xinoehp512

Jaxevist cut up and down the rows of workers and drones. Nobody lifted a finger to stop him. None even tried to run away. They just kept on doing their jobs until they were killed by a swift stroke from his sword. These ones didn't dissolve, of course. Why destroy the body when you could raise it for your own purposes? He hated himself for being the vessel of this destruction. But he had no choice, no control. He couldn't even shudder as their insectile bodies crunched under his feet. In no time at all, the entire village was dead. Jaxevist stood in the center, sword hand dangling, stunned by just how easy it had been. But this was only the beginning. The sword crackled with dark power as each and every fallen Hyxali rose, bidden by the sword's command to join the ranks of Jaxevist's army.

All of a sudden, the ship lurched to a stop. Then, slowly, it began to rise into the air. Jaxevist ran to the side of the ship, fighting the acceleration, wondering what in the name of Unreality was going on. He slammed into the side and craned his head over the edge. From the waves was rising a monstrous, holedoid figure with ocean-blue skin and eyes. The Crimson Tide sat cupped within its giant, webbed hands held high above its head. "By all the threads," whispered Venyera from behind him. "What is that thing?" "Fate only knows," muttered Jaxevist. "Unless Xirost-" "It's the Moon," cut in Xirost. "The Moon?" replied Venyera incredulously. "It's kind of small for a moon, don't you think?" "Not a planetary moon. It's the name that the native inhabitants of this subverse have given to this creature. It's a legendary protector said to roam the coastline searching for and destroying those who intend harm." "If we don't intend harm, will it let us go?" asked Venyera hopefully. "If its goal is protecting..." "'Protector' my huma," said Jaxevist grimly. "See the eyes? Those are thrall-rings if I've ever seen them. Black thrall-rings." Silence fell among the three for a moment as the others stared at the creatures eyes, rapidly rising relative to the ship as the creature lowered its hands. "Silence and shadows," whispered Xirost. "You're right." "What are we going to do?" asked Venyera softly. "Maybe the Hyxali...?" "I doubt even flight would get us away from that thing. Unless Xirost thinks otherwise." Xirost exhaled. "Correct, sir. Unfortunately. The Moon would swat us out of the air like a fly. Or, actually, not like a fly- we'd be far easier to hit." Venyera shuddered. "Do you have to call it the Moon? It makes it sound like we're under attack from space or something." "Don't blame me. I'm not the one who named it." "Yes, but-" "Enough with the bickering," interrupted Jaxevist. "Xirost, the master of this... thing would have to be in the city, correct?" Xirost hesitated, then nodded. "The mental fortitude of a creature of this size would likely require the controlling holed to be somewhere in the city, yes." "Good," said Jaxevist, narrowing his eyes with determination. "Venyera, ready the Yellows. We're going to see if we can't kill a few more of those Blacks before we leave this place." ****** “Assassin!” called the sciiox. “I come bearing a truce!” "A truce?" exclaimed Venyera incredulously. "With Blacks?" Jaxevist would normally have agreed with her, but they were currently being held three hundred feet in the air by a giant sea-creature. Wait, he signed. Talk first. Locate enthraller, perhaps? Then attack. "A truce?" he called out to the sciiox. "You'll forgive me if I am - let's say- a bit skeptical, given the reputation of your masters." The sciiox made a coughing sound. The equivalent of a sigh among their kind, according to Xirost. "My master has decided to put revenge aside in favor of potential alliance. Apparently, he is in need of someone with your... skills." "He wants me to do a job?" Jaxevist shouted, genuinely surprised. "I killed his family!" The sciiox flicked his tail- the equivalent of a shrug. "He must have been impressed." Jaxevist leaned back from the railing, astonished. He knew that the Black members of his kind were cold, but this... this was something else. He shivered. He didn't even want to know what a holed like that would ask of him. Found them? he signed. I think so, signed Venyera. See that Black a little farther back down the dock? Jaxevist glanced at the figure out of the corner of his eye. Yes. We good to go?Venyera nodded subtly and retreated. Excellent, thought Jaxevist. Out loud, he called down to the sciiox, stalling for time. "How much are you willing to pay for my service? I don't come cheap." The sciiox flicked his tail again. "My master's plans are his alone. But I would think that sparing your life should be sufficient." Come, on Venyera, thought Jaxevist. "I'm a Red. My life is cheap." "Oh?" The sciiox smiled. "Are you sure?" Jaxevist heard a rumble beginning behind him and smiled in relief. "Very." From behind him, a loud voice cried out "Fire!" With that, dozens of fireballs exploded fowards, towards the dock, the people on the dock, and the entire rest of the city. As the fiery projectiles of death detonated, the grip on the ship slackened. Now! thought Jaxevist forcefully at the dozens of Hyxali drones in the hull. With a hum, their wings sprang open and began to beat in sync. With a pop! the valves in the bottom of the ship opened, letting the thrust push down