xinoehp512

"I prefer to call it persistence."

"I can't help it! You're just so interesting."

That was a typo lol fixed.

"You know, I get the feeling you don't like me very much."

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. "All right, men, women," he said. "I'd like to congratulate you all on another successful-" 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 enthraller 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 months 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 in the Multiverse. 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.

Bacon sighed. "Another thing you don't want to talk about, huh?"

"Well, that was the idea! Fortunately enough he didn't seem to notice me. I imagine you know just how scary Ennullers can be, if you've crossed paths with them before."

Bacon flew into the air. "You have a history with an Ennuller?" he asked, intrigued.

Like anti-sound, more or less. What do you mean? It's not the only thing Ennullers can do, no. Are you looking for a specific capability?

Memory is a fickle thing, said the guide wistfully. Erif stepped up. "Where is the inspector? Can you take us to him?" The guide looked at Erif sadly. I cannot, she said. I serve as a welcome, and a warning. This is not a place of life, but of death. Do not tread here unless you have no other path forwards. Erif's expression only grew more determined. The guide bowed her head. So be it. Perhaps you will find your answer in the unreal space, that place between.

Bacon hid in Shoe's hair and was very, very quiet.

The guide was there. Welcome, she said, her voice soft, her hair drifting slowly. And to you, Sequence- welcome back.

Xino struck. He struck again. Each strike defined lines of brilliant light that blocked off the Witherlord's retreat. Each strike caused the Witherlord to shrink back further, his power dissipating. "That is for Trewee," Xino snarled. With a mighty swing, a beam of light shot from the spear, pinning the Witherlord in place. The dark figure gasped, black smoke rising up from the place where the light pierced his chest and instantly evaporating. He cringed backwards as Xino stepped towards him, spear aglow. "Any last words?" asked the last luxsprite, readying the final blow. The Witherlord looked up at Xino, coughing weakly. And then he smiled. "It's funny," he said. "Just when you think you have it all... you lose it." Xino frowned, pausing. Those words... they sounded familiar, for some reason. Had he heard them before...? Deep within him, something clicked. And Xino remembered. "It's funny," the Witherlord had said, as his power flowed from the cage into Xino. "Just when you think you have it all... you lose it." And then Xino had been lost in a sea of fractured, chaotic light. He'd watched in horror as the Witherlord escaped, destroying the Core Crystal- and with it, any hope for the luxsprites to withstand the withergeists. And it had all been Xino's fault.

Bacon made a puzzled fly expression, pulled out his recorder pen, and played back his exact words.

"Yup! Ennullers are freaky."

"I can be quiet!" said Bacon. "Besides, it's not you I'm worried about noticing me! It's that instructor of Beosta's."

"I couldn't resist watching in!" said Bacon. "What can I say; I'm a curious soul. And I'm a fly to be less noticeable!"

"Psst," said a voice in Shoe's ear. It was Bacon, in the form of a Bacon fly.

Happy 70K posts everyone!

A basket of bacon-related goods appeared. Sorry for the monster! Looks like it was nothing you couldn't handle, though. Call me when you're done with your instructor. Ennullers give me the heebie-jeebies.

Erif waited impatiently for Ista and Tull to respond. @SpiritOfWrath

"...huh," said Bacon. "I'm not sure how to respond to that, being a Narrator and all."

"Shall I make a factory?" asked Bacon.

"I'm willing to figure that out when we get there," growled Erif.

"I don't care about whoever this Onyx is. All I know is that the inspector is the one responsible for the curse on my homeland, and that he works for Onyx."