insecure fastening.
Who are you.
I send at the personality inside me.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Apr 5, 2011 16:49:43 GMT
Meanwhile, I place the point of my blade on the exposed wingjoint.
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Post by jokester on Apr 6, 2011 12:17:31 GMT
The angel stops and looks to its wing. It takes a hesitant step back; suddenly he seems unsure.
Meanwhile, inside Xylia's head, a very strange scene has unfolded. Xylia herself - or some inner consciousness, since technically Xylia herself is currently lying down in the real world - seems to be standing on a cloud, surrounded by freakish rainbow light. The piano music fills the scene, almost overpowering. Something that looks very much like the angel is floating in front of her, flapping his wings slowly to remain in position.
"I am the Damned," he says, and his voice is oddly melodious - it's hard, actually, to tell whether he's even speaking or singing. "Banished from my choir because they disliked my technique, forced to eke out a sad, quiet existence down here. But I'm building a new choir now, to rival theirs! Won't you join it?"
And at the same time, Xylia can sense all those minds below her in the hierarchy of the hivemind - there aren't many, granted, because Titania distrusts her so much. But those that there are are changing subtlely - she can feel the music bleeding into them, from her mind to theirs.
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Post by Snowfire on Apr 6, 2011 14:22:06 GMT
The angel stops and looks to its wing. It takes a hesitant step back; suddenly he seems unsure.
Meanwhile, inside Xylia's head, a very strange scene has unfolded. Xylia herself - or some inner consciousness, since technically Xylia herself is currently lying down in the real world - seems to be standing on a cloud, surrounded by freakish rainbow light. The piano music fills the scene, almost overpowering. Something that looks very much like the angel is floating in front of her, flapping his wings slowly to remain in position.
"I am the Damned," he says, and his voice is oddly melodious - it's hard, actually, to tell whether he's even speaking or singing. "Banished from my choir because they disliked my technique, forced to eke out a sad, quiet existence down here. But I'm building a new choir now, to rival theirs! Won't you join it?"
And at the same time, Xylia can sense all those minds below her in the hierarchy of the hivemind - there aren't many, granted, because Titania distrusts her so much. But those that there are are changing subtlely - she can feel the music bleeding into them, from her mind to theirs.
I pause for a moment, fortifying my mental presence against the song and pushing it back. "You make an interesting offer." I reply, reaching into my bag and pulling a handful of Skittles from within. I smile slightly at the angel, appearing to consider his offer. Then my face hardens.
"But you have given me no reason to join you." I continue cuttingly. "And I do not appreciate those who use coercion to add to their own power. Tiny arcs of electricity spark and curl around my fingertips as I speak and I reach out to Tink and Hod.
Tell Talhoffer to incapacitate the angel if he can. If he can't, kill it.
"What is your offer?
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Apr 6, 2011 15:00:58 GMT
Receiving the relayed message, I stab forward to split the wing joint, then cut open the arm muscle and back-cut the other arm...
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Post by jokester on Apr 6, 2011 15:37:07 GMT
That wing disintegrates, feathers fluttering to the ground. Divine being or no, the angel seems pretty human in biology, as the arms that are slashed open up just as you'd expect and begin bleeding profusely.
The woman is horrified, and backs into the corner of the room. The door opens and two people in full fencing gear enter, walking in perfect synchronicity with each other, their faces completely obscured, each bearing a rapier at the ready.
The angel hurls himself at Talhoffer from one side, swiping his remaining wing at him like an angry swan, while the fencers approach from the other.
And inside Xylia's head, the mental image of the angel leaps at her, it's wingspan growing suddenly, large enough to engulf her own mental image completely and smother it...
...and is rather unceremoniously jerked back by a furry hand around the throat.
"Don't ask me why I'm even doing this," sighs the mental image of Hod that has suddenly and inexplicably appeared behind the angel, with a curious mix of self-pity and self-loathing. "Poysonally, I still can't see why we didn't just run when we had the chance."
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Post by Snowfire on Apr 6, 2011 15:51:27 GMT
"Hod, once we entered this place, I don't think we had that chance. I could be wrong," I shrug apologetically, "but that's a moot point right now. Thank you for your assistance."
I draw my sword from its bracelet and place it at the angel's throat, my other hand shimmering with rainbow flame as I wave it over the angel. Bindings shimmer into being around the angel, locking its arms to its sides and tethering its wings to the 'ground'. These aren't illusions, nor are they drawing on my magic. This thing has attacked my mind and every fairy has defences against such things. It got through the outer layers by virtue of bypassing the mental conduit for a physical one. But it's still within range of my activate mental defences. I just brought a portion of them online.
"Now." I say coldly to the bound and trapped angel. "Why don't you stop whatever you're doing outside of here and stand down before I separate that pretty little head of yours from the rest of your body."
