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Astaroth
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End of an Era; [Original!Asta]
Tweet Topic Started: Jul 26 2011, 02:41 AM (939 Views)
Astaroth Sep 9 2011, 12:43 AM Post #11
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That was its own issue - the constant low-grade chakra eruptions sent pulsing shockwaves of force throughout the disclosure, a burning, silent wind that scorched hairs and singed eyelashes, that forced one to blink or look away from the light of the sun itself. The only sounds were the constant bone-rattling hum of the barrier and the crackling of the fully-formed beams that tore through the enclosure at random, burning up what remained of the already-limited oxygen supply without any concern for either combatant.

Normally speaking, low oxygen supplies weren't a crucial issue - chakra and training allowed him to hold his breath for quite some time. Doing so in a nigh-literal hell on earth while being buffeted around by a once-human monster was significantly more difficult. Astaroth considered it a small blessing that his opponent was likely having more trouble than he with the air situation, but at the rate things were going it would simply serve to prolong the inevitable by a few seconds.

Another detonation, this time right in front of him, obscured vision for a moment - by the time the spots had disappeared, the Citadel jonin, or more accurately the beast inhabiting the shell of what had once been a man, was already upon him. The SWATBU tasted blood - his own blood - as the chakra-laced kick impacted his chest and sent him slamming into the wall, rebounding in time to avoid the full force of the immediate essence backlash but still all too keenly aware of the infernal heat that singed his back. He opted to turn the rebound into an attack, headbutting his opponent in a desperate attempt to make room between them once more.

The last thing he saw before the world erupted in light was the shocked look in what little remained of the blood-drenched mask that had once been his opponent's face as a brilliant golden light severed him neatly in halves, both parts of his body quivering in uncertainty for a moment as a second beam lanced through, then a third, and then everything disappeared in a golden light as the entire seal imploded.

On the bright side, being rammed into a solid wall with enough force to crush bones was much more pleasant than being torn in half immediately. On the flip side, Astaroth was in no real condition to wonder what happened next, due to a sudden lapse in consciousness as his overworked brain suddenly realized that he should should be in the process of suffering from half a dozen concussions already - what was one more?
 
Astaroth Sep 9 2011, 11:23 AM Post #12
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Astaroth wasn't entirely sure how long it took him to realize that he was being shaken, but a particularly vigorous rattle jolted him into dubious consciousness after some indeterminate amount of time. He realized a few momeents later, with the disgustingly slow reflexes of a shell-shocked survivor, that it was blue. The shape. It was slightly concerning that he had found it necessary to specify that it was a blue shape, rather than a blue non-shape.

That started him down the yellow brick road to wondering what a non-shape would look like, something that Xero had the common decency to shock him out of by smacking the kneeling SWATBU upside the head hard enough to cause a concussion. It took another few moments to realize that Xero had been talking, possibly the entire time, possibly only starting right then - the formless fabric covering the other ninja's face was moving, had been moving, and sounds were coming out.

"Dude. Fuck! Snap out of it!"

Astaroth opened his mouth to answer - and nothing came out. Nothing came to mind, either. His mouth opened and closed twice more, like a confused guppy trying to breathe in air instead of water. Xero. Mission. His head still hurt like hell, he could barely think curved, much less straight, but there had definitely been something reasonably important to be doing. Citadel. Kill everyone. Assassinate kage. That was more like it.

He was very aware of how dry his throat was, and gave up on replying audibly after two tries, retreating back to the link through which they were supposed to be communicating in the first place. "Fine." There was a pause, Astaroth trying to marshal his thoughts and remember how to use words, SubXero standing there awkwardly, a veritable cascade of blood still dripping down his right arm.

Asta vacantly noted the crumpled corpse off to the side, realizing a few moments later that Xero had been fighting someone too - and that the green-clad jonin, or what remained of the man, must have been crushed into infinity when the seal collapsed in on itself. At least that part had worked right. He thought. He didn't remember actually writing it to collapse into infinity, or know exactly how he knew that that had actually happened. Beyond a gut feeling. He decided to try talking again. Third time was the charm. Or was it second time? He shrugged off the question. Metaphorically speaking. His arms weren't actually working to be shoved, or if they were he couldn't feel them. Asta opted to ignore that minor issue for the time being and focus on staying conscious.

"I'm - fine." Lying through his teeth, but then given the shit he'd been through today, it wasn't really so far fetched of a statement. Ariadne alone would have made it a very bad day. It only took one surreptitious glance at the mangled, charred mass that had been his left arm to decide to casually tighten the remaining bandages. Better if Xero didn't know how not-fine things were. "I've had better days, though."

The other ninja responded appropriately given the joke, a harsh chuckle with no humor whatsoever in it, but there was a flicker of concern in his cerulean eyes that Astaroth studiously ignored. Of course he wasn't fine - his head hurt like hell, he was having trouble thinking, his left arm was possibly ruined beyond repair, and he was probably going to die on this stupid assignment if the unexpected ferocity of the defenders so far, and the colossal backfiring of his seals, continued to stay constant.

They had a job to do, though, and no force on earth would stop them. He could lie down and die afterwards; first off, he had a lot more killing to do.

