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| The Soul Must Languish; closed | |
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| Topic Started: May 15 2012, 03:31 AM (402 Views) | |
| Doctor Strange | May 15 2012, 03:31 AM Post #1 |
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Master of the Mystic Arts
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JP between Dr. Strange and Warpath May 4th 2012 Skrull wilderness A lone figure moved silently among the undergrowth in the forest, pausing only at short intervals to listen for approaching footsteps. The Skrull forests were different from those in his native land but it had not been a difficult adjustment, particularly once he had learned to distinguish the foreign smells from one another. His enhanced senses and particular upbringing had allowed him to thrive in this setting. He found himself thanking his ancestors once again that it was expected for a young boy to learn to live off the land in the wild. Though this setting was different from the Arizona badlands where he was raised, the skills he had learned still came in handy. The man loped from one tree to another, before stopping next to a fallen trunk. He inspected where he had placed one of his snares, noticing the trampled ground with satisfaction. A nearby thrashing alerted him to the location of his prey, and with a quick and deft downstroke of his knife the animal died. Inspecting the animal revealed it to be some sort of lizard, edible he thought. At least that was what he hoped, though it would not be the first time he would make himself ill from eating something in this blasted forest that didn't agree with his human physiology. James Proudstar threw his prey over his shoulder and looked out among a gap in the trees. He could see the Skrull encampment not three miles away, menacingly reminding him of the reason why he was here. It had been nearly eight months since his capture and subsequent escape at from the hands of the Skrulls who had sought to replace him among the human population. Yet, he was no closer to figuring out a way to return to his world or warn his friends of the Skrull plot. Most of his days were spent with only the task of surviving in mind, a difficult task as it was. Finding basic supplies such as food had been hard enough, though he had lucked out and found suitable lodging in a cave system that catacombed the forest where he made his dwelling. In addition to sheltering James from the elements it also allowed him to hide from the numerous Skrull patrols that combed the area. They knew he was out here, and had been searching for him ever since his escape. This was not to say that he cowered from them all the time however, James just had to pick his battles carefully. By his count he had killed at least twenty of the Skrull commandoes and wounded dozens more, both by direct combat and numerous traps that he had constructed in the forest that had become his haven. At times he felt a bit like Rambo, from the movie First Blood, out-matched and out-gunned but still a threat as long he was alive. Turning away from the sight of the Skrull civilization, Warpath began to make the long journey back to his home in the caves. A gust of wind filled his nose with a scent that made him stop in his tracks. It wasn't the scent of a Skrull patrol unless the soldiers had learned to mask their acrid scent. It was different, almost like a half forgotten memory. It was foreign to this place. It reminded him of... home. He broke into a brisk jog towards the smell but remained wary. It could very well be a trap set up to draw him out. But this was the most hope he had felt in ages, and he would damned if he let the opportunity slip from his grasp. Time had passed, more time than he remembered. He was losing himself the longer that he was in his astral form beginning to forget what it felt like to sleep, to eat, to speak, to breathe. His body, in the care of his trusted manservant, was so very far out of his reach, and the spectral thing that had once been Dr. Stephen Strange was beginning to not care as much as he should. It frightened him... a little. Focus, Stephen he whispered to himself, speaking aloud because the sound of his voice was an anchor to the human part of himself. "Omnipotent Oshtur, protect your servant in this unholy place," he prayed, as he traveled invisibly through the place of these creatures, these dark creature that were not of any species that he knew, or any race... they lived, they thrived, they were here in this place but what was this place. His head spun and the confusion that was the loss of self drove him to disperse... Until a spark caught at him, a flicker of life from the place he came from. What was that place called? It didn't matter. One of his own was here, and he followed that spark like it was a lifeline. He saw something, someone coming, and it was not the monsters that dwelled in this place. Forcing all of his strength to gather, he brought a semblence of tangibility to his astral form, and he fell to one knee, but color flooded into him, and he found strength in it. Struggling to his feet, he held out a hand, "One as lost as I, stop please, and grant me a moment." Having followed the smell to its most intense point, James was startled by the specter that first appeared as a washed out image before solidifying before his eyes. He struggled to speak and his voice came out rough and gravelly from lack of use. "Wha-? Who are you? Wait," James racked his brain for a long forgotten memory. I should know this man. Not from having met him but from something else. A Danger Room simulation? Yes that's it. "I know you. Strange. Dr. Strange. The mystic man. How can this be?" "Strange," the man whispered, "Yes... my name is Strange. I'd forgotten for a moment. I've been trapped in the aether for ... how long? What day is it? What month? Year? I've been lost, lost for some great unfathomable time." Strange put a scarred hand to his forehead, and he took a deep breath, "I am the illusion of a mystic man, I am a ghost of a trickster, but I have purpose that makes what I am necessary. I was the protector of the Yellow Gem of Reality, infected by its reweaving of the fabric of the universe, so that it has made me something more... but that something was attacked by those monstrous beings who claim this place, and they claim the world we both come from. Your name? Have they stolen it from you? Have they claimed your identity?" Warpath chuckled harshly at the image's question. "Your guess is as good mine, Doc. They snatched me in October. I know it has been months since then, maybe a year. I lost track a while ago." The illusion talked of gems and the fabric of the universe and other things that were beyond James's level of comprehension. Perhaps the good Doctor had gone mad, but James was hungry for news of the other side. "My name is James Proudstar. I am an X-man, codename Warpath. They tried. Came pretty close to succeeding, too. I was able to break free and kill the Skrull who was supposed to replace me. That's what they call themselves, Skrulls. The damn shapeshifters can change into anybody they like but they need something from us, like a blood sample, in order to copy our powers. That's how they have been replacing us. That's why they bring us here. As long as they can keep a mutant in captivity they can keep churning out copies of us. I don't know how many they have taken. I know there were others before me and I'm sure there have been more since. I can't find where they are keeping the others. I've searched but I'm only one man, and they have an army." Perhaps it was vain hope, but James was heartened to know that the Skrull were not in control of Earth, at least not yet. Perhaps he had done some good in his time on the planet. Any resources they had to divert in dealing with him were resources that could not be used in their war on humanity. "An X-Man..." Strange said, "Ah, this makes sense then. The X-Men are a resilient sort, heroes even if the world thinks otherwise. Humans are a frail and frightened species. They'll fall where you were able to fight. They need you to fight, James Proudstar, can you fight until there is nothing left of you?" He looked at the man, "Yes, you can, because you're an X-Man. It's what you do." He reached out, catching James's arm, "I can find the others as I found you. I can lead you to them." His solidness flickered for a moment, "My time is short though, Warpath. One of these Skrulls, as you say they are called, nearly undid me. It is only by the grace of Deathless Vishanti that I was able to escape, but not whole, as you see not whole. If I don't return to my body soon, I will be be lost... help me, X-Man, and I will help you." His voice was strong, but there was an emptiness in his eyes that would only grow the more energy he expended. James nodded tersely. "My life is forfeit, Doctor. The only thing that has kept me going this far is that I may still be of some help to those on the other side." He caught the weakened figure as it swayed. "Stay with me Doc. What do you need me to do?" Dr Strange closed his eyes and then the color faded from him, the tangibility shifting into a ghostly fuzziness. Just... James Proudstar... I ask that you remember me. As long as I have an anchor, I will not become part of the mists. If I lose my purpose, remind me. If I lose myself, say my name. Is that too much to ask from you? Warpath watched the Doctor fade with growing apprehension. "Sure, Doctor Strange. I can do that." He cradled the disappearing figure. He wasn't sure how that would help but he could do that. He would go around repeating the name of the sorcerer every day if that's what it took. "You just keep your end of the bargain." Stay strong then, James, Dr. Strange said, I will return when I've found where they're keeping the others. He affixed those exhausted and empty eyes on the X-Man, Stay strong... or the world falls. Then, he was gone. James straightened up after the doctor vanished. For the first time in ages, he had hope, real hope. He had a purpose. Perhaps with the help of the Sorcerer Supreme he could finally strike back at the foes that taken everything from him. |
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2:17 PM Jul 11