Why German Cafes are Death Traps

Slowly the resonance blade on Sylas began to change to a redish-black, and a soft cackling filled the air. "You don't need to know who I am. Only that I'm going to hunt you down and tear you limb from limb." Dowan looked somewhat scared, but charged, spinning Sylas around so that the blade of soul energy absorbed the shots of boiling ink, the ink evaporating off the hot blade. She attacked, fighting through the line of construct, effectively using her weapon as both an axe and a shield.

The sharks dove back into the ground from whence they'd come, only to leap at the monsters to attack them again. Charim pulled her broom from her hat, sitting on it and watching the show as her bright sharks illuminated the battle. She waved her finger, a line of aqua blue magic following it. "Who I am really doesn't matter. You don't fight a witch unless you're insane. Which you clearly are."

"Uh huh. I'll give you a solid six on the whole 'badass speech' thingy. Decent, but needs work. Now where was I? Ah yes, Crushing your hope. Tell me, how long can you keep this up? I have PLENTY of constructs. Proxy. And I imagine that fighting as fiercely as you have is taking its toll on you. You need to sleep eventually." He said to Sylas and Dowan as they mowed down the remainder. "Oh, and before I forget, you may or may not have heard me say 'proxy' earlier. Want to guess what that means?"

At that moment, out of the back, strode a VERY large raider, covered in a armor like substance. "Fun fact, Meisters have soul resonance, I have Proxy. A VERY useful ability that. What, did you think I sent ALL my constructs out to fight you?"

Spider, meanwhile, rolled his eyes. "Does this guy ever shut up? Anyways, out of ammo, so your on your own. I'll keep that things attacks from hitting the rest of the civilians."

Meanwhile, outside, Charim would hear a chuckling. "Insane? Yes, some WOULD call me insane. I prefer the term 'enlightened'. The name is Ignatius, or, as the public has so kindly dubbed me, Inker. Well, Witch, let me make you an offer. Walk away now, and I will not bother you. My constructs only attacked you because, well, I ordered them to attack EVERYONE. I have no quarrel with the children of hecatate."

Sylas growled, his voice echoing through the room like a tremor. "Dowan. Set me down." Their resonance broke, and she planted him in the ground. He began to glow, a red-ish black. When he completed his transformation, he stood before the proxy in a long black coat, the outer lining black and the inner lining a red. A cloak of madness.

Dowan looked at his soul and covered her mouth. Normally the white-grey of he resonance, it now flared with the blacks and reds of madness. But regardless of the change, she saw that, contrary to previous times when he'd been completely taken over, the madness was coordinating with his soul.

Sylas leaned down, seeming to reach into the fabric of his coat and pulling until he held his weapon form in his hands. He brandished the weapon, twirling it over his head before leveling it with the proxy. He grinned, maybe a little too wide for what would be considered normal. "I am one hundred and ten percent done, Ignatius. Welcome to hell." With that he charged towards combat, laughing madly.

Charim laughed softly, floating over to the power box and continuing her work. "The game doesn't work like that, Ignatius. You attacked me. Now you face the consequences." The ground around each of the constructs began to glow, and Charim gestured towards them with her hand.

"Hell? Ha. Ah hah. Ahahahah. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Dear boy, I have SEEN hell. You? Your just a LITTLE-

The construct would barrel roll out of the way of Sylas's charge before standing back up

"-INSIGNIFICANT-"

It would send a LARGE group of tendrils....at Dowan.

"-FAILURE!"

Meanwhile, outside, Charim would hear a chuckle.