Astaroth forced himself to his feet through sheer willpower, ignoring the momentary nausea. He still couldn't feel his left arm, but the right one seemed to be in working condition, and his clothing was still - mostly there. He didn't wear random rags; as decidedly tasteless as his getup was, it was also made of ridiculously tough fabric and had some experimental seals in it. That it was still charred and - in places - tattered was a testament to the ferocity of the chakra detonations inside. He wasn't sure whether the seals had failed or simply not been strong enough to resist the outside chakra; the difference was important, but something to worry about later. He forced himself to focus on the problem at hand.

"All accounted for?"

The other ninja looked at him blankly for a moment, jolted out of thoughts unknown, then nodded with grim certainty. "Yes. Demolitions guy seems to be taking a break though - possibly hiding." More likely dead was the unstated suggestion, but it didn't really matter anymore. Citadel would be ruined for years by the end of this raid regardless of what happened; the sheer damage to the infrastructure and defenses would shatter their position, allowing others to move in.

That wasn't enough, though. Their kage had required absolute annihilation - that they turn Citadel not into a broken city, but a pile of smoldering rubble upon a mountain of corpses. They had a lot of work left to do. Astaroth grunted noncomittally, signifying that he'd heard the report while pondering the events of the last few minutes for a moment longer before reaching a decision. "Let's get moving."

SubXero nodded, and both ninja flickered out of existence one shattered into countless shards of ice, the other leaving only a crater in the ground in the wake of his sudden launch.
 
Astaroth Sep 13 2011, 10:04 AM Post #13
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In his defense, he had assumed that the whole "pain in arm" thing was due primarily to having essentially applied a chakra chainsaw to the flesh. In light of that, odd chakra fluctuations and a fair degree of pain was reasonably expected. Granted, there wasn't a lot of study about exactly what happened when you turned your arm into a holocaust of shredded flesh, but it was just one of those things that made sense. Hurt self, pain happen.

So, even if maybe he should have seen it coming, realizing that his arm was now sloughing off in chunks due to Ariadne's acidic chakra, and that said chakra was rapidly working on poisoning the rest of his system, was still a surprise that he hand't really seen coming. Astaroth wasn't particularly happy about the fact that he was now on his knees, unable to rise, nothing more than a sitting duck for any Citadel security forces that happened by. Xero was nowhere to be seen, and would have no reason to go searching down that particular street. Demolotions specialist was missing or dead.

He was alone.

But masters of the sealing arts were never truly alone, were they?
 
Astaroth Sep 13 2011, 10:07 AM Post #14
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The world around him seemed to freeze as the seal activated, effectively severing a small pocket of the surroundings from reality. The effect was remarkably similar to being in an elevator, in both dimensions and purpose. Also remarkably similar was the momentary feeling of vertigo as the nullspace detached from reality, much like an elevator whose cable had suddenly ruptured; while he never technically moved, being cut off from the order and rationality of reality to be plunged into the coursing currents of the Wyld was a jarring experience every time.

It was the best way to summon in action, though, even if the initial seal took entirely too much chakra for his tastes; bereft of a laboratory or safe area, the nullspace served to cut him off from space and time, effectively removing him from worries of taking too long or being attacked in the meantime. Well, taking too long or being attacked in the real world - what safety he gained there was at the cost of the loss of any real resistance to the denizens of the Wyld. It was an acceptable risk.

Astaroth's body tensed imperceptibly for an instant before going slack, falling against one side of the nullspace as his consciousness expanded into the Wyld, tentative, probing. Tasting the currents. This world was - different from reality. Filled with all manner of things, useful and dangerous and everything in between. To establish a proper contract required some time spent trawling, exposing himself to the warping influence of the Wyld as well as its denizens in an attempt to find something that was still sane enough to attempt diplomacy with.

It was about as easy as it sounded, but it was also his best option right now if he was to complete the mission, preferably alive. Contracted youkai didn't outlast their contractor in reality, generally, but if he could find one to take his place, or help keep him moving, it would ease the load on the rest of the squad.

The currents of the Wyld were, as always, filled with life, with activity. Perhaps not "life" in the form that humans saw it, but - existences. Disembodied consciousnesses, youkai and demons from ages past, cursed to forever wander the sea of madness or eventually be subsumed into its endless depths. It was a threat that he could only begin to understand as he too floated, disembodied but still tethered to himself, in the deeps. Voices. Feelings. Emotions.

Everything and then nothing, all at the mercy of the current of madness. At this point, he was working off of little more than guesswork, which was all that he'd managed to cobble together from his sciencing of the process; drop some bait - namely, a temporary window to reality - and hope that whatever came through was interested in talking, rather than chewing on him. Afloat on a sea of sensations, grasping blindly for he knew not what.

Warmth. All-encompassing warmth. Almost overpowering, a nearly physical force, and yet gentle. An ocean of hope hidden within the ocean of despair. Incongruity with its surroundings, yet as real as anything else here. It tasted - tangy. He had no idea how he could taste sensations, or what he was tasting, but the basic five senses seemed to meld together in this world, to feel as one rather than separately. What he touched, he tasted. What he heard, he smelled. It was rather inconvenient at times, but also an addictive experience, to be one with something else for a brief moment in the purest and most absolute of forms. Focus. He grasped out, a silent plea for he knew not what to he knew not whom, and the sensation changed, the reverberations shifted. He felt surprise, curiosity, quiet and unassuming but omnipresent. The - entity, for lack of a better word, had noticed him. It was curious, but it hadn't taken the bait.

