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Old 11-27-2012, 12:25 AM   #112
NiteMare Shape
Livin' like a Sheen
 
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Join Date: Aug 2007
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Default Re: Create-A-Hero RPG Season IV IC Thread

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Originally Posted by NiteMare Shape View Post
Deep within the bowels of their mountainside hideaway, The Forsaken and the other followers of Blackwind gathered around the famous Tikal crystal skull, in the hopes that it would provide the power needed to allow their master to essentially tear a hole in the fabric of reality, and allow him to cross into our universe.

The man known as The Forsaken stood beside his comrades, and the only woman who has stood beside him since the day he was transformed into the monster that he is today, Allura. He placed the skull on an alter in the center of the room, an alter that was there more for show than necessity, and awaited for their master.

"Everything is ready?" Blackwind's voice boomed from seemingly nowhere as the dark lord slowly materialized before his followers.

"It is, Lord. We can begin." Forsaken answered.

With that, Blackwind moved like a wraith toward the alter and stood before the crystal skull. Eons of anticipation had prepared him for this moment, and after a moment's pause he reached his etheral hand out and sunk it into the crystal skull.

Suddenly, the dark chamber was bathed in a bright white light as a strong wind ripped into the room.

After several moments, the light storm died down, and once their eyes had readjusted to the dark, they found their Lord, standing in front of a the blacked skull, still a prisoner in his otherworldly prison.

Blackwind gazed down at the charred skull which sat upon the alter. As a silence fell over the darkened chamber, the formerly pristine crystal skull began to crumble, until it was nothing more than a pile of blackened ash.

"No." the dark lord said to himself as be faded from view.



***

Forsaken and Allura sat in the darkened chamber, dejected after their failure to bring Blackwind into our world, unable to understand what had gone wrong. After sitting in silence for what had seemed to be an eternity, they were almost startled by the cold, metallic voice of the android Helos chime in from across the chamber.

"Of course." The android had said.

Curious, The Forsaken made the trek across the dark chamber to where the android sat in front of a bank of computers.

"You found something?" Forsaken asked.

"Indeed. The skull should have provided enough power to allow Blackwind to cross over into our dimension. It did contain enough energy to do this successfully. However, the skull itself was unstable. When the Master added his own power to the skull's, the skull was unable to contain it, which resulted in the catastrophic failure which we witnessed."

"And that alone presents us with another problem."

"No, it does not. I have already located a suitable source of power which should be stable enough to bring the Master here...and it is close, buried within the Lost Haven city limits."


"This can't be it." The Forsaken says in bewilderment as he stands in side the tomb, looking down at the open casket that Helos was sure held the power source that would finally bring Lord Blackwind into this world.

"Rest assured Forsaken, this is it. Inside that casket lies the power source that our Master needs."

"I don't understand how that can be. He's dead." Forsaken says as he looks into the casket at its occupant. A hero who had gone above and beyond the call of duty more than once, until finally making the ultimate sacrifice to save the world from utter destruction.

"Yes, that is true. However, the body still contains a great amount of power, and his body's invulnerability should provide the stability that we need to bring our master here."

Forsaken looked again at the body of his fallen foe, still not convinced that his lifeless body is the key to their victory.

"How can you be sure, Helos?"

"I have done the calculations. If you want more proof that what I say is true, just look at his body."

"What of it?" he asks, still gazing at the corpse.

"It is in perfect condition. No trace of decay. Icon has been dead for over a half of a year. He should be an empty husk by now, yet he is perfectly preserved. The body's invulnerability protects him even in death. Trust me, this is the key."

***

Like a gust of wind, Blackwind appeared behind his followers as they stood before the open casket. A cold chill washed over the tomb announcing his presence as he stepped toward the casket.

"Is everything ready?" He asks as he looks into the casket, an evil smirk crossing his face.

"It is my lord."

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"What is that, Lord?"

"For years, he fought against me, doing everything he could to keep me confined in my prison, and now...it is because of him that I am able finally return to this world and reshape it I see fit."

With that, Blackwind reached into the casket, touching the corpse and was immediately hit with an erruption of light that emminated from inside the casket. Soon, he was engulfed in a raging torrent of wind and flame which seemed to fill the entire tomb, yet burned no one. It was a sight like none other, for even the man known as Forsaken seemed shaken by what was transpiring, and truth be told might have even felt the slightest tinge of panic had his cybernetic soul allowed it.

When the wind and flame died down, they stood before Him...their dark lord made flesh. He was hunched over slightly as his senses cleared. As he felt the cold stone beneath his feet, he stood up straight, and took his first steps on this earth in millenia.

"Finally...I am free." He said, his voice rumbling in his chest.

"I told you My Lord, we would not fail you."


"Indeed you did, and soon...you will stand at my side as we bring this pitiful world into a golden age...but first, I must rest. Escaping that infernal prison has made me weak. When I am at full strength, we shall take this planet as our own...and anyone who would dare oppose us will be ground to dust beneath or heels."


As Blackwind and his followers left Icon's tomb, they they did not notice the tiniest movement coming from within the casket, the twitch of a finger, or the subtle movement of the fallen hero's chest as air once again raced into his lungs.




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