"My dear, thing is, I am already far out of your reach. The worst consequence you could give me is a minor inconvenience. But I am a sporting chap. I'm in town for a few more weeks, feel free to try and hunt me if you wish. Anyways, I have things to attend to. Specifically, another community center, all filled with souls, delicious, and tasty. After that, who knows? Spontaneity is the spice of life, as they do say. Perhaps I will visit a modern art museum, see what passes for culture these days. Anyways, have fun with the constructs. I should give you a fair warning, another batch is headed your way. A BIG batch. Heheheh"

In response to the tendrils sent at Dowan, a line of spears shot from his back, arcing to intercept the ink tendrils. At the same moment, he rushed the proxy, swinging the axe like it was no heavier than some PVC piping, and as expertly as though he'd trained with it since the day he could stand. "Hell? Hell isn't a place you go, Ignatius. Hell is something you carry with you. And I have carried hell with me for so long. Now have it! Have it all!" He swiped the axe down at the proxy. "Take my PAIN!" Another slash across his chest. "Take my ANGER!" He leaped into the air, cutting down on the proxy. "TAKE IT ALL!"

Charim grinned a bit, managing to turn the power back on, and at that exact moment the ink constructs were each swallowed by largeset of shark jaws, gnawed to extinction. "A hunt it is, then. Or..." She looked towards the door, smiling as she lifted higher into the air, one of her sharks flying up to her. She gently caressed its nose. "Perhaps I should leave it to my good friends, the Axe meister and her mad weapon..." With that she flew high into the air, moving above the storm clouds and to the west, headed for England.

Sylas's strikes quickly reduce the proxy to a barely moving state.

"Heheheheh....You talk about hell, but, I can assure you, you know nothing about hell. Over ninety years. Over ninety years I spent trapped, awake, alive, but immobile. And every SINGLE moment was spent with the sound of IT screaming in my ear. Yes....You have no idea what hell is. But believe me, you will, oh how you will. Now then, lets make a little wager. I have two different batches of constructs. One is headed your way, the other is headed to another, more populated storm shelter. You could stay where you are, protect those remaining civilians, while letting me get a very large meal, or you could go out into the cold, freezing night, risk frostbite, and leave those with you to die. Fun wager, eh? And before you get any ideas, phones have been knocked out because of the blizzard."

"I choose... Neither." He ran up to the proxy, jumping on top of it to get a good look at the room as the lights came on. "I am a Death Scythe, Ignatius. My entire body is a weapon. Every inch." With that last word he exploded into the focal point of a star of spears, tearing effortlessly into each of the constructs in the room, tearing them to inky shreds. He left the proxy alone, a line of communication to his enemy. When his attack was complete, he leaped backwards, looking up at the proxy. "I have been to hell. I have lived there, Ignatius, and I am so much more aware of it than you. I accept you challenge. I will hunt you. You will die." With that, he speared the proxy, checking to see if any of the constructs had survived his assault.

Thankfully, none of the constructs were left.

"Crap." Said Spider. "Well, we're in a bit of a pickle. On that note, EVERYONE! Start gathering your goddamn cots! We're going to goddamn barricade this place!" With that, the civilians moved into actions. Spider then turned to Sylas and Dowan. "Okay, these barricades should buy us some time. Unless that ass cuts the power again, then we are ROYALLY screwed. Luckily, I mentioned a generator earlier. The thing is located up in the attic. Could one of you run up there, turn it on? That way, we won't lose our lights. I'd go, but someone needs to stay down here and make sure everything runs smoothly, and I don't know how to damn turn the thing on."

Sylas looked to Dowan, before tunring, his coat swirling behind him. "Please take care of it, Dowan. I need to find his next target."

She nodded, looking a little unsettled, and watched him go. Regardless, she unzipped her coat, revealing a Scottish longsword on her back. She looked to Spider, and shrugged. "He's not always around... or conscious. After the events a weeks ago, I figured I was better off bringing another weapon, just in case."

Sylas stepped out of the community center, and took a deep breath. The air smelled of fresh snow and the wind, but also faintly of ink. He smiled gleefully, stuffing the hands in his coat and following the growing smell of fresh ink through the streets.

"What, the fiasco with the guy in power armor? THAT was a debacle. Had the entire friggen Society in a uproar. Bah. At least the power armor project got more funding."


