Sojo vs Strongarm RP

The air was thick with the smell of melted asphalt. There was an unusual heat settled within a confined space, the space of this abandoned city of Centralia, Pennsylvania. I've come here for the only thing that I have come to love in this life, my privacy. Seems as if the whole world has something against me. It's like...I try and I try and I try, and nothing. If the result is good, nothing. It's what I am to everyone...Nothing. No one banishes me, no one invites me. I'm just a thing to ignore and completely pretend not to exist.

I'm at the point now, where silence and my own psyche are my best friends. They provide me with chatter, and comfort. Centralia has an alluring presence about it, stories of poltergiest activity, and the very real inferno that blazes constantly below my very feet.

Looking around I see the homes and buildings that used to be inhabited by people. I walk down the streets, filled with empty cars and litter, overgrown grass and shrubbery. The red and beige of the rows of townhouses remind me of my hometown, but the placidity of this place is the antithesis of the bustling small township of Alexandria. It's been years since anyone had seen this place, and it was the perfect place for me. I wipe a few of the whitened hairs away from my face, as I come upon the door of an empty townhouse. It's locked...Why take the time to lock it? I ask myself. With the simple swish of my hand black vapor seep into the maplewood door, and it is gone. Immediately, I know why the door had been locked. The beauty, preserved in time. Every little thing in this home was astonishing. There were paintings, classic and abstract, the furniture was embroidered with brass filigree. But it smelled of oldness. The owners must have locked the door, because they thought they would be able to come back, to go back to normal.

I laughed on the inside at the thought of normalcy. Things like what happened here, are the iconoclast of normal. I sit down, conjuring up a few bites to eat, and notice a pendulum by the window. I push it and, listen to the monotonous click as it swings back and forth.

It's then that I sit and ponder, all the things that I've done, and how I've changed. My will used to be for that of good, but now I do things strictly for survival. Just last week, I killed a man to use his blood in a ritual. I would have resisted before, but it was all I could do to stop myself from crying in glee when I slit his throat. His last words were, "you'll pay for this" or at least that't what I assume. He died before he could finish the "For this" part.

Wraithlike threads descend from the skies to gather at the roof of the house, seeping through cracks left by the earthquake to reach inside. Precipitating to give birth to bipedal form, vaguely hominid in shape. Forming a ginseng-like shape that grew limbs, seven figures spontaneously appear around it. They are clones of several bug soldiers in the Detroit hive. The clicking sounds of mandibles pollute the room as they gain a sense of mobility, three remain as four scatter to cover the area. The reason that Bugrom entered this desolated town is that there is a building housing an entity below, inside the basement is an unique artefact Some say it is cursed but he thinks it is of alien origin in which feeble humans have no knowledge of, hence why they correlate its form with magic. Two of the three approached the front door as they began to grow to another feet in height. This effect resonated with the rest of them, seemingly mutating further as they test out their independence. The tangled man above shifted and folded into a more versatile form, picking a serpentine body for traction. Degrading anything touched by the webs.

I twist one of my locks as my mind wanders into the space around me. The coarse hair between my fingers sounding rough between my fingers... Too rough. Focus regained- I listen closely. "Mice?" I think to myself, it wouldn't surprise me. The corner of my eye catches an amorphous figurine. No mice to be found, but trouble... As usual.

I get up, anxiously stepping my way to the adjacent wall, and peep around the corner and witness the multiple creatures awaiting me. I sense the mindlessness of them. Drones. And like drones, they shouldn't be a threat, but rather a distraction. Summoning wisps of shadow energy from my palms, I allow it to seep into the wood floor slow the worn carpet. It is my eyes and my hands as I stand out of sight. In an attempt to do away with the insectoid drones, the shadows would consolidate under the their feet, and shackle them, and bind them with enough force to crush the life out of them.

But my focus lies elsewhere. I think, why here, why now? They must be here for me! I won't give them the chance! My thoughts are carnal. Digging into my pocket, pull out a palm full of white powder. They are white lotus leaves, dried and ground. I pour it from my hand into a small circle. Spitting in all cardinal directions, I make a paste with the powder, writing symbols of power of them. When I finish, the powder incinerates and billows of smoke. This was all in an effort to cast a very simple but very powerful spell, I say with a low voice "Reveal yourself" in the hopes that the true master would come out of hiding.

@_sojourn_:

Life signs began to dissipate as multiple breaths began to simmer down into silence, their signatures shrinking as if an external force is crushing them from the outside. It was subtle and almost ubiquitous as if a fundamental force of the universe is being taken over by an intelligence, at the chamber the tangled man muses several possibilities. Yet he remained perfectly calm, faith in his abilities? or perhaps a bit of overconfidence after obtaining new and powerful form? nobody knows for sure.