Contracting was an - interesting experience. Doubtless there were methods to alleviate the threats and tribulations, but Astaroth had not yet found a method that surpassed simply opening himself to a prospect, allowing himself to be as one of them. To meld, for a moment; two entities of the Wyld, a single presence rather than himself and it. The warmth intensified, palpating; still soft, but almost overwhelming in its presence. He could feel his mind slipping away for a moment, almost instantly subsumed into It, and then in the same moment he was back in his own body, or at least what he remembered his body as; firm, hale, no trace of the chakra poisoning wracking his real body. All around him the walls of the gateway crackled with power, a force so tremendous as to destroy any capacity for coherent thought.

Only power, absolute and unending. An eternity of sovereignty, raw and untamed. Humbling in a way that Ariadne's had not; hers had been wild, constantly shifting. Poisonous and yet sickly sweet, decaying and yet alluring. A study in constrasts, in dichotomies. Each of them impossible, a contradiction to itself as well as every other facet, and yet when taken as a whole, they simply naturally comprised her existence. This aura - it was humbling. It held no malice, no hatred, but neither did it hold the warmth and tenderness of a moment before. It was power in its purest form; supremacy approaching omnipotence, dominion over all in its field of influence.

Had he not already been crumpled half-lifelessly against the wall, he would have been instantly brought to his knees. Eldritch might beyond imagining. Inhuman in its perfection, its sheer invincibility. Astaroth knew shame in that moment, understood how inconsequential a speck he was in the cosmos, more than ever before.

And then it was gone, that horrifying eldritch might replaced with the gentle rays of the sun, of the scent of fresh grass. An endless sea of it stretched around him as far as the eye could see, rolling plains flush with life, with growth. The invisible breeze brushed across the land, quietly stirring grass and flowing around his body. He couldn't help but stare for a moment, still shellshocked and confused. It took a moment to notice the protrusion from the ground before him, a slowly-forming sapling that gradually grew, inch by inch. Twisted and raw; no leaves, no branches, simply a twig that continued to grow upwards, every upwards.

It grew straighter as it rose, as though guided by an unseen hand, until it reached just over a meter. As it grew, it continued to take form, ever straighter, but also gradually curving. Thinner. He didn't recognize it for what it was until near the end - a nodachi, seemingly formed of wood, a single tassel attached to it. Ornate designs on its handle, but the blade still encompassed in its sheath. Held upright of its own volition, rather than any obvious support.

He was supposed to - touch it. Take it? There was no voice, no clear instructions, and yet the wind seemed to nudge him towards it, to whisper in his ear. Take it, it said. Feel it. Be one with it. He took a step forwards, almost unconsciously. On a whim, he looked down,and the spot where the foot had been instantly regrew. Grass unscathed, as though he'd never crushed it beneath his heal. The world vibrated with life, no trace of the horrible might of before. The sword still waited. Astaroth felt a bit like King Arthur of old, tasked with pulling Excaliber from the stone.

And yet, at the same time, he knew that the sword was not meant for him. It was as clear as if it had been shouted from the mountops, a fundamental truth of the universe. It was a fine blade, but it was not his to take. Another step. Once more, the grass sprung back up in his wake. It was only a few feet away, pulsating with power. Touch it, the wind whispered. Hurry, the grass rustled. Another step, and he was upon it. The blade had become steel and cloth, the sheath still wood, but all in an obsidian finish. It was dark, and yet it did not feel out of place or evil, simply lavish, ornate in its simplicity. Even without seeing the blade, he somehow knew that it had been crafted to be perfect. He touched the blade, tentatively at first, then wrapped a finger around it. It pulsated with power, gentle and warm. Familiar. He wrapped one hand about it, felt its heft. He didn't try to lift it.

Slowly, uncertainly, he dropped to one knee, lowering himself. The other hand dropped to the ground, the coiled fist barely touching the ground from which the grass grew. He kept his grip, intuitively understanding that this was the proper protocol despite not knowing why, and closed his eyes. If he had been marked for death, he would have already been dead. Long before he realized it. For now, all he could do was hope, to dare to submit himself to the being's will. Nothing happened for a moment. Perhaps two. The wind continued to rustle, gentle and pleasant, and the grass answered its call. The sun was warm, but not unpleasant. Perfect weather. Perfect day.

Then softness encircled the hand that still held to the sword, delicate and tentative. It enclosed his hand, a gentle grasp. The blade positively hummed with power, and even as it did, he could feel his mind clear, his body respond to the clarion call. His real body, not the dream-form of moments before. The essence flowed through him like a stream, a light kiss of fragrance, but the power behind it was like an avalanche. Purging, cleansing, healing, renewing. It surged around and through him, always gentle, always soft.

"Rise."
 
Astaroth Oct 3 2011, 01:58 AM Post #15
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Soft as the tone was, the single word resonated with command, with meaning. Astaroth found his body that his body obeyed unconsciously, his own will irrelevant; even the straining of his muscles seemed entirely alien. All he could feel was the energy coursing through his body; alien chakra, and yet somehow it felt more natural than even his own ever had. It was at once gentle yet willful, an irresistible torrent flooding through his body, but without overloading his chakra pathways.

