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Post by Lazarus Carter Thu Jun 06, 2013 7:32 am

JANUARY 27TH, 2012

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Famous token last words of Saint Lazarus. Not the first one, that is, the one who died and was reborn and all that Biblical crap. No, this is the Saint Lazarus who, in many an instance from the very day he was born, time and time again narrowly escaped the clutches of death in situations, harrowed by being exposed to a new level of peril, triggered by the sentiment of "it seemed like a good idea at the time". Of course, sometimes, the scale did really vary on both counts of severity and stupidity from "kicking the hornet's nest" to "opening fire at a pack of Demons of a breed he hadn't seen before".

Hellsprinters, specifically. And whilst Lazarus knew he had a natural aptitude for speed, that was nothing compared to these. And though in the past few weeks his apparent prowess for conjuring up bravery and true absolute courage when the situation had called upon it, even when his mind and body had been beaten and sometimes nearly broken time and time again by this place, that did not in the slightest overshadow the fact that the redhead was sometimes lacking in that universally applicable skill of common fucking sense.

The initiative to open fire was his and his alone, and by the time the first shot had came from the end of the smoking barrel of one half of a set of twin pistols, he had realised what a foolish mistake it was. On three counts. First, unlike usually, he hadn't given himself any form of concrete strategy, cover, or anything to give him even a minor tactical advantage. Second, he'd not counted for the fact that moments later, the fallen feline humanoid's friends would come sprinting after him thirsty for his blood, and third, that another dozen would emerge from around the corner of a large-looking boulder not a moment later.

So, Lazarus did the only thing one could in these sorts of situations.

He ran. And oh did he run, sprinting til his breath burnt like diesel and his veins hissed like acid, diving around a corner not a second later to catch a single flickering moment of respite, before he heard the rapid footfalls and the feline hissing from afar, and then, he ran some more. The best part about the Chasm for these sorts of things was that he could easily seek a moment's cover behind a rock or a boulder, fragments of much larger creations embedded in the ground, but as the chase began to move uphill, having gone on for something like the better part of half an hour now, Lazarus managed somehow to suppress the worrying query of just what was on the other side.

And the answer complied absolutely fucking perfectly with a well-known human doctrine known as Murphy's Law. A downhill strait. A downhill strait, leading on silt and gritty mud, an unfathomably wide expanse with not a single wreck or pile of rubble to seek cover on for what might as well have been fucking miles in the distance. Lazarus, hopeful and panting, clambered over the ridge and immediately had his hopes shattered, one sentiment echoing now over the previous one in his mind. "Oh, shit." That pretty much summed it up.

But still he persevered; as persistent as these fuckers were. For at least fifteen of them, he was only a scrawny little bastard, not quite that meaty. But he reckoned that their slim pickings back over by the boulder what felt like an eternity ago, and the fact that he'd shed the blood of their late single comrade and pack member, probably meant that, like most of the less-intelligent Demons he'd met, they were hungry. Oh, and that clown girl. She'd been pretty hungry too. Fucking creep.

With a dive onto the gentle slope, he began to run; but the footfalls and tremors from behind him and a rising unanimous snarl of anticipation only swelled and grew from behind him in volume. It was at this point that exasperation truly took hold, and, every bone, muscle, and sinew in his body absolutely deprived of all forms of energy, stricken with some incomprehensible exhaustion, he ground to a halt and spun around. And as predicted, one by one, the small, blurry dots appeared on the horizon, sprinting towards him and growing larger in his vision.

A lesser Lazarus would have surrendered and given in then and there, a younger Lazarus would have let his knees buckle and fear take him, admitting that he'd had a good run but kicking the hornet's nest was really a fucking stupid idea. But the interstate, the multiplex, the carnival; all of that had changed him. And as his fists tightened and his knuckles whitened, the teenage redhead let the pistols fall from his hands, and evaporate into an ethereal and intangible white energy before they so much as hit the ground, flashing in an instant gently back into his being. Part of the deal when you had those weird spirit gun things, whatever they were.

This Lazarus was stronger. This changed Lazarus knew that he had seen far worse; he had seen in a land of Demons other humans turn upon him, shoot at he and his kin and comrades, and he had seen in a perverse and twisted land of humans some archaic energy having twisted the laws and creations he knew of an old world and set them viciously against him. A few big cat men on the horizon? Fuck it. It was nothing. It wouldn't kill him - and what didn't kill you only made you fucking stronger.