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Apr 6, 2011 16:09:12 GMT
Meanwhile, in the real world, I block the beating wing with a Crown guard, then slash it open. I kick the angel in the chest as I turn to the fencers, raising the blade into Right Ox. "Oh joy, I do so love rapier... as an opponent's style." Descending diagonal strike into Fool, cutting through the one on the right and ending up between the ankles of the other, followed by a quick rising cut into Longpoint. Essentially, I've just hit him hard between the legs.
Notes: Crown is a 2H guard where the hilt is held in front of the face, with the cross guard protecting the forehead. It should be sufficient to block a flailing wing, and allows for a swift rending cut. Right Ox involves holding the hilt to the right of the head with the blade pointing forwards, toward the opponent. It provides a great deal of protection from unexpected attacks as well as being ideal for the diagonal descending strike (which I think is fairly self explanatory.) Fool is the guard whereby the sword is held pointing down, on the center line, only really useful for threatening the, erm, delicate organs. Hence my final cut. Even if they have no genitals, it would still damage them severely, though not nearly as comically. Oh, and Longpoint does exactly what it says on the tin. It's basically holding the sword horizontally straight out in front of you. In this case, with the blade embedded in his chest.
Fencing lesson over...
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Post by jokester on Apr 6, 2011 16:58:13 GMT
Unfortunately, the angel has apparently had a lot of experience of combatting mental defences. It's mental self sings one operatic note and the bindings shatter. It sings another and Xylia's sword begins to vibrate uncomfortably in her hand. The mental image of Hod looks briefly unsure of himself, suddenly finding himself the only thing currently holding down a freaking angel.
"Uh... ya might wanna try something betta," he advises Xylia, almost nervously.
In the real world, Talhoffer finds he/she has underestimated the strength of an angel's wing - an adult swan can only break your arm, a toned angel like this can probably shatter an entire skeleton at once - luckily, this particular angel mainly seemed to want to touch Talhoffer rather than obliterate him/her, so beyond a slight pain from having his/her own sword knocked into his/her face, he/she's basically ok. The follow-up slash works, however, and half of the wing bursts into dead feathers. His/her kick to the chest probably does as much damage to Talhoffer as it does to the angel - fella seems to have a heck of a solid six-pack on him - but the angel is unbalanced by his lack of wings and he stumbles backwards. The next cut works fine, the sword actually cutting surprisingly easily through the fencer, who doesn't even bother to parry. Neither does the second fencer, and the sword thuds into his crotch.
Two weird things become apparent at this point. Firstly, the fencers aren't registering any pain. Secondly, what's pouring from their wounds isn't blood, but gold dust.
And in the next instant it becomes clear why the two fencers didn't parry - they were keeping their swords free. Two rapiers move with insane speed and, against all laws of probability, slice right through Talhoffer's neck, meeting in the middle.
Then the one with gold dust pouring from his groin releases his sword and tears the mask from his face, which turns out to look pretty human underneath, except for his eyes, which are glowing like the angel's. He spits gold dust and holds up his hands for silence. His eyes flicker.
"Sorry, guys, sorry, can we just time out for a sec while I just check something?" He looks down at the sword which, somehow, is still lodged firmly in his groinal regions, kind-of hanging there. "OOOOOOWW!" He screams. The eerie light in his eyes goes out. He pivots, and punches the other fencer, his fist tearing into the other one's wound and his hand ripping dowanwards, tearing the wound open further and spilling gold dust everywhere. The other fencer collapses.
Talhoffer's head topples from his/her shoulders and rolls across the floor. He/she has just about enough time to swear, before his/her Undead soul is dragged out of its body.
Tink makes a noise somewhere between a wail and a tinkle, flits over to the angel and, with a flap of her wings, launches a globule of dust at him. The angel suddenly rockets upwards, smashes his head off the ceiling and stays there.
And once again, you two have been tragically seperated by Death (well, a three-way combination of Death, me and the Random Number Generator on my computer, but whatever), so let's head back to the personal boards for a bit...
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Post by jokester on Oct 24, 2011 19:09:18 GMT
Back for more, huh?
As Talhoffer stands, looking into the screen of the phone, Xylia gives an expression of concentrated frustration, and disappears.
A pale, sharp-fingernailed hand explodes into existence just next to the massive misplaced bulkhead with a burst of generic energy, and Gibbs-slaps Talhoffer. Immediately followed, with another burst, by the rest of Vampire-Xylia. Talhoffer turns.
"What... just happened?"
"I think," Victor theorises, hopping excitedly forwards, "she just teleported across the planet through sheer force of will, directed through a crystallised humour complex in F-dimenional byspace. Newton the Eyesack did theorise that Rule-of-Funny-powered superluminal travel should be possible, but actual instances are very poorly-documented..."