None of that really mattered after he saw his savior.

Alabaster and lavender, emerald and russet - that she resembled a girl more than a woman barely even crossed his mind. Here was a being that had seen years beyond his comprehension, survived events that would have broken him in an instant. Her demeanor, her pose, the colossal presence she exuded, all demanded respect from his traitorous body, almost forced him to kneel again.

Almost.

Seething in impotent rage at Ariadne's seeming betrayal, knowing that he had no recourse to return the favor and hating himself for his weakness, Astaroth channeled that hatred towards his savior, uncaring of how hypocritical or unseeming it might be. She was just another filthy youkai, one that hid behind a facade even as Ariadne hid behind her beauty to hide the nightmare within. He bit down until he could feel the pain through the odd euphoria of her chakra, forcing himself to stay erect, proud, unbowed.

And yet he needed her. Without the help of his precious genie in a bottle, he would already be dead; without her further help, he would be dead anyways, unable to accomplish his mission, unwilling to leave the full responsibility of the entire mission on Xero's shoulders. His friend's shoulders.

"I art Vesvia, Lesser Elemental Dragon of Wood, the Breath of Creation. Why hath thou summoned me, mortal man?"

Her words reverbated through the world, jolting him from his reverie; gentle, piercing, and curious all at once. He realized that she had been studying him very intently during the intermission between her initial proclamation and the second. In the meantime, he had managed to scowl a little, think bad thoughts about her, and ponder failing his mission. It was relatively disgusting. Astaroth forced himself to focus, slipping into a a more fitting persona for negotiations.

"Thy kind - intrigue me. I shall aid thee this once of mine own free will, that thine end not be in ignominy. Thou needst not bend the knee."

A moment of confusion, followed by dawning horror - she knew. In retrospect, it made perfect sense; their consciousnesses had brushed earlier, before her arrival; he had gotten the vaguest sense of her. Of course it had worked in reverse as well - but unlike him, she would have had no trouble understanding his lower existence. Strong feelings, surface thoughts, goals; where he had come out of it with nothing but a vague sense of having touched upon something much greater than himself, she would have had no such trouble.

And yet her words, the vague half-smile barely visible at the corners of her lips; for reasons known only to her, she was willing to help. Without requiring anything from him. A significant portion of his conscious mind immediately jumped to the obvious question: what was she getting out of this? Another portion wanted to simply jump at her offer, to accept it and bind her to it before she could reconsider.

In the end, it was her eyes that convinced him. Amidst myriad other emotions, shadowed considerations playing beneath the surface, there was a kindness that made him want to believe. Logically speaking, he knew damn well that she was getting something out of the exchange; the slightest hitch in her voice, the curiosity in her tone, the slightest crease of thought on her brow - but neither did she seem to have any obvious ulterior motives, nor did she require repayment. He wasn't naive enough to believe that it was just satisfaction for helping someone that she was aiming for. Whatever she was getting out of this was beyond his understanding, but youkai or no, she was willing to help.

"Then - will you join me on the field of battle?"

Kindness was joined by vague amusement in short order, her expression changing to match as her eyes danced with joy; Astaroth had a very real suspicion that she was making a conscious effort not to laugh at his expense. Or at someone's expense.

"Thou misunderstand'st my words. Thy summoning was crude, riddled with flaws - thou hath performed none of the necessary rituals, placed none of the proper gates, that I might enter thy world without destroying much of it in the process. I confess that I be unsure of how thou even contacted me at all. Nay, I offer thee thine body, hale once more, and imbue thee with a merest shadow of mine self."

"I accept."

He couldn't tell if she was antagonizing him or just very blunt in her explanation of how horribly he had fucked up the summoning ritual, but it was irrelevant anyways; it was clear that she didn't intend to bargain, so his options were to either accept her offer, or deny it. Between those two options, the choice was effortless.

A briefest flicker of something passed across her expression before her smile ceased, and she grew deathly serious. "It shall be done." And then the faintest smile once more, her expression growing less serious as the world began to dissolve into blinding light, his consciousness dim. "Shouldst thou survive this ordeal, being of blood and flesh, perhaps our paths may cross once more. If thou survive and wish to borrow mine power once more, thou would do well to learn how thou might properly summon an elemental to thine side, and work from there. I look forwards to thy ascension beyond thine station."

Her words trailed off as the world vanished into light, flowing into darkness as unconsciousness abruptly overtook him.

[Reference pic]
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Astaroth Oct 12 2011, 09:36 PM Post #16
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The World Ends in Fire


Reality came crashing together all at once, an avalanche of sight and sound that jerked him into abrupt clarity and consciousness, eyes shooting open at the sudden sensation. There was a moment of total disconnect, of pulling his mind and body - figuratively and possibly literally speaking - together into a coherent mass generally resembling their current state. What had at first been an eternity of grey snapped into sharp contrast, the muted browns and dusty shadows against the lurid reds and oranges of sunset, constant crackling of distant fires the only accompaniment.

Then another sound, even more familiar than the horrors of war - the discordant cacophony of crystallization and abrupt shattering as Xero formed from ice, shards of the material raining down around them as the initial construct erupted. A small portion of his unconscious noted that his companion must have swappd with an ice clone, yet another ridiculously useful ability unique to the ice-nin, but the rest of his mind was just happy to finally see someone familiar, a human, someone who could be understood and trusted. It took a moment longer to realize that that he was already standing, but a pulse of chakra flowed through him, and then everything contrasted again in perfect clarity: he was standing in much the same pose that Vesvia had held, both hands on the pommel of her sword, ramrod straight.