on the now-freed giant's hand and lifting the ship into the air. Jaxevist laughed at the dumbfounded expressions of the sciiox on the docks below. "So long, suckers!" he cried. "See you never! I hope you all-" "SIR!" screamed Xirost. "THE MOON-" All of a sudden, something crashed into the ship. Holed of all colors went flying, most of which luckily got a grip on ropes, planks, or some other attached item. Most; but not Jaxevist, who flipped over the railing and tumbled towards the ground below. ----- Jaxevist awoke with clouded vision. He tried to reach up and clear away, but his hand wouldn't respond. That's odd, he thought deliriously. From his midsection came a pulse of energy that washed over his body, healing cuts and fixing bones. He sat up, groaning, as pain spiked through his body before fading to a dull ache. "Oh, yes," he muttered. "Healing is a wonderful power." "I bet it is," said a voice wryly from above him. Jaxevist jerked his head up. There was the sciiox, looking remarkably calm considering the circumstances. Besides him stood a couple other sciiox- presumably some of his inferiors. Up close, Jakevist couldn't help noticing the black thrall-rings banding each of their irises, marks of their forced servitude to a Black holed. Likely they were servants to Aridith himself. "So," said the sciiox. "How about that truce?" "Truce?" said Jaxevist slowly, searching the skies for his ship. At last he caught a glimpse of it- far out to sea, flying slowly away. "Yes," continued the sciiox. "Considering your current situation, perhaps you will reconsider our offer?" Jaxevist scanned the dock, but there was no easy way to escape- and he was too weak to escape anyways. There was only one thing left he could do. "Well?" prodded the sciiox. In response, Jaxevist raised a trembling hand and summoned his sword of gleaming steel and glowing veins of azure. The Sword of Shadows. The Blade of Quidan. "There will be no truce," he said quietly. "I will kill you all." ----- Shadow consumed Jaxevist's vision as he spun like a whirlwind through the guards, cutting them down like a reaper cuts wheat. Behind him the fallen began to rise again, the dark power of his sword possessing their bodies and turning them against their former comrades. As his thoughts sank beneath mindless destruction, Jaxevist swept through the streets of the city at the head of an army, murdering everyone who stood in his way. ----- Jaxevist stood in the middle of the throne room, surrounded by corpses. He looked around, dizzy with shock. So many dead... he thought. Thank goodness his crew had escaped. If he'd killed them as well... He turned from the pile of corpses to leave and begin making his way to his prearranged rendezvous point when -suddenly- the door slammed shut, crashing from the ceiling to the floor. Jaxevist jerked to a stop, staring at the door for a moment, then whirled around. Dark essence came from everywhere, pouring into the dead king. His eyes flew open, injuries resealing with some dark substance - as though he were Red instead of Black. In moments, it was finished. Aridith pulled himself to his feet as though nothing had happened. Jaxevist backed up in horror, slamming into the doors. "Wha..? How...?" The king frowned. “It will take more than the Blade of Quidan to fell me. Such trifling attempts are a waste of time.” Jaxevist looked at his blade. Such power... With this, a man could face an army- and win. It had taken him monts of searching to find it, years of training to wield it. Even still, he could only use it alone for fear he would destroy any who fought with him. And it still wasn't enough. “I have a proposition,” Aridith said. "You think I'd listen to you?" growled Jaxevist. "You're a monster. Your entire race is arrogant and heartless beyond belief. And you're the most heartless of them all. In fact-" Aridith calmly raised a hand and made a motion towards Jaxevist. Dark vines constricted around the assassin's throat, strangling his words unsaid. "I said," continued Aridith calmly. "I have a proposition for you." Jaxevist struggled against the choking vines, but they were wound too tight. "Fine," he rapsed at last. "Fire away." Aridith waved and the vines retreated. Jaxevist gasped, relieved. The monarch waited a few seconds for his breathing to subside, then continued. "Take that sword. Raze Universe Hexagon in my name. The people are weak and afraid—of no use to me." Jaxevist gaped. "The Hyxali? You want me to kill the Hyxali?" Aridith gazed at him impassively. "No," said Jaxevist, shaking his head. "I will do no such thing. The Hyxali are practically the most peaceful beings on the Threads. You can walk in and take a few dozen drones or workers and they won't even raise an alarm. Heck, they'll volunteer. The only thing they'll ever get upset over is if you try to bother one of their queens or princesses- whom they need to survive as a species! There is literally no reason to kill them!" "I disagree." Aridith leaned forward from the throne, showing eyes devoid of light. "Leave now, and do as I command." All of sudden, Jaxevist felt an enormous pressure grip his eyes. He gasped, falling to his knees, as two black thrall-rings manifested in his irises - one in each eye. "Impossible," he whispered. Aridith waved his hand, and a portal opened between King and assassin. Against his will, Jaxevist stepped through.

