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Post by Puck on Sept 12, 2011 18:36:48 GMT -5
Fire raced across the ground, scorching earth and plant alike. It bent and twisted around a tall dark figure with tendrils creeping from its form. The unholy aura of death spilled from the figure. Staining the ground and reducing anything in its radius to a wilted, blackened mass of its former self. Standing opposite him was a women surrounded by thick vines with vicious thorns and towering trees of the oldest, strongest kind. Flowers of every shape and color sprouted, blossomed, and bloomed around her. Crystals and rare metals swirled around her, glinting with arcane light.
Her voice was a soft contralto. It wove through the air, caressing each syllable with the attention the sun would give the eagerly reaching petals of a flower. “You do not belong here defiler, leave at once.” She did not expect the Nether lord to obey and it did not. The vines wrapped around her expanded and pressed out against a wave of liquid black fire. The thick cloying stench of burnt vegetation incited the miniature forest and soon the flame shrouded Demon had his hands full evading and deflecting grasping vines, stampeding trees, ore from the earth and tendrils of sheer green magic doing its best to suppress him.
It took little time for the fires to be doused by the plants, and even less for the thorns to tear the form to pieces. Absorbing the glittering liquid it left behind even as its body dissipated.
“You are no match for us.”====================
A loud buzz fills the air. The sharp scent of pine sol fills Devon's nose as his alarm clock screams for the young man to wake up. Theirs a cottony taste in his mouth, a pounding in his head. The dream is rapidly fading, leaving a sense of apprehension and completion behind. "DEVON" He hears his dad call from downstairs. "ITS TIME FOR MORNING WORKOUT!" \\k so were gonna do the one shot thing until we get 2 more people (waiting on ushis cad and some other person if they come). Ill post the background info and other stuff like npc profiles somewhere or another, will see where.
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Post by Dhark on Sept 12, 2011 19:08:43 GMT -5
Devon groans. Iron Body Technique or not, his ribs were an unhealthy shade of blues and greens from yesterdays training session. Bamboo was not his friend, cool as it was to fight with... it hurt like a mother******, especially when he was under strict orders not to dodge or even attempt to deflect it. Whoever invented this Iron Body technique must have had metal bones and the skin of a rhino. Devon thinks to himself, as he pushes himself up off of the palet. The room was simple. A small section of a large unfinished basement. Damp, dark, and stuffy. Padded matress on the floor, flannel sleeping-bag, and an electric lamp. A practice dummy to the right, and a wall diagram detailing a multitude of pressure points (which Devon had recently gotten as a birthday gift, and was subsequently informed he needed to memorize).
"Yeah. On my way." He projects back in a loud voice. He'd learned early not to yell back. There was a fine line between a loud/projected response and a yelled one. The latter would invariably result in a harsher training regimen. The prior... only sometimes yielded such results.
As he moves, barefoot across the floor, Devon wraps a fresh ace-bandage about his mid-section. There would be no ice, no pain-killers, and no medicinal supplements at all. He would be expected to heal of his own accord, and should he not do so fast enough... the pain would be MUCH more intense when the Iron Body training/punishment began again in two days.
By the time he reaches the stairs, he's taking them two at a time. If he was being called upstairs, it meant today was an outdoor training session. Those were rare this time of year.
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Post by Puck on Sept 13, 2011 5:09:20 GMT -5
As he ascended the stairs a sense of well being and satisfaction he wasn't even aware of left. The higher Devon got the more acute the loss of the feeling became. By the time he reached ground level he was noticeably less content than before.
Dark haired and dull eyed Jared Thomas was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee and a newspaper. A plate of steaming eggs, bacon, and hash browns sat net to a tall glass of orange juice and the days supplements. He was many things, but not neglectful. And as the sport he intended to pit Devon in was carefully regulated he wanted to make sure his son was in tip top condition. And drug free. That mean careful handling of diet and vitamins. This was his big chance. He had invested everything and the pay off had to be worth it.