Meanwhile, the trail Sylas was following would be......erratic, to say the least, what with its many twists and turns. He would also hear a faint chuckling. "Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is sooo delightful, oh let snow let snow let it snow. Wrong time of the year for that song, but it is still so APPROPRIATE."

Sylas began to feel light headed, but not from the temperature. On the contrary, he was quite warm. unseen to him, the internal resonance between himself and his madness was beginning to fluctuate, becoming somewhat unstable. Still, he continued the trail, starting to sing a tune of his own. "I can snap my fingers, turn your glass house into sand. Exorcise your demons with the back of my hand. Shell shocked eyes and paralyzed, you'll finally understand." He stopped, smiling into the darkness. "I'm a bad bad man."

Dowan nodded, drawing the sword and, impressively, holding it in one hand alone. She'd learn to master the nigh uncontrollable strength that was her family legacy, turning it into a powerful force for her to use. She looked to Spider. "Where am I headed?"

Spider pointed at a small door, located in the far corner of the building. "That leads to a hallway. At the end is some stairs. Up the stairs, into the attic, should be s straight path. Word of advice, this building, before it was a community center, was a museum. So, expect to find lots of weird ass shit up there. Anyways, generator is big, loud, and very, very teal colored, so unless your colorblind, shouldn't miss it."



MEANWHILE

"Why the stopping? You haven't caught up with either me or my constructs, you know. Well, your near ONE construct, but considering that construct has quite literally ONE purpose, I am not ENTIRELY sure it counts."

Sylas resumed his trek, still smiling, ready at all time for an ambush. "I'm Canadian. What can I say, I like the snow. Something about the way it catches the light. Or maybe how it's white. Makes hiding something the color of ink pretty difficult..."

She nodded, headed for the stairs to the attic. She proceeded with caution, sword in hand. She opened the door slowly, sure nothing would surprise her as she entered the room. Her grip on her sword tightened, and she drew closer to the very teal object to her right.

The attic was very....cluttered. Several bookshelfs could be seen, as well as boxes piled high with memorabilia. One particular box would catch Dowans eye. On it, a single word is written. 'Ignatius.' Wasn't that the name the Kishin Egg gave? Of course, she would also spot the generator.....which was massive, and very, very, VERY teal.


"What light? Street lights are out, you realize. Also, you can stop being so cagey. While I AM planning something, its not an ambush. No, its much more fascinating. Best part is, its one of those plans that, by the time you figure it out, it will be far too late. Like, say, the knitting of a horrible sweater for a friend you are annoyed at."

The cloak of madness seemed to spread out behind him, creating something of a flare as he continued to soldier on. "Let's talk, Ignatius. Hunter to Hunter. What's the point to all this? You know you can't beat me."

Dowan noticed the box, but her first objective was the generator, so she made her way through the cluttered attic, reaching the control box and flipping switch under the faded On/Off sign. She braced herself for an attack, readying her sword. She'd seen enough horror movies to know what could happen next.

"Thing is, I disagree. I very much think I can beat you. Probably not in a direct confrontation, but lets be serious, a FLY could best me in a direct confrontation. Moving on, however, I am somewhat curious as to whether others would be receptive to my viewpoints. Tell me, have you ever looked at society and wished you could set the slate clean, that you could just wash it all away?"

MEANWHILE, Dowan would hear movement.

"Madame, you well and truly should have stuck with your weapon. Tell me, how well do you think that blade will stack up to a properly proxied raider?"

Sylas looked up at sky, trudging through the growing snow drifts. "A good majority of the 'normal' people of the world consider me a monstrosity. I'm a pariah even by the standards of my subspecies. But to wipe it all away? No. There's no lesson there. That's boring." His weapon form slipped from the blackness of the coat and into his hands, leaving a line beside his trail through the snow.

Dowan gave a smirk. "The edge is sharp as he is. And you'll find that my swing is deadly without a magic weapon in my hands. Besides, this sword was forged with help from Mr. Mifune. It can easily cut through your ink creatures, no matter how thick the armor." She backed until she was backed up against the wall, sword at the ready.