So he called upon an ability he'd only tapped into once before, in a state he couldn't fully recall at the carnival. Slightly less angry, and just as exasperated, the same adrenaline fired around his veins; the same adrenaline he was now completely used to. "Oh, will you JUST FUCK OFF!?" And that same flush welled up in Lazarus once more, and in the last three words, that same energy formed at his gaping mouth, a great ball of intangible off-red intensity, and launched from there into a hollow, moving ring, which moved at the same insane speeds he could barely recall from the other day in the carnival.

The Hellsprinters were moving at such velocities that the ring of energy oncoming was one they couldn't even consider a threat, most, let alone realise that stopping was the best idea. Demons were stubborn at the best of times - and couple that with the same insane speed and they were just bound to burn out. The ring, having widened tremendously from its creation, struck the centre six and knocked them back with such concussive force and momentum, releasing a deafening noise in a detonation of pure energy, the impact seemingly sending all six of them flying back up onto the ridge.

With that, crimson eyes widening at the way he'd just recalled this technique as if it had been drilled into him from birth and essentially turned himself into a living conduit, a sonic energy cannon, a grand mechanism forged solely for only wreaking havoc in the form of those concussive energy rings... Lazarus grinned, and grit-tooth determination twinkled in that scarlet glare. His head moved onto a mechanical pivot, targeting first the Hellsprinters on the far left, the remainder of the group only just showing signs of grinding down to a halt, as he opened his mouth abruptly, and, seemingly, to trigger this ability, screamed at the top of his lungs in a vicious obscenity once more. "GO," The ring widened and struck another three with an explosive thwump, knocking them to the floor and presumably killing them. "FUCK," His neck moved along to the right. Another energy ring. Another four down. "YOURSELVES!" Once more his neck snapped along and targeted the stragglers, a single pair remaining who had fully ceased their advances on the slope. None were free, none had escaped; and the tables had been so swiftly turned.

Lazarus grinned as he watched the smokeless remnants of the scene of this true explosion of pure, concussive, momentous energy. His panting ceased, and he ran a hand through his hair with an incredulous, startled chuckle, shaking away the last of his fear. "Jesus..." He murmured, looking at the destructive handiwork he'd just wreaked - fifteen Demons, he'd killed, all by himself. All with this newfound ability, this devastating sonic cannon he'd fashioned from his own intuition and the glimmering lights he saw now naturally in this alternate dimension.

That synaesthesia, the gentle light that came in time with every sonic thrum around him, he'd acclimatised to; and it had emanated in unison with the muzzle flashes of his pistols, and even in his war cries and screams - but Lazarus had never preempted that he'd be able to manipulate it now that it had simply become unnoticeable, second nature, even. That he'd be able to conjure this... this... "Echo Trigger." He murmured, the name a sonic whisper and imprint on his very psyche.

With that, the redhead flexed his fingers and shrugged. Mess with the king and you die, he figured. Turning around and looking off into the distance, from this far down the slope, he saw in the distance a landscape littered with broken spires and a wreckage of skyscrapers anymore - but between it all was an ocean. Murky black waters, choppy waves, a cold though not unbearable chill racking his body, a gentle mist seeming to follow him wherever he went, but the true size of this sea was just... impossible, like nothing he'd ever seen. This was a perfectly good vantage point, and from above, near the horizon, taking one last look back to the place he'd come from, he saw that little spits of land flicked around it as far as the eye could see, but the water was clearly the dominant geographical feature here.

"Huh." This terrain change seemed not to faze the boy in the white jacket, who simply shrugged and jabbed his hands into his pockets, starting to make his descent, leaving the region behind him with the corpses of fifteen of those cat-Demon things. "I guess, Dorothy, we ain't in Kansas anymore." The redhead remarked dryly as he keeled off the bottom of the slope and the shore proper came into view.


"Wipe the blood from your halo."

|| English (yellowgreen) || Demon (dodgerblue) ||

Lazarus Carter
Lazarus Carter

Posts : 979
Join date : 2013-04-18
Age : 26
Location : Washington D.C. or London

Case File
Power Level: 3
Character Faction: Nephilim
Player: Ross

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Post by Divus Thu Jun 06, 2013 8:26 am


    Historia Calamitatum [Divus/Closed] 35b6sdd

      D I V U S

        Amidst the infernal ruins and charred, barren landscape, the only sight awaiting Divus's eyes were the malevolent scavengers of Hell. They were kept company only by other feral wretches and the formations of stones, sand and carrion which littered the scarce edges of land bordered by both the great black sea and the great blackness of the Chasm. Theirs was a miserable existence, not even worth pitying.