A piece of string seeped through cracks and crevices provided by the dilapidated housing, the rest of the body followed after to take form. Eyeballs materialize to fully visualize the shape and dimensions of the figure challenging him, immediately Bugrom reacted by creating a replica of he shadowsmith. It looks exactly like the man below, except that instead of ears there were bull horns in their location. Eyes resemble that of the goat, legs are hoofed feet of the satyr but the shadows began to move in a weird way. It is now a tug of war between two forces.

@strongarm: wtf (my post got deleted or something... I wrote one like two days ago... Insert very angry emogi)

I hear the curdling crunch of arthropod bodies within my shadowy grasp. The wisps of darkness recoil back to me within the blink if an eye. My thoughts become apparent upon my face as a smirk creeps upon it. "If this is what I'm facing the. It should be only to easy to kill whatever created those disgusting creatures."

But, as things go, a surprising turn if events take place. It looked like molten lava, thick and viscous. The substance trickles down from the cracks in the ceiling if the old home, like rainwater. The ooze begins to form something more recognizable but just barely. Limbs and features express a human like form. I know however that this was nothing of regular origin, a thing we commonly shared.

Without words, it lifts its arm to the side, no foreboding aggression can be assumed, but only more sinuous matter leaks from it's body. Still as my shadows warp around my body, I step back in disconcerting wait. Again the matter takes form within seconds I realize the plot. It was a haphazard version of myself, but animalisticy inspired. Within the moment that the last glob solidified, the pull started. My shadows began to waft towards it. Panicked, I remove them entirely from my arsenal, halting any usurping.

"That blasphemous piece of trash will not do you any good" I say with confidence but shaken that it could steal away my own birthright. Clapping hard, I begin to rub my hands together and speak in a language long since forgotten. It was a summoning spell, calling creatures from the Ether. My chest and abdomen warp with shadows and an explosion divulges demons. Bat like creatures, about two hundred swarm the small enclosure, ready to strike with the given call. I take the time to enact another spell one more powerful. Again I speak, but this time I bite my lil to induce a small amount if blood, and my words carry out tithe forces of time and space. The room begins to distort, warping in view. The chaos would surely meddle with any further plans from the copy.

@_sojourn_:

Not drones, but husks that dissolve in the grip of the ebonic shapes. The imperfect drones stand no chance against this supernatural onslaught, but in their demise they have given him the knowhow to discern the man's powers. A usual tactic, send over expendables to learn then send over something that can take them out. In his case Bugrom prefers to follow the philosophy of aikido "using the attacker's aggression and power against them." his means though are very different. The dark goat, extends an aura that tampers that of the originals.

Legions of bats are met with a swarm of locusts, serrated legs and sharpened angles to lacerate and tear. While the airborne terrors are doing their dance of death the dupe interfered with a spell from the man's memories, a familiar sight that it is queer since it is from another angle. Every shadow cast by natural light reform into a field of blades, erect and pointed towards the original as their winged guardians pushed each other to the brink of annihilation. Javelins of ebonic energy took off into the air as they aim to turn the man into a pincushion. Several blades at a time, from all shadows.

.All of my efforts seem futile at best. The amalgamation proves to be more than just a copy. Although I can see very plainly that it is only a puppet. "I've been a puppet... I know what it feels like to be someone's play thing" these thoughts swirl within my head as I watch the aerial menace thwart the efforts invoked by both sides.

My wit races, I can feel the shadows around me bending to the will of another, I pan the area around me, witnessing the array of pikes jutting like crystal formations from all around. Only most are aimed in completely wrong directions because of the warp. However upon launching I meet severe pain. Six shadow bolts have impaled me from behind. The pain, I taste it. A mixture of blood and bitterness that no one grows to appreciate. As the shadows dissipate from my wounds, gashes are left in their place. However, I am still able to move. None of vitals seem to be tampered with, and so I provoke the shadows to collect behind me. The floor and the surface of the wall are covered with inky black energy, and with the wave of my hand it is gone, revealing the under workings of the foundation and the entire vista of the street. I jump backwards, pushing off from my left foot gaining height. Displaying my control over the shadows, darkness collects behind me forming wings, and I alight from plain view.

It is now that tend of my wounds, rubbing a balm of lemon and clay upon each entry. The sting is severe but brief... I can go on.

I gather that this creature is reactionary. Whatever I do, it counters with something that will stop my efforts. This is a thought as I hover above the broken home. "Then I must I invite them to a place where it is equally as dangerous for everyone.." I clasp my hands together and thrust forward projecting a single globule of shadow energy, it rotates rapidly and expands into a horizontal disk above the house. Immediately sweeping frigid arctic air rushes downward toward the house, freezing the rooftop almost immediately. This was in an attempt to freeze them to death or have them open a portal to a place where the heat matches the significantly subzero temperatures. No tropical breeze, no sunny day in Florida could help them. They would have to match extremes with extremes.

@strongarm: