RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Vanguard International [Issue 15] World of Darkness

"....most entertaining...."

The words hissed from Lord Gaolvulte......Godbolt.....with an ancient dialect slipping across his purple tongue. Leathery skin wrinkled with his smile, worn cracks surrounding narrow, black slits where his eyes should be. He turned, glancing at the rightful heir of the throne in which he sat....

"....don't you agree?"

King Periwind Graivalle.....Grayvale....looked on. His eyes etched in horror, and tragedy. But, his face....his posture....remained sober and calm. Gloved hands tight behind his back, a daunting pride held his stance firmly in check.

"......of course, my......lord...." escaped his mouth.

The words were tight, and precise......emotionless, and, simultaneously, frightening. As if the words themselves were blades, dipped in the blood of anger, and sent forth to haunt any enemy to their very grave.

Gaolvulte may have conquered his kingdom.....but it was apparent to all.....nothing would conquer his soul.

If Godbolt detected this, he said nothing. The wiry crack that some call a 'mouth' remained in its fixed curve of satisfaction, turning to towards the main arena with anticipation.....

Phil sat against the dirt, in a cross-legged position. His blind stare, looking back and forth with concern. Every so often, his eyes would flicker with waves of emotion or sound, cocking his head all around.....like a radio reciever, looking for a clear signal....

Without warning, an undead knight charged past, dragging his broad sword straight through Smith's upper torso. The knight halted his run, turning back with a confused stare.

Nothing had happened.

Phil sat there, still tilting his head at odd angles....with no apparent wounds. The knight roared, swinging the blade above his head, bringing it down to split the man from skull to crotch. The sharp metal jutted into the hard, powdery earth, the knight baffled at what he saw.

The blade had followed the correct path, straight down Smith's body. Yet, even as it still stuck through him, there was no wound, or mark of any kind.

Before the knight could react again, another sword decapitated him effortlessly. The body fell useless, revealing a sweating Adem Different.

"There was no need for that....." Phil said. "....but, thanks."

Adem cocked an eyebrow.

"So, I was right. Mental projection." he said. "You were never captured."

Phil's entire form flickered briefly, like a hologram. Erasmus and the Pagaroth beast locked in a thunderous conflict, their roars and shrieks blanketing the frenzied arena.

"You're a very astute being, Adem Different." Smith smiled, looking off to his upper right.

"Where are you?" he asked, kneeling next to the astral form of the telepath.

"Still in the forest....still embraced....by nature....." he began. "....my connection wi--"

"Phil?" Adem stopped him.

"...yes?"

"We simply do not have time for a lengthy exposition right now."

"Ah." Phil nodded with a grin. "Okay. Well, do me a favor anyway...."

"What?"

"....look out behind you...."

Different launched off his knees, rolling to his left as another sword came down. Missing him, it drove straight through Smith's form. Adem came up onto his feet, using Phil's inadvertent distraction to take the attacker's head off of his shoulders.

"Thank you." the detective nodded.

"Don't mention it." Smith replied. "...and....DUCK!"

Adem dropped, Priest tumbling by overhead.

"This is not looking good...." Adem murmured, spitting a bit of the dirt out of his mouth.

"...I...I just can't crack it...." Phil gritted his teeth.

"What?"

"The equations...." Smith jerked his head to his lower left briefly, then, up again. "....the skies above are crackling with an algorithmic froth......two different versions of a recursive pi...."

He looked back down again. Then, back up.

"...two different signatures...." his eyes narrowed. "....one is weaker.....further away....than the other one....."

Adem cut his eyes left, seeing another attacker running at him. He immediately went into a ground roll, coming back to his feet clutching a second sword. The knight's blade popped with sparks as it met one of Adem's. In a single, smooth motion, Different drove the second into his skull, and then whipped the first one around again. The knight's head slid off the bloodsoaked metal, tumbling across the ground.

"Phillip." Adem said in a breathless pant. "If you have some way to aid us.....now would be a good time...."

"...I'm working on it..." he nodded frantically.

Priest pulled his body from the ground, his teeth gritting with exertion and pain.

Two cracked ribs.....maybe three.... he thought to himself. He looked up to see the enormous gladiator coming at him again, quarter-staffed warhammer in hand.

...faster....faster... he thought, eyes narrowing as the man roared towards him. Still on his knees, he glanced up at the hazy sunlight drifting down through thin clouds. ...come on....come on....

He rolled to his left, the hammer crashing down next to him. The sharp pain of the cracked ribcage flexed his mouth into a grimace. Still, he shot a hard-booted foot into the jaw of the being, the gladiator stumbling back.

Priest could feel it rising. The power. He had been absorbing as much sunlight as he could, from the moment they entered this godforsaken battleground. Coming to his feet, his planted a sharp punch into the attacker's face, merely dazing him. Launching at the figure with a full-bodied tackle, the two hit the ground rolling.

....almost...there.... he thought, feeling the peak of his power cresting.

Their sweat-laden, bloody forms caked in the powdery ground, the gladiator finally threw the injured Vanguardian off of him. Priest hit the ground with a painful grunt, lying there for a few seconds. That was all the time the gladiator needed to grab his hammer, and bring it straight down into Priest's chest.....

.....the hard, granite-like stone of the mallet, shattering like glass......

The gladiator's eyes widened, as he stepped back, still holding the handle of the devastated weapon. Priest rose slowly with a wicked smile.

"The name's Kent...." he said, tilting his own head left with a hard jerk, the audible pops accompanying. ".....Clark Kent....."

A single fist collapsed the gladiator's sternum, the body sliding thirty-seven-feet across the arena floor. Two more swords snapped against his nigh-impervious body, their owners finding quick deaths.

On the other side of the arena, Drake found himself back into a wall. He lurched left, then right, arrows breaking all around him. But, make no mistake....while Marshall's almost superhuman reflexes kept him one step ahead of death....he was, only human. And, he was tiring.

...okay.... he thought to himself. ....zen, baby.....zen....

With that, he jumped back, cocking his foot against the wall, and, with a single leap, flipped over the three nearest attackers. Landing straight into one of the Archers, Marshall quickly grabbed the bow, notching three arrows. Two of the knights caught an arrow-a-piece in the throats, the third shaft missing.

Behind him, an Archer notched a shaft.

In front of him, a knight cocked his sword back.

"...shit..." Drake mumbled.

The two attacks were simultaneous, as time seemed to crawl to a stop. Drake's body instinctively launched into a standing backflip. And, with an inhuman sense of accuracy and precision, the sword grazed past his chest and face, Drake turning his head to the left as the blade sliced the air where his nose should be.........while, at exactly the same time, the arrow shot past the back of his legs, nicking the flailing tip-edge of his jeans.

Hitting the ground, Drake bounced into a somersault-roundhouse, taking the Archer down. He looked back at the knight, laying still with the arrow embedded in his forehead. He looked down at his own ankles, seeing the tear in his jeans.

"Last time I buy boot-cut...." he mumbled, quickly throwing a quiver over his shoulder.

Brianna's left-hook cracked across an Archer's jaw, as she jerked back, avoiding a knight's sword. She followed with a fake-out to her right, coming around with the left again, taking the knight to the ground. Bri grabbed her own knuckles, grimacing in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" she said over and over, clutching her bruised knuckles. "Stupid girl! You don't hit metal with your bare fist!"

Two more knights came at her suddenly, both dropped by twin arrows in the back of the skull.

"You okay?" Drake asked, dropping another knight.

"Another knight....another Archer....over and over and over..." she drolled. "....isn't this getting a little tedious?"

"Couldn't agree more!" Drake replied, firing off two more shots.

In the northern part of the arena, Templar and Raptor fought side-by-side, working their respective weapons with skill and finesse. No more than forty-feet away, Erasmus and the Pagaroth continued their struggle. However, no matter how sharp his talons....no matter how valiantly he protected his master....Erasmus was beginning to weaken. The creature was too much for him.

"Forgive the cowardly act!" Templar grimaced with fiery eyes, launching across the battlefield. "But I will not leave my right arm so unguarded! HAVE AT THEE BEAST!!"

Ed flinched, meeting another sword with his own blade, glancing at Templar's sprint towards the massive creature. He turned his attention back to the twelve knights and three gladiators approaching him.

"Fine...." he sighed. "...more for me..."

The Pagaroth roared in pain, as Templar drove Caliburne's emerald metal deep into its' thigh. It swatted at Mason, turning away from Erasmus' weak form. Templar rolled, and came back to his feet, clipping the beasts along the back of the ankles. Mason swore under his breath as he realized the creature had no equivalent to the human achilles heel....

The Pagaroth backhanded him into the stone wall of the arena with a quick swat. But, even as it did so, the red-lizard-like creature roared in pain again, withdrawing it's hand to find Caliburne embedded in its knuckles. It gripped the sword in sharp teeth, pulling the metal from its knuckles as one might remove a splinter. Mason looked up, half of his face bloody from the impact. Seeing the sword in the creature's mouth, he smiled through a pained expresssion.

"...come on..." he breathed, his boisterous voice returning with every syllable. "....COME ON!!!"

He launched at the creature, barehanded, and full of valiant rage. The Pagaroth rared its mighty fist into the air, bringing it down with a hard impact....

.....into Priest's waiting hands....

The creature and Templar both froze simultaneously, as Priest stood there holding the massive fist at bay. His body coursed with solar energy, muscles taught and heavy like stone, feet slightly embedded in the ground from the impact.

"Care for a little teamwork?" he asked, glancing at Mason.

Templar began to laugh with a menacing chuckle.

"Let us tear this swine by his limbs....AND THEN FEAST ON HIS CORPSE!!! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"

The two Vanguardians ripped into the creature with as much ferocity as they could muster.

No more than fifty-feet away, Ozzy remained pinned to the wall. His face strained red with exertion, trying deperately to budge the enormous hilt of the axe. But, to no avail. It remained firmly embedded in the wall, Ozzy's form buried about four-inches into it as well. The edge of the axe that met his chest sat bent, and curved around his impervious form. However, the rest of the blade was sunk too deeply for him to move. Or breathe. It had been almost ten minutes since he last took a breath. And, Baxter worked furiously, trying to move the handle. To move the blade. He estimated that he had about four more minutes before stasis kicked-in.