"What-" "Where the hell have you- nevermind. We have a- uh. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

It took a moment to follow his friend's hasty delivery; when on a job, Xero was always methodical, both in action and in speech. To be bordering on incoherence suggested that there had, indeed, been a significant issue. Well, it would have been boring to not have to deal with a barrel of bullshit as soon as he returned, Astaroth reflected; at least the mental activity might help him pull himself together better.

"Xero. Every time you ask if I want the good news or the bad news first-" "I know! Just - fuck, dude. This shit is so not cash." ...And Xero was talking like he did whenever not on a mission. That was just great. ...Wait, talking? "Hold on. Why are you-" "Talking? Yeah, that's one of the issues. One of many." A grimace showed through the other man's mask. "Something shredded the link. From the third guy's side. Not broke it - shredded it. I thought you said this thing was supposed to be impervious to blocking."

"It is. Even Citadel's natural formations could interrupt it at best, not - define 'shredded.'" His mind was already working overtime; while he doubted that the link had actually been impervious to blocking, the worst possible effect had it been interrupted by the unusual natural stone formations of Citadel was a short-term loss in communication as it accounted for the difference in matter densities. Xero had described it as being shredded, actually broken, which did not bode well for their missing third party. "Look, I don't fucking understand how your sealing bullshit works and I don't care, we can talk about how your shit backfired later or whatever, but we have bigger issues - we're not alone."

Asta speared his companion with a disbelieving glance at the last statement. "No shit. We're in a large city-" "No, seriously, I mean that someone, or" Another grimace. "Something is here killing the holy shit out of everything." Another pause, Xero realizing something and rushing to clarify, answering Asta's question before it could be asked.

"Besides us. I've done some larger-scale scouting - I don't think that the explosion earlier was all our guy's. That half the city is - gone. Huge fucking gouges in the walls, your favorite bullshit "indestructible" stone literally fucking melted by chakra, Citadel guards and citizens alike are wallpapering the fucking place. Like - there is shit going down here, dude. Shit that we were not briefed on. Shit that we should not be here for. Our dude is still missing, either he peaced the fuck out or there wasn't enough of him left to identify. You know protocol when shit goes south like this - we're supposed to pull back and observe, then go in when we have a plan."

Oh.

Well that was - that was just lovely.

Asta's face met the gentle caress of his palm, trying not to swear too loudly. That would explain why security had been even lighter than they had planned, but he had chalked it up to their third member's distraction being even more successful than anticipated. The news of an unknown third party was - troubling, though. He thought back to the final briefing, to the man who had stood behind his kage without a word, his unassailable calmness. The mission had been unusually odd from the start - had they been sent to die? The piercing crimson eyes of the man had only rested on him once, so self-assured and all-knowing, but they held the message so clearly. I know, they said. What you would hide - I know it all.

The possibility that the man had already told his kage and inspired Hatashi-sama to send them to their deaths came to mind. Perhaps he had not been circumspect enough with his youkai-summoning, and his kage had deemed him too great a risk. Perhaps the black-clad man had had something against him.

Astaroth decided that it didn't matter. Whatever was going on would be dealt with in time. They would never have a chance like this to break into Citadel again. If they could avoid confronting the new problem and just finish their mission, perhaps others would even chalk up the kage's death to that third party, leaving the Pale Lord's hands entirely clean of the matter. That would be - victory.

"No. We continue the mission. Avoid confronting our ally of convenience - let him be a distraction while we do what needs to be done."

SubXero looked about as happy as could be expected under the circumstances, which was to say that his borderline-mutinous expression shone through the mask and the crinkles in his eyebrows, but he held his peace. Being close friends with one's partner had both positive and negatives effects; had it been any other SWATBU they wouldn't have evinced such displeasure, but Astaroth knew that he would rather have no one else watching his back, moreso given the current situation - if it occasionally led to minor breakdowns in protocol, he could deal with it.

The ice ninja looked ready to say something for a few more moments, but eventually visibly forced himself to change the subject, all business once more. It was proof of how hard he was trying, and Asta couldn't help but respect him a little more for it. "There is one other issue. The - remaining civilians. What is left of them. The majority were in the range of the initial detonations or in that general area, and I found the, ah, remains of a fair few torn apart by the - thing I mentioned earlier, but one of my clones found a fairly large group of survivors. Few dozen people. All civilians, I think."

The pause at the end was odd, a slight catch in Xe's voice that instantly picqued Asta's attention. "You think?" The other man looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Well, I found them by killing their, uh, only protector, apparently - he wasn't hiding as well as he thought he was, and I didn't notice the civilians until one started screaming. You know my clones aren't good with sound, just chakra sense."

Wonderful. Fucking wonderful. He didn't blame Xero in the least for taking care of the obvious threat immediately, but that left them with between thirty and sixty people, possibly more hidden underground. Even if they were all civilians, with no hostile elements biding their time for an avenging strike, they couldn't very well leave that many witnesses alive.