"So, not big on the restarting civilization idea, huh? Meh. So sweat off my bones." The trail would lead into an alley. Something was up. Something was very up.

MEANWHILE

"What, did you forget the projectile vomiting of boiling ink? Bah. Anyways, if I were you, I would head downstairs. Because the batch I sent your way? They are arriving soon. Very soon. Anyways, time to get rid of this construct, its a waste of mental space." With that, out of the shadows lept a single, large raider at Dowan.

Sylas stopped at the entrance to the alley, looking up at the roofs. "Restarting? No. There was a time when there was another part of me who might have agreed with you, but the lines are blurred right now. I'm not even sure if I'm him or me..." He slowly entered the alley, properly on guard.

Dowan dropped down to one knee, bracing her sword so that the construct would fall right onto the tip. Even as it grew closer, she thrust forward, hoping to spear the ink creature.

Dowan would have expertly skewered the ink monster, causing it to fall silent.



"This world is corrupt to its core. The only way it can possibly survive is if civilization is destroyed in its entirety, and given a chance to begin anew. Its only a matter of time until you nuke yourselves to oblivion, or else engineer some sort of incredibly lethal germ."

Sylas trembled for a moment, faltering. Even so, after barely a second he continued on, farther into the alley. "Perhaps... But there will be a lesson to be learned. What you propose... There's no lesson to it. No chance to grow from the problem."

Dowan grabbed the box labeled Ignatius, hurrying down the stairs and back into the center room.

"The irony is, once, I would have agreed. But age has changed my opinions in that regard. I am over a hundred years old, and in my VERY long observation, humans have learned NOTHING. You have not grown wiser as a race, you have merely gotten better at faking it."

Sylas would hear a screeching noise.

"Anyways, let me introduce my newest construct! The Ink Bomber! Also, to make it even more memorable, proxy."


With that, from a corner ahead of him, a burning, armless construct would emerge, give a roar, , and rush at him.

(OOC: Word of advice, this one explodes when it dies. Also, is it possible to make text transparent?)

OOC: *Shrugs* I dunno.

From his shoulders came a flurry of pointed spears, headed right on a collision for the burning construct even as he leaped backwards, spinning the axe in his hands as the spears created a wall ahead of him. "Honestly, if you're going to attempt to attack someone, don't name the thing you're attack them with. I would've had no idea what I was dealing with, but then you went and said "Ink Bomber". I can only assume it's going to explode soon..."

Dowan sprinted into the gymnasium, running towards Spider. "We need to be ready. He's sent another round of those monsters. Do you have something to fight with?"

In response, Spider pulls out a small switchblade. "Not a lot, but more than most of these people." At that moment, Dowan, and everybody else in that building, would hear something slamming on the door, attempting to bust it down. "Well. Looks like our fight is here. EVERYONE! Get into position!"

MEANWHILE

"Thing is, its goal was not, actually, to attack you. Its goal was to slow you down."

The ink bomber would explode violently, releasing a LARGE fireball. A VERY large fireball. Sylas was far enough away to avoid getting hit, luckily, but he might have been knocked down by the kinetic force. However, after it exploded, one would notice a odd gas filling the alley. Filling it VERY quickly.

"I took a trick out of the modern book of warfare. A proxied bomber releases a very potent nerve toxin, nonflammable of course, that causes very nasty short and long term effects. Like paralysis, cancer, hallucinations, degredation of high functions, diahreeha , paranoia, weakened immune system, all sorts of fun things! Exept the diahreea. That's not fun at all."

Sylas cursed, leaping back as quickly as he could. His free arm covered his mouth, and he continued to jump backward, paying no mind to his accurate direction but sure he was headed out of the alley.

Dowan readied her sword, waving people behind her. "Everyone get back. I'll protect you." Her grip tightened on the leather handle of the sword, facing the doors into the gymnasium.