        Divus kept his place atop a tall, odd shape of rock that was probably once a pillar long ago. That or the remnants of an ancient wall... nearly sixty feet in the air, he was laying on his side and elbow, one leg crossed over the other as they both hang from the edge of the modestly sized monolith of tanned stone. From here he saw much - and in a dump such as this, he had little need to fear being seen, though he knew for sure that if he came much closer to the Chasm he would be risking much.

        Calm, grey violet eyes moved with apparent boredom, casting their gaze over the land below and the waters beyond. He could see the chasm from here and the distance across it... though, he tried very hard not to look in that particular direction. His heart filled with scorn and wrath each time he set his eyes on the path to Lucifer - the architect of this despicable world, whose minions had dragged so many down into. His fists tightened with the tension he felt, releasing it very slowly.

        A welcome distraction met Divus's observations; Hellspinters were a staple menace of Inferis, but it was not often he saw one thud against the ground with it's brains splattered unto the dirt. The spectacle of intrigue drew Divus's eyes to the would-be assailant... a simple red haired humanoid, who seemed to radiate no demonic presence whatsoever. Some seconds passed before Divus's eyes widened at the sheer number of Hellsprinters pursuing the mortal without mercy - and it was then that he realized, if he did nothing, a human just might die.

        Unwilling to feel another life fall on his conscious, Divus outstretched his left arm and tightened his white coat around his shoulders, spewing blood from his limb. It gushed from beneath the fingernails, ripping through wherever it could find soft, thin skin. The black liquid floated in mid-air, twisting itself into eight distinct masses, as a fog-like mass of it began to convulse in the air into the shape of a misty symbol. It became clear in time, a depiction of a black rising phoenix - an Apparatus sigil.

        Moments after the symbolic black firebird showed itself and subsequently faded, the octet of blood-masses suddenly shifted into solid form, lengthening and carving themselves into weaponry reminiscent of swords... thorns and sharp spikes covered their hilts, making it unfeasible to wield the black glass weapons by hand, but a single blade which remained Divus took a different turn from the others.

        All of that singular blade's spines, thorns and sharp edges pointed in one direction, facing the same path as the tip of the sword they belonged to. Lowering the blade, he set his feet upon it's flat side, abandoning the ruined pillar he had sat upon previously to board the floating glass platform he'd just created... the other seven remained near, one close to his hand, five moving around him in a gentle circular motion, and one slightly sluggish blade hovering around twenty feet behind.

        The blade carrying Divus's body began to move forward; he crouched upon the blade, resting a single hand upon it's surface as it continued to accelerate, until the sound of wind rushing past his ears was almost deafening. The whistling shriek of seven obsidian swords could also be heard clearly from behind, assuming a formation not unlike a flock of birds, with just one straggler hanging behind by a modest distance.

        While the pack of psychopathic feline demon-morphs pursued their mortal prey, eight shapes began to descend slowly from behind them, perhaps appearing as black birds in the distance... but their motion was too geometric to have been natural, disqualifying that possibility to the educated observer. But the Hellsprinters held their own and Divus was still too far from them to really do much, though there were two demons behind the main group of fifteen, who had likely been late to start their pursuit. Divus motioned his left hand in their direction, and the blade which had remained closest to his limb swooped down and accelerated past him, moving as a shapeless black streak driving ever ahead, nearing the stragglers.

        The first Hellsprinter didn't see it coming; it had tunnel vision on the redheaded mortal, not suspecting for a moment that something was chasing it. Divus remained a full fifty feet above in the air, but the sword he hand sent forward was much lower, nearly falling to the ground as it neatly soared through the creature's left ankle.

        The feline monster's foot was entirely severed by the glass edge that had struck it, driven through by high speed more than anything. As the second Hellsprinter turned at the sound of pain and anguish, the blade which had claimed the other's foot shoved itself through the Hellspinter's skull, ending the despicable life it had.

        The footless Hellsprinter could no longer run much less walk, and as Divus flew over it upon his onyx-shaded sword, six similar weapons skewered the body of the helpless demon below in a cruel volley. Meanwhile, Divus continued soaring forward, rejoining with the sword that had claimed the fallen feline's foot as the others resumed their path, though not quite fast enough to reach their master.

        Divus worried for a moment if one free blade would be enough to fend off the Hellsprinter pack, and it was by no means enough to kill more than one or two or them before the others would probably jump high enough to swipe at him, but it seemed he would have no need of doing so. He slowly came to a halt as he saw the bodies of the tiger-like demons being flung helplessly - most lifelessly - into the wretched air. It was a pleasant surprise, though Divus was nearly stabbed in the back by one of his swords from behind in making such an abrupt stop. The blade ceased it's motion just an inch from his right shoulder...