He grabbed the pommel of the sword, marveling at how right it felt, then pulled it out of the ground with minimal movement. Awareness poured through him like a tidal wave, of the ground around him, but he ignored it, focused on the mission. "Fine. Show me."

Two blurs, cobalt and crimson, flickered out of existence simultaneously.
 
Astaroth Oct 14 2011, 05:52 PM Post #17
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Jul 25, 2011
Xero hadn't been exaggerating - the remains of the city burned dimly in the gloom, illuminating titanic scars in the walls and streets that could not have been caused by the explosives. Blood and entrails shone wetly in the flickering glow of the flames, illuminating casualties among all levels of Citadel's residents; torn hitiate and broken kunai accompanied what little remained of the city's defenders, while denser pools of assorted fluids and body parts marked civilian massacres. The stench was overwhelming; it had been a few hours at most, but the bodies were visibly decaying, and the ocean of entrails and fluids added their own array of pungent aromas to the hellish scene.

The first thought that came to mind had been Ariadne, and Astaroth wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried that she could not have been responsible based on her disappearance as the duration of the summoning had worn out in the aftermath of their earlier encounter. The chakra residues were necrotic on a level that he had only ever witnessed from her before, but felt vastly different. Ariadne's chakra had always been poisonously sweet, honeyed hatred that seeped through the mind and body alike, twisted, warping, melting; this chakra was absolutely corrosive to the core, no subtlety, no enticing poison to mask the hatred burning brightly within it.

A massive pulse of that same chakra erupted to the side, a kilometer away - a sheer wall of force that knocked both ninja out of the sky, forced to land in messy skids that left welts and lacerations across exposed skin. Xero, of course, just shattered into countless shards of ice and reformed after the shards stopped moving. Feeling a bit bitter, but oddly comforted by the fact that even in a world gone so horribly wrong, his friend was still a goddamn asshole fuckup, Astaroth stood and made a token attempt to dust himself off.

"So, uh, I guess that's where we're headed next?" Xero's voice held a tone of flat amusement, of resignation mixed with what Astaroth suspected was budding excitement. Neither of them had any idea what was up ahead, but if there was one thing they both lived for, it was the thrill of combat, of fighting with their lives on the line - proving with each moment that they belonged in this world, earning the right to continue existing. "After we-" He paused, not liking the the initial wording that had come to mind. After a moment of thought, Astaroth continued, carefully keeping his tone neutral. "-solve the civilian situation, yes."

Interestingly, he noticed, his magic sword made no attempt to instantly fix his wounds, nor had any of his plentiful scars disappeared. His leg was still sore, too. If he survived this never-ending nightmare and ever discovered the proper way to summon the pink-haired, self-proclaimed dragon again, he was going to have to interrogate her for details. There was no such thing as "perfect" healing in the ninja world, medical chakra generally doing little more than eviscerating infections and speeding up the body's natural processes, so it was a little refreshing to see that Vesvia's healing had limits too - or that she had imposed them, or that the healing was an effect directly related to her, rather than her chakra, or any of a thousand other explanations.

They passed one of Xero's ice clones, one that had apparently been left on guard. One of the many applications of the ice-nin's constructs; while not possessed of a mind of their own, they were excellent chakra sensors and could channel their data to the controller indivudually or all at once, augmenting his already-impressive innate observation skills and the intense scrutiny that his Redeye could afford. Another one, this time perched atop a pile of corpses. Astaroth sent a questioning glance Xero's way. The other man responded with a barely-perceptible shrug. "What? Looked that way when I got here."

Asta snorted, but didn't follow up on the line of questioning. He suspected that his ever-pragmatic friend had just shoved them all together to make a large enough stack to provide a good lookout, but knew that Xe would admit to killing them if he actually had - or maybe the pile really had been that way when he arrived, though given the oddity of it compared to the mess strewn about the rest of the city, it didn't seem likely.

He heard rather than saw the civilian hideout before they reached it, the muffled sniffling and hacking of the survivors. A burnt-out building, already half collapsed, half the front face painted crimson in cloying blood. The guardian Xero had mentioned lay face down in a pool of the stuff near the entrance, enough water pooled on the ground nearby to suggest that he had managed to take down one of Xero's constructs before falling.

A step, and then he paused - a wave of killing intent exploded outwards as the "corpse" surged towards him, fresh blood mingling with the old, propelled by a massive burst of chakra.

The blade came up almost unconsciously, its razor edge shearing through bone and steel without resistance. Astaroth barely had time to see the look of hatred on the man's face before it came apart at the seams, the entire body split vertically in one clean slash, including the kunai that had been aimed at him a moment ago.

A moment later, the building groaned, shuddering in agony as it too was bisected by the force exuding from the blade. There was a scream, and then people clambering out from every orifice, streaming out of shattered windows and doorways, all empty-handed save for a few carrying wounded.

He ignored them all, even as half a dozen of Xero's clones landed in a loose semicircle around the survivors with a synchronized crash, ready to finish what he had started the moment their creator gave the order. Astaroth marveled at the blade instead, the colossal pulse of energy unleashed with a single thoughtless swing. It made him wonder what vesvia had known that he had not, for her to loan him that much. Or, perhaps, it was as little as she could give, and her existence was simply so much greater than a human like he could comprehend that this tiny fragment of her self could seem so mighty.