He hated 'stasis'. He wasn't sure why it happened, but, he knew when. Any time he couldn't breathe. Any time he was cut off from an atmosphere. It seemed to be some form of adapting response by his body.....a meta-autonomic reaction that would lapse him into a coma-like state until his lungs detected a breathable atmosphere again. And he hated it. Like sleeping too long, he always came out of it off-balance....groggy....his memories scattered and displaced.

And, Ozzy pushed against the handle with all of his strength. And, still, it would not budge. He opened his mouth to yell for help, but, of course, couldn't speak without breathing.

Three minutes.

Damn, he thought.

The rest of the team fought hard and furious, knowing that this was no mere battle. This was no run-of-the-mill, save-the-day fight. This was for survival. There was no quarter asked, or given. And, even as it might look as some of the Vanguardians were gaining the upper hand, it was short-lived at best. For, even as they began to regroup....even as they began to work together....three of the massive iron gates began to slide open....

...revealing nine more Pagaroth creatures.

"Oh...no..." Danny panted from exhaustion, as the remaining knights, gladiators, and Red Archers retreated from the arena.

"You have all fought with vigor, and have entertained me this evening!" Godbolt announced from his throne. "Thus, I give you all quick deaths!"

The Pagaroths began to corall everyone into the middle of the arena.

"Danny?" Raptor asked. "Any bright ideas?"

Hearn said nothing, as the shadows of the creatures loomed over them. He was fresh out of ideas, and, for once.....he was stumped.

Phil, still sitting in the back of the arena, suddenly looked straight up.

"Ah! Ah! I see...I see!" he nodded. "You need a....reciever....something above the neutralizing field....above the arena.....I understand!"

RAPTOR!!

Raptor winced, clutching his temples.

FLY! FLY HIGH!!

Ed didn't question, but, instantly vaulted straight into the air, heading straight up into the hazy skies of sunlight.

"ED?!" Danny yelled, watching Euro shoot into the air.

Behind Godbolt, up on the massive podium, a figure stepped out of the shadows. His face scarred and wizened, one eye sat wider than the other. The widest of the eyes was a pale green, while the other remained a deep blue.

He was Califron, Godbolt's court sorcerer.

"My liege...." he said, staring up at Raptor's form. "....something wild this way comes...."

And, even as Ed broke above the arena, into the open skies, Phil's eyes widened.

"...almost there...."

Miles away, still embraced by nature, the real Phil Smith looked back and forth at the sky.

"....contact..."

Directly above the arena, Raptor's form was suddenly bathed in a violet aura. His body halted in mid-air, as if time were frozen around him. And, this energy that had seemingly been seething unseen above the protected field of the arena, funneled through Raptor, firing straight down into the middle of the battlefield.

There was a massive crack of lighting and thunder, and a single form emerged on the battlefield.

He was tall, and lanky. Dressed in thick, black robes, his long, silken hair matched the color. A high-forehead, sullen cheeks, and skin as ashen as chalk. Glowing green eyes sat centered directly up on Califron.

Califron sneered, throwing his hands up. Azure beams of light snaked from his palms, as his mouth muttered a few 'incanquations'. The newly arrived figure met his stance, violet-hued energy tendrils moving to counter.

"Blasphemer!!" Godbolt yelled at the black-garbed figure. "You dare taunt me with your presence?!!"

"I do not fear you, Gaolvulte...." the obvious sorcerer responded, his voice calm, and low. "....I merely loathe you...."

Time and light bubbled into a hazy globe of distortion, surrounding the fighters within the arena. Danny noticed the same color of energy as the one that had saved them days ago, when they first arrived.

And, a tear in space opened....widening in an oval-shaped, silvery-glowing disc of crackling energy.....

"Enter the Eye, please....I cannot hold it open for long...." the figure announced to Dan.

"Vanguard....retreat!" he ordered.

Everyone immediately began leaping into the portal. Raptor swooped down, diving straight into the light, Dan the last to go through. Hearn suddenly looked back, as if remembering something.

"BAXTER!!" he yelled.

Ozzy was still pinned to the wall. His eyes had become droopy, as he was slowly losing consciousness. He lazily waved his hands towards the man, telling him to go on without him.

"Step through....I cannot hold it open for much longer...." the figure said.

"NO!! I won't leave without Baxter!!"

Priest's arm suddenly shot from the portal, yanking Danny through.

The cloaked figure took a single step, also enetering the Eye. And, without another sound, the portal sealed itself.

It was a few moments, as the occupants of the arena regained their senses. The creatures turned towards Phil's lone form. He smiled and waved, even as the mental image faded into nothingness.

The last few seconds of consciousness, Ozzy saw the Pagaroths turning towards him....

***************************

Somewhere else.....

"Where are we?" Danny asked the cloaked figure.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere Gaolvulte cannot find you...." he replied.

"What's going on?" Drake asked. "Who are you?"

The figure smiled.

"My name is Ghaelon..."