"Homework, then more Iron Body. Swimming after that" He grunted to his son. "Projectiles this time." He took another sip and nodded to the chair across from him. He was a man of few words and apparently the days had been nearly exhausted.
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Post by Dhark on Sept 14, 2011 1:47:58 GMT -5
Devon numbly takes his seat, knowing full well that even the faintest of grimaces regarding the days training selection would result in things becoming far worse. Words were unnecessary; Just as his father was a man of few words, he expected his son to be of even less inclined to over-speak.
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Post by Puck on Sept 14, 2011 18:52:40 GMT -5
Homework was simple, not terribly easy but simple. Devon understood it and got through it in three hours. Not to bad for six subjects, including a foreign language. Iron body practice was a little more memorable. Jared had set up bamboo polls in the backyard. Centered in the circle of a dirt patch they used for sparing. He positioned his son in the center of the arrangement and loaded a modified training crossbow with a beanbag bolt. Another one was loaded with a special bolt that was tipped with a bamboo reed strapped horizontally across. It was unpleasant but through training Devon was more centered. The sense of welcome comfort returned and he did better at Iron Body than he had in any of his previous lessons. Though Jared said nothing there was a definite glint of pride in his eyes. "Pool, be back in three hours." Whether it was the days competent work, or Jared was getting soft, or just that Devon was being trusted with a little freedom. Whatever happened Devon was allowed to go to the local pool alone. After placing a poolbag on the ground Jared walked in the house and closed the door. He gave Devon three hours to go to the pool, swim his laps and do whatever he wanted within that time at that pool. He did not expect him to dally. .~. After his son made his way to the pool Jared flipped open his laptop and began a series of emails. It was almost time for Jared to take the cages. His investment was finally ready to return. \\im assigning you a color, if you could do your speech text in a shade of brown please |
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Post by Dhark on Sept 14, 2011 19:13:32 GMT -5
Devon uses the vestiges of elation to sprint a fair distance along his path to the pool. His balance suffers only three times in the journey, once from light-headedness, and twice due to inadvertant strain on his bruised ribs. Once a beating like he'd taken today would have bed-ridden him with pain for days... Now, a few hours at most held the brunt of it. By morning the discolored bruising would merely be tender to the poke.
His pool attire is no surprise. Abercrombie trunks, a sleeveless t-shirt (which would only be removed under duress, a set of pre-arranged excuses ready on deck for any prying questions), and the vibram 5 finger shoes he wore whenever necessity demanded he wear shoes at all (plus they felt more... Natural... Than the laminite used to line the pools bottom).
Provided lanes were available, Devon understood the implication of his usual pool-lap workout routine was to be followed. Splashing, socializing, and horseplay were all frowned upon. If no lanes were open, it would be air-deprivation drills (sitting at the pools bottom until green spots appeared, only surfacing at that last possible moment before doing so again after so many breath-stretches).
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Post by Puck on Sept 15, 2011 3:48:14 GMT -5
When Devon enters the pool area at first glance he can immediately note some oddities. For one, though its morning and attendance is already scarce no one is in the pool. Secondly the lifeguard wasn't at his normal post. A second look reveals the source of the oddity.
A petite girl with blue hair was receiving CPR from the handsome lifeguard. By the mutterings of the small crowd this was quite strange. The regulars seem to refer to her as a strong swimmer, definitely capable of professional competition. So how did she nearly drown?
The more Devon looks at her the more he feels drawn to her. A sense of companionship possibly, he feels strangely adjacent, like he's known her for a long time, or at least has been aware of her. An even stranger sensation as he's sure he's never met her.
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Post by Dhark on Sept 15, 2011 21:13:05 GMT -5
Unable to resist the draw, Devon moves numbly towards the dramatic scene...
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Post by Puck on Sept 16, 2011 1:47:18 GMT -5
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Post by Puck on Sept 16, 2011 1:47:35 GMT -5
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