Xero recovered faster than he, nudging Astaroth out of his reverie with a pointed glance at the sword. Asta was not a swordsman, they both knew it, and he certainly did not have a tendency to carry around swords that cut buildings in half with invisible force waves. It was inevitable that he would be curious, especially after the incident with Ariadne earlier. Astaroth roused himself from thoughts of Ariadne and Vesvia alike, mouthing later to Xero before focusing on the cowering civilians.

Beaten, broken, many of them bloody - but just civilians. With their last ace in the hole gone, the last Citadel ninja who had pledged his life to protect them lying in gory halves at his feet, they knew that there was no longer anything stopping him from eviscerating the lot of them and finishing up the mission.

He paused, watching the downcast stares and blatant fear plastered across so many of their faces. They were - civilians. Not ninja. Not combatants. In a single night, their world had gone straight to hell, lives consumed by the fires of war, the slaughter of everyone they had cared for. Bereft of their homes, their families, their protectors, their lives - he supposed that it would actually be more merciful to just kill them and save them the trouble of dealing with all that emotional baggage.

It was the fear on their faces, though, that gave him pause as he realized it - they saw him the same way as he saw Ariadne and Vesvia; a an inhuman monster using power to crush those below him. It was accurate, in a way; Astaroth was never one for sugarcoating issues, and he had accepted some time ago that he was no longer exactly human in the purest sense of the term. Ninja couldn't be. SWATBU could never be. To get broken up over each kill would lead to an early retirement impaled on someone else's sword.

Frankly, he didn't much care if they didn't like him. They weren't the first miserable people he'd seen on a job, and they certainly would not have been the first group of noncombatants he and Xero had butchered for one reason or another on a mission. Astaroth supposed that it pointed to a certain degree of detachment from morality that he could actually put those thoughts together as a coherent description of himself and agree to it with no compunctions whatsoever, but the truth was harsh.

What bothered him, then, was not the loss of innocent life. Fuck 'em. If that was the only problem, they would all already be dead. No, he realized, finally getting to the crux of the issue - it was that... what? He didn't want people to see him as a youkai? He couldn't quite put his finger on the exact definition, and that bothered him more than it should have. Blindly killing for a master who had very possibly intentionally sent them to their deaths? He had no issue being used as a tool - that was the definition of SWATBU. Astaroth supposed that he had liked to think of himself as too valuable to be expendable, and that certainly stung a bit, but frankly he wasn't sure that he cared quite enough to be considering mutiny.

A muted cough by Xero, signaling a general sense of unease and dude hurry the fuck up we don't have time for this bullshit was actually what nudged the thought into his head. He realized that as little value as he gave his own life, he would die in an instant to save Xero's - and their kage had very likely sent Xero to die alongside him. Asta knew that he wasn't really supposed to know that he had been, in some ways, a "limiter" on Xero, a plant to ensure that the brilliant ninja's loyalty remained firm with the village, but it hadn't really been that well hidden. There were few other explanations for why they had been assigned together despite their close relationship.

So what it all boiled down to, he decided, was that his kage had just tried to kill his best friend. That was... it. He thought. He didn't think about it more, because he wasn't sure if he wanted an answer beyond that. Loyalty to one's comrades was perfectly normal in the line of duty. Maybe it was childish to strike back for the betrayal with such an insignificant gesture, but Astaroth wasn't certain that he had the courage to leave the village, wasn't certain that Xero would come with him, and - betrayal or no, he had a job to do. They still hadn't killed the kage. If they accomplished that, they could still return home, but he could rest easier, forgive their kage, knowing that in the tiniest and most insignificant of ways, he had held his ground.

...Well, when he put it like that, it sounded kind of dumb. Convincing Xero was going to be a bitch too. Astaroth reconsidered butchering the little ingates very seriously for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of his options, before reaching a conclusion. His companion hadn't moved in to take down the remaining civilians himself, so maybe he was having second thoughts, too.

"You know, we're supposed to kill everyone in Citadel, right?"

Xero's voice was oddly conversational, still quiet, but with an odd timbre to it. Astaroth nodded, unsure of how to respond. "It sure would be lucky for these poor fucks if they happened to be out of the area when we finished killing the shit out of the big kahuna around here. Like, really lucky."

Silence for a moment. He doubted any of the civilians could hear them, but the air had reached a certain degree of hopeful uncertainty. He suspected that they were starting to get an idea of the situation, but - what the hell was Xero doing? He had been hoping to do this without getting Xero involved, per se, but - did he already know?

"In case you didn't get my awesome subtlety, I'm insinuating that-"Leave." Astaroth's voice, harsh and throaty, echoed through the clearing, jolting the civilians. No one reacted for a moment, perhaps two. SubXero was the first to act, his voice much louder than before, toned by his mask into something much harsher than the quiet murmurs of a moment ago. "Flee. Die. Fate does not care."

But the look in Xero's eyes when he glanced back at Astaroth was cold, questioning - you had better have a good explanation for this afterwards. Asta could only hope that it was good enough.
 
