|The Domino Effect
Author: BlackTearsofBlue PM
Timelines; delicate streams of a river, can converge, twist, destroy and create. Lore's fate is not stable. The Oracle of Tears has determined multiple outcomes of the end, and Lunar White is the force that begins the Domino Effect. May contain parings. Oc's accepted.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,113 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 11-26-12 - Published: 10-02-12 - id: 8574731
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Writer does not own Artix Entertainment's Adventure Quest Worlds and the plot found. Only the main OC is theirs and some different aspects. This is thier first story on this site.
The barren wasteland was a desolate place.
Nothing roams these lands. The grey ground dry and cracked, the sky rolling with angry black storm clouds. The air hisses with ozone when purple lightning danced across the clouds, flashing a flamboyant entrance before disappearing quickly as it came.
A sudden scream of pain and anger. Suddenly, a silver blur smashes into the grey landscape, with such ferocity a large explosion of dust and debris was sent flying into the air in a large column. A staff, a long twisting of silver an ivory with an oval crystal nestled in golden curls at its tip, stabs into the ground a second later, a ways from the explosion, straight and weakly pulsing light green, stray purple crackling around it.
The dust blows away quickly by the wind, the chunks of blown up grey earth raining back down around the space of a deep crater where it once belonged. In the midst of the carnage, what had been the silver blur could be seen. It was a young woman in silver robes; eyes covered by long dusty grey hair as she finches and griped her shoulder, pale knuckles starting to drip with crimson as red seeps through the one immaculate silver cloth, dripping onto the dirt bellow. With grit teeth, she forces her unsteady legs to stand, shivering form pain.
"How weak." A smooth voice chuckles darkly, and the woman, though unsteady on her feet, nimbly leaps away and narrowly avoids being cleaved in two by a huge blade, powerful and beautiful, the ground splitting easily like slightly melted butter to accommodate its force. The young woman in silver lands above, at the rim of the crater, hand clutching her wounded shoulder now glowing light green, the bleeding starting to thin. "I thought you could do better than this." A flash of purple, and the double handed sword was sliced out from the earth, scaring the land with a deep and large cut, the wicked blade gleaming.
The young woman did not answer, only stretching out her bloodied hand, and the stain on her shoulder not increasing in size as the bleeding had stopped. As the blood dripped from her fingertips, she pointed with her forefinger, and started chanting in an odd language sounding like running water, finger quickly swiping the air and creating a burning symbol of crimson and light green, literally into the air. It looked almost like a thin swirl with vines and wings in a semicircle.
Her opponent smirks, heavily armored body of grey purple and sharp spikes netted with toxic purple tenses up as large draconic wings flares open, and with a small flap he burst from the ground, air borne, twisting and twirling at supper high speed in a zigzag pattern.
The woman finishes her chanting, the rune a finally finished circle and starts to spin around and around, creating a circle of red and light green. The light green then fills it up, forming a small flat circle of energy, and she plunges her hand trough it, the appendage sinking into it like it was a pool of water.
Her opponent spun in the air, diving down like a hawk, and swung his blade in an arc.
A silver glint, a pause, then an explosion of purple and red.
-(The vision blurs, and is replaced)-
Pitch black surroundings. Frigid cold air. Sky was pouring. Coppery smell of blood mixed in with rain.
A flash of lightning, this time normal; a piercing white. It lights up the stormy sky, for a split second a natural flashlight. It disappears, only for more to replace it, as its rumbles finally reach the ears of those in the ruins. One figure, kneeling on the ground, flinches as a second towers over them, pressing something down to their forehead, forcing them to look up.
Something long and slender; dangerous. Something that glints silver even on such a shadowy night.
It was a silver barrel. A barrel of a gun.
Lightning flashes, this time joined by a few more, lighting up the sky in a chaotic yet elegant dance of power as they lit up the world. The scene it unveils was seen clearly for the first time; a young man with wide tired eyes, hair slicked back by rain, kneels. A hooded figure in grey, an arm out stretched with a finger on the trigger of the gun, a shadowed face. A third, one not so easily seen, stands to the side in all black, hooded as well.
Around them sat ruined furniture, wooden structures forcibly fractured, laying in pieces. Granite rubble from broken down walls littered the ground. The skeleton of the once mighty tower stands in forlorn, its columns reaching out to the sky as if in anguish. A stone head of a dragon statue lay on the ground, its body lost and face in a silent roar. The carpet stays red, red from spilled blood, mixing with the spattering rain.
