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The Legendary Weapon (STAR)
Topic Started: Dec 20 2013, 04:15 PM (893 Views)
Wackman
The frozen lake was covered in a shroud of darkness over a sheet of snow; a void and dark winter night, devoid of wind, devoid of falling snow, a peacefully deadly night. A single whisper could travel unaffected across the lake from lips to ear. It was not mother nature that disturbed this piece, gunshots were heard, followed by the sound of loud motors and lots of screaming. So peaceful it was, you could easily discern the hostile tone, and the colorful language.

A white sedan was ejected from the road, twirling beautifully in the sky before crashing in the lake, smashing and turning before it came to a halt near the middle of frozen water. Beams of light came from the road; doors slammed shut as several armed