Jaxevist made a rude sign at the mainland as the Crimson Tide sailed away from the dock. He hated- no, he despised the Stonelands. He'd only been there once- before this, of course- but once had been enough. He'd sworn never to return, both to himself and to his crew, and he'd been certain that- unlike many of his 'promises' - this one would hold. But, of course, nothing could stand the weight of gold. Not for Jaxevist. Probably should've charged more, he thought as he scrubbed himself down, washing every last trace of the black dye he'd used to disguise his red coloration out of his skin. He'd forgotten just how awful the place was. Harsh landscape, harsher weather, and the most arrogant holed in all the world? He'd earned every one of those thirty thousand nelkas he'd been paid for this job. At least he'd gotten to kill people this time. Never again, he promised himself, then quickly amended that to Never again for less than fifty thousand. Lightning sparked as the stormwraith screeched in fury. Furious tornadoes of water spun as two great powers fought for the sky. Xinoehp cowered on the wet stone ground, near all light gone, drowning in the sea of shadow. A dark figure watched silently, tentacles of shadow stretching forth from his blackened soul.

The 203rd decade will begin in 2021, true. But society doesn't care about the 203rd decade; they care about the 2020's decade, which begins in 2020. A decade is any series of 10 years. But both perspectives use the decimal system, so I'm not sure what you're trying to say there.

It gave him an acidic temperament.

Aqua went silent again. Here, she said at last, in an oddly hushed tone. With that, Sophie felt a brush of power flood her soul. Use... use this.

Words aren't enough, gasped Aqua. Need... power... She trailed off. For a moment, there was silence save for the drumming of the rain. At last, Aqua spoke. There is... something... that we could try, she said hesitantly. I'd need your help- but only a little.

Nothing we can do but this, grunted Aqua, reaching up and pulling on the clouds again as hard as she could. 'Geists- have- Narrativium.

A barely audible hum began to resonate within the forcefield. Static crackled in the air. We die, said Aqua without emotion. The hum intensified. Static flashed faster and faster as charge built up until -at last- it was enough. Thunder rolled. Light flashed. Electricity crackled. But at the end of it, Aqua and Sophie still stood in the forcefield, alive and relatively unhurt. What? said Aqua. I don't... She trailed off, looking straight ahead to the outside of the forcefield. Michael stood on the barren, slick, ground, hand held high, looking slightly singed. As Aqua stared, he turned, meeting her gaze. He nodded, making a 'get on with it' motion with his other hand. Thank Fate, whispered Aqua.

Yes, gasped Aqua, her breathing (or whatever it was she was doing) returning to normal. It's working! The clouds- Her words were interrupted by a deafening wave of thunder. High up in the sky, for a split second, a psuedo-face appeared - formed of brilliant streams of electricity. Nooo... groaned Aqua in almost a wail.

The rain began to intensify. More, gasped Aqua. We need... more... But up above, withergeists had taken notice. They began to drift towards Aqua and Sophie with their blank faces and twisted cries. The federal government decided they were going to have to apprehend him before he destroyed the world.

Wish ideas. A hundred wish ideas.

Nekorb stepped back from the pool. "I think we should split it up among ourselves- or, at least, some of it. It's too valuable to just give away."

Granite was putting up a real fight against the withergeists in Jaywalk's abandoned castle. Losing, yes- but fighting nonetheless.

Fine, then. I wish for a hundred mundane, stupid wishes.

Not really the withergeists- actual, literal clouds. Aqua inhaled deeply, honing her focus. Simple, she said. We make it rain. With that, she pulled on the clouds... ... and a light rain began to fall.

A dark tendril snaked through the air and wrapped around the wrist that held the sword. With a revolting squelch, it melted into her essence- Voices assaulted her. -ᴏꜰ ᴜs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴜs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ- -death, destruction, decay, dissolution- -ᴏꜰ ᴜs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴜs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ- -corruption, infection, contagion, impurity- -ᴏꜰ ᴜs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴜs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ- -burning, withering, dying, screaming- -ᴏꜰ ᴜs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴜs ᴏꜰ ᴜs ᴏꜰ ᴜs- As darkness fell, Aqua shifted her alien gaze upwards, towards the clouds. Help? she thought, just in case someone was listening. Please? And that's when she realized something. The clouds, she gasped. They're blocking out the sun!

The Nightwatcher decides that Scrabble demons must have taken over your tongue. (Or keyboard, or touchscreen, or whatever). She gives you a hexahedron polyhedral squiggle instead. Granted. But be warned; the food may be summoned from anywhere. In any sized container. And you have no control over it. So each time you do so, there's a chance you'll summon an entire shipping crate full of food into your hands. I wish for the permission to fulfil boons without asking for a boon in turn.

Due to a misunderstanding, they used Tom Joebob's Skeleton Keys to do the deeds. This isn't right, muttered Aqua. It shouldn't be happening like this. She vibrated in agitation, misting the air slightly. Xinoehp is supposed to be the exact weakness of the withergeists. He should be kicking dark twisted butt, not... not. She hesitated. Something's wrong.

Is there an Alleyverse language? I figured there was something about the land that makes it so that everyone can automagically understand each other.

Xinoehp cut through tendril after tendril, but always more seemed to pour in. Withy stood by, hands clasped behind his back, watching with detached interest. And the sky darkened further.

They touched it and it crumbled into dust.