        He was a good eighty feet from the redhead, probably enough to be undetected assuming the mortal in question did not look towards Divus. He did not wish to come any closer to the chasm than he already was now - he was not yet powerful enough to be here, and could go no further without dangerous risk being involved every step of the way. But if that mortal did look back before or during his descent, he would see the porcelain white demon from afar smiling. "Auspicious." Divus would compliment, in the language of angels rather than devils, as he began to float backwards atop the black blade of glass he stood upon...


Posts : 9
Join date : 2013-05-27
Age : 28

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Post by Lazarus Carter Thu Jun 06, 2013 9:48 am

The advances through this new region lead Lazarus into a set of revelations and epiphanies regarding this new territory that were positively overwhelming. He'd always known, really, beneath it all, that this place, this Hell was seemingly neverending and probably had no real borders save for a sea of flames and molten rock as far as the eye could lend itself to, but this was a different region altogether. So close to the other, as well; the territory had so swiftly gone from sparse, rocky, and dry, to almost sopping wet and terrain-wise, completely different. This sort of diversity was a geographical marvel.

For a few steps he walked, and the terrain beneath his feet changed with every step. The further he advanced into this new region, bridging gaps and opening up a slew of horizons, the ground beneath his feet turned softer and sandier with every waking step. It wasn't until he drew up to the shoreline that he realised just how different this place was to the Chasm he felt he knew so well compared, barely separated by a mile of higher ground, essentially just a... big... hill. It felt even more stupid than the border disputes from countries he knew; an imaginary line in sand which was the same on one side as it was on the other. The diversity here didn't matter; this was Hell, but to him, it was clear just where he was - and though it was barely a mile or so from the place he actually knew, he felt as if he'd been traveling for... hours.

Though the adrenaline may have been a contributory factor, he felt truly weary. His body felt drained, his muscles and bones aching and panging with true exhaustion, but above all else, the major tiredness seemed to stem from his mind. He felt mentally... tired. Spiritually, too. When you took a moment to stop, think about it, and really breathe; all this Inferis shit really took its toll on everybody. "Hm." Pausing at the shoreline, Lazarus' rhythmic footsteps stopped, and he crouched down to touch the water as it lapped up as part of that eternal cycle, washing up and pulling back, the gentle froth of the dissolving white horses lapping over his fingers.

The water was dark, but not for being filled with dirt or seaweed; and when it had washed over the Hunter's fingers, a chill went down his very spine and racked his very essence - whilst it wasn't completely dissuading and startling, it was noticeable, and took him some time to process the link between the two variables, causing him to shuffle backwards in the off-grey sand of what seemed to be essentially just a depressing beach, no-one on either side of this particular stretch of quaint, silent coast for as far as Laz could see. A few Demon congregations on the fringes maybe, but barely specks in the distance on the horizon. For the most part: he was alone.

And that was really what weighed on the Hunter's soul above all else.

Lowering down for a moment and letting out a rather disconcerting and unfitting yawn for the bleak yet somehow comfortable landscape, the redhead set his backside down upon the sand, and pulled his knees up towards him, dragging shallow furrows in grey sand, and wrapping his hands around them. This was a break for his body; but really, above everything... it was... solace. The first time in Inferis that he'd gotten so much as a single iota, a fragment of a millisecond- no, a nanosecond, where he didn't feel like he was being stalked, pursued, or have his living existence endangered in any way.

Ironically, he seemed to have found... peace. Here. In this place. A bleak sense of depressing solace; and it was enveloping, suffocating, and would probably drain him further in the long run; but sitting by a beach all alone and just taking in the sights around him gave Laz a startling peace of mind. He'd found peace. And as funny as it was to think, stifling a silent chuckle, his eyelids heavy as he let out another sigh, that he'd found something more than just peace. "Just what're we gonna do with you, eh, Lazarus?" The sprinter murmured rhetorically to himself. Yeah. Something more than peace.

He'd found his own little slice of Heaven - here in Hell.


"Wipe the blood from your halo."

|| English (yellowgreen) || Demon (dodgerblue) ||

Lazarus Carter
Lazarus Carter

Posts : 979
Join date : 2013-04-18
Age : 26
Location : Washington D.C. or London

Case File
Power Level: 3
Character Faction: Nephilim
Player: Ross

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