The young man, his armor of gold and ebony now broken, dented and exposed deep wounds in places, grits his teeth as his hand, within a gauntlet, grips tightly around the handle of a sword; its silvery grey blade inlaid with golden runes and the hilt decorated with an oval ruby, as red as his once bright cape, now tattered and black, ruined with all the blood it soaked. The rain runs rivers down his face, meeting their end as they dripped off his chin, mixed in with crimson from a wound from his forehead. His eyes were sorrowful, and he seems to be crying
A click from the gun, as a slender finger curls around the trigger.
"You can't stop me, after all." The grey hooded figure speaks, their voice just above a hushed whisper. "We both share the title of Champion, but you can't kill me." The voice, smooth and trickles like honey, says with the coldest of ice "You're still too soft, after all." A small sound, sad, almost like a sigh. "Even… the Empress…put up a harsher fight."
The young man swallows, trying to swallow down the feelings he was bottling inside "It was unfair to begin with." He says with a small smile, eyes looking into the hood, as if searching for something "You know I would never be able to battle my friends with all my strength. You took advantage of that." He gave a humorless laugh, but came out as a cough, blood trickling down his chin."The person I used to know would never do such a thing."
The hooded figure was silent, gun still raised, finger on trigger. The one in all black tilts their head to the pouring sky, not making a sound. The grey one then bent down to the ground, the other hand reaching out to the young man. He doesn't move as the arm reaches for him, simply staying still as he was pulled close, into an embrace, resting each other's head on the others shoulder, and closes his eyes, a bitter smile on his face.
Lightning flashes again, light even more piercing than the rest as thunder roared like a caged animal, and some of it manages to catch a glimpse of the person within the hood. A slender chi, pale skin identifies their gender as female. Though the eyes remain a mystery, it was apparent she was weeping, her bottom lip bit by her teeth. Then, those lips moved, whispering something that was drowned out by the rain and thunder.
The finger tightens on the trigger, and some words were finally heard.
The gun fires. Crimson splatters
-(It fades away, and leaves a bright scene, black and white as if drawn on paper)-
A young girl holds something in her hands, her mouth moving yet muttering no words. She peers down, her eyes covered by bangs as she frowns at the small injured bird in her hands, her plain dress with long sleeves fluttering in the wind. A black splat on the ground, the grass stained.
The girl then smiles sadly, and her hands seemed to take on a glow. The gird twitched, seemingly trying to grasp on its second chance at life. The girl breaks into a silent opened mouthed smile, and the glow starts to become brighter, its light brilliant, the energy taking on the flickering of flames.
The bird soon manages to stand on its small feet, and flew away as the girl opens her hands, sparkles trailing after its tail feathers.
The girl seems to be laughing, twirling around on her small bare feet.
She never notices the shadowy figure watching her from a distance, holding a crushed flower, smiling wickedly as his fanged teeth dripped with blood, crimson against all the black and white, eyes red with malice, and draconian wings flapping, invisible, behind him, bound by chains of ebony.
黑和白。 Black and White. 黑和白。
His eyes snapped open, and his sits up, tears leaking down his cheeks. It was night.
Those were not his usual simple dreams; he thinks as he sits up, cradling his head with both hands, the visions still fresh in his eyes. Stories played out before his eyes, of the past, near future and a future.
Silver, woman in grey, small child.
Rising Champions. A dark future, a mysterious past.
He quickly wipes off his tears, feeling the liquid burn his skin like boiling water. Ignoring it, he extends a hand and an orb of glassy liquid appears in a burst of blue. Images of his visions though, sometimes danced across it surface, like an image formed on the surface of water. Another flick of his wrist, it shrinks down from the size of a head to a walnut, now glowing blue with a rune blazing with a lighter shade like the sky. The young man's skin was pale under the blue glow, and under his eyes are dark circles.
He could feel a migraine coming on. He had to finish this quickly.
He quickly clasps his hand around the blue orb, squeezing it as if crushing it as a brilliant blue light shines through his fingers, illuminating the dark room as blue pulsed out from the fist in a circle, charging up a few runes in the room and making them glow dimly blue. The young male opens his fist, and the orb had condensed into crystal. He held it up before him.
It was snatched away from his palm in a flurry of fur and wings, and was gone.
The male glanced at the full moon, imagining howls of wolves and the clashing of swords.
And one name, as the silvery white glow of the moon crept onto his window still.
Bright moon round, Bright moon white.
-_-Authors Note -_-
This story needs some OC's. And I would appreciate if anyone would like to put a character for me to use :D Oh… I need some guy to be the Oracle of Tears (The guy in the scene above) because I ran flat out of ideas for characters. I would rather if you PM me so no one would know the character you made would exist, until I introduce them! I don't want spoilers so early.
Also, I will not accept overpowered poorly written descriptions because I will not understand -_-