Astaroth May 8 2012, 10:17 PM Post #18
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OST

The world itself seemed to be gradually disintegrating around them as they approached the nexus of power, a colossal beacon of pulsating chakra so thick it was literally visible to the naked eye. It permeated the air, ground away at the dust hanging in it, even sought to eat away at their very existence, only held back by the flickering sparks of crimson and cerulean dimly emanating from the two ninja. Even with his emotions completely deadened, Astaroth was keenly aware that he felt more like a moth drawn to flame than an elite soldier; even from a kilometer away the chakra had been overwhelming, and now it felt like walking into a solid wall of force, if walls were made out of flesh-melting acid.

They came at last to a great crater, a depression in the world itself as much as the earth around it. Bloodlust flowed like water; an ocean of force swirled around them, pressing them down - hatred made manifest, a storm of terror and loathing that brooked no life in its sway.

At the center stood something that might have once been a man, a seething mass of flesh that bubbled and melted and reformed again before their eyes, staring unblinking at the new arrivals with eyes that did not see. He had a feeling that it was aware of them, but Astaroth hesitated nonetheless, taken aback by the grim apparition. They were here to kill Citadel's kage, not its - caged monster? A thought came to mind, one with which he was all too familiar, having been there, done that. It is in the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers.

The horrible rasping gurgle jolted him from the moment of thought, his mind still clouded by the cataclysmic quantity of chakra around him. "Welcome... " It took a moment to realize that the sound had been a word, not disparate gurgling; blood and what appeared to be thick clots of flesh dribbled out of the thing's mouse as its head hung limply to the side, but the face, or rather what little was left of the ruined visage, was turned directly at him.

It had once been human.

Fear and horrific realization shot through him alongside the adrenaline in equal parts, the knowledge that something had happened here far beyond his current understanding. With knowledge came curiosity, the need to know what had happened - but so too came duty, the knowledge that whatever this... thing was now, it had once been the village's kage. Nothing else could exude so much power short of a youkai, and this thing was - not. He would have known.

Ice flowered from the creature's chest, an eruption of frozen lances rending flesh as acrid chakra bubbled forth. Now or never. The world blurred around him as he moved, a harsh, dissonant buzz the only sound in his ears as Astaroth reappeared low to the ground in front of the thing. The creature's blood was already disintegrating the supposedly-unmeltable ice. Even as a part of his mind noted that fact, his body was already in action, recoiling violently fro ma handspring to drive both feet upwards into the beast's chest just below where the icicles had emerged, launching it airborne.

A three-meter lance of ice impaled the creature bodily even as Xero appeared behind it, an aerial roundhouse abruptly halting and reversing the creature's upwards velocity. They had worked together too many times to not already know what the other was planning; a grating roar shredded flesh and bone as raging crimson met the sickly green of Citadel's former kage, chakra saw brought to bear for maximum impact.

"Not... ENOUGH!"

Blood and spittle sprayed from its mouth as it roared, an apocalyptic wave of chakra flensing everything around it. Xero simply shattered into ice; Astaroth was - not as lucky.
 
Astaroth Mar 7 2013, 10:59 PM Post #19
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The acrid entity of living hatred descended upon him as a single mass, an avalanche of killing intent that overwhelmed more than a decade of conditioning in a brief instant of terror. The creature might once have been a rational thinking individual, a leader, a man - but nothing remained of that now, only loathing so vast and indiscriminate that it could consume the world. Alien and inhuman, but eerily familiar all the same, with implications he did not care to ponder.

In that moment of weakness, it struck, a writhing, already-disintegrating limb impacting his body with a whiplash crack that drove the air from his body and all rational thought from his mind, replaced by overwhelming pain that spiked again before mercifully dulling as the ground broke his fall - and body. Somewhere in Astaroth's scattered thoughts, he was vaguely aware that hitting the ground with the back of his skull was probably unwise, something about concussions and other brain damage, but that lecture seemed very long ago and far away. He remembered Xero had suggested headbutting - something.

The disintegration of much of his left leg proved an effective jolt back into reality, hundreds of pounds of giant murder beast more than a match for the structural integrity of even a reinforced skeleton. He was pretty sure it was supposed to hurt more than dull phantom pain - he couldn't see the leg, exactly, but the explosion of bone fragments, blood, and flesh did not bode well for his ever walking again - but the corrosive venom the creature emanated seemed to have a curiously anesthetic effect, which he suspected was more due to melting nerves than any sort of mercy on its part.

The burning chill as it crept up his body was less welcome, as was his borrowed weapon impaling the ground a few feet away, its trajectory flawlessly calculated to be well out of easy grasp. At least it hadn't landed on his face. Small blessings, right? The battered ninja didn't really remember dropping it, but then he was having trouble focusing on the form of the slavering nightmare looming over him, much less calculating the velocity at which he must have been launched to hit the ground so far ahead of the borrowed blade. Yeah, that obnoxious remainder of his coherent consciousness helpfully supplied, probably a concussion. If he was lucky, perhaps the brain damage would kill him before it ate him.

"This is my realm, fool." The words burrowed into his mind like so many drills, each dripping with hatred so intense it matched the acidic discharge currently hard at work dissolving as much of his body as it could reach, blotches of liquid shadow sloughing off the constantly-disintegrating form of his captor onto both Astaroth and the ground surrounding them. "My world, ripe for the taking." He tried responding with a witty rejoinder, discovering in the process anything beyond what might have charitably been construed a choking gurgle was beyond his power.

"...And you, for all your arrogance, no more than another victim."
 
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