The broken and semi-conscious girl on the floor frowns, her lips moving silently for a while, before she gives up. "Can your crazy goshdarn universe slow down for a second?!" she objects.
For the briefest of seconds, something somewhere inside Xylia seemingly tries to shout "St-" but is gone before she can even be sure it was real.
"Still freezing down here!" objects the increasingly-frustrated blonde human in the water a short distance from the boat.
"And, having demonstrated the theories of Newton to a tee, we now move back onto Sod," Victor sighs.
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Post by Snowfire on Oct 24, 2011 19:46:46 GMT
"Talhoffer, I would advise you try to help you apparent friend before she freezes to death" I say shortly, kneeling down beside the girl. "But before you do that, would you happen to have a bag of Skittles on you? I mean, any type of sweet could do, but Skittles are easier." I turn my gaze back to the teleporting girl and sigh. "Geez, when you decide to get hurt, you decide to get hurt don't you..." I mutter, before turning to Victor. "Hey! You! Do you happen to have first aid kit on this boat? Bandages and antibiotics perhaps? Maybe even a nano-reconstruction suite - dare I hope?"
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Post by jokester on Oct 24, 2011 20:11:46 GMT
A quick search reveals no Skittles currently amongst the possessions of Talhoffer or Victor (who, admittedly, should probably have predicted that result considering he had to ask Xylia to describe 'Skittles' before he knew what he was looking for).
The girl on the deck, however, carefully puts the hand on the least-damaged side of her body into a front pocket of the backpack/teleporter/whatever, and produces a little paper bag which spills out of her hand onto the deck, revealing five unidentified small hard brown sugared items; ten equally-small pale circles with, engraved on them, a red heart each and some variation on the words 'I love you'; and, yes, a skittle. A purple one.
"Remind me of home," the girl explains, almost sheepishly. "But... had to eat a lot of them when I was stuck on a frozen space-rock for... I dunno, some time."
Victor shrugs. "Haven't really looked. I don't have any on me, cos, well, the people I'm used to practising on don't require much more than stitched up or occasionally soldered back together, and maybe a week's course of virgin blood and lay off the fatty organs for a while. I'll look in the hold, but the gentlemen we took this from didn't seem much like the kind to think ahead, so I doubt they'll have equipped their tub properly."
He disappears into the hold - or what remains of it. Immediately followed by a sudden cry of "Damn! And I left my nanomachine generator in my other jacket!"
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Post by Snowfire on Oct 24, 2011 21:04:46 GMT
"I'll try not to use all of them, but you're in a pretty bad state." I say gently. "May I?" I reach out, picking out the purple Skittle and five of the love hearts - if she lets me which I presume she will - and then turn to the scientists.
"Ok, I need a twenty micro-amp surge of energy at a frequency of two terahertz for one millisecond - or thereabouts," I point at the Skittle at the centre of my hand , "focused on this."
I blink for a second, focusing myself in preparation for the surge and....
((over to you))
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Post by jokester on Oct 24, 2011 21:50:03 GMT
The girl screws shut her eyes. Talhoffer looks around for a moment, as if trying to work out how to supply this energy. Victor sticks his head out of the hold with a cry of "I think I found a nanite! It's right... uh... it's here somewhere..."
Talhoffer turns to respond, and in doing so his/her/its sword scrapes along the bulkhead surface. The friction creates a tiny spark, which arcs through the air and hits the purple Skittle.
And the small handful of sweets dissolves into a ball of pretty and, for some reason, yellow energy.
"Ok, let's try this," Xylia mutters, trying to marshall the energy with the magic centres of a body that doesn't feel familiar. She places her other hand carefully on the girl's forehead.
The girl begins to glow slightly. The gaping hole in her back shrinks, the edges smoothing over. Her skeleton seems to straighten itself out. Some of the colour returns to her flesh, and some of the other colour (greens and sickly yellows) fade.
She's still not going to get her face onto any magazine covers, except maybe a medical journal as the 'before' pic. But it doesn't look like she's going to die. At least, not today. Almost certainly not this week, either. She looks like someone who, barring accidents or relapses, will last as long as she needs to.
She shakes herself slightly.
"Tha-" she manages, before something goes wrong and Xylia's hand ignites like Magnesium, and the girl hops backwards with a high-pitched yelp. Xylia shakes her hand to extinguish it, and eventually stubs it out against the bulkhead.
"Sorry. Residual unusable energy. Impurities and so on, because they mostly weren't Skittles."
For a few seconds, in a localised area of half a metre squared, it begins raining very small ducks.
"...yeah, it also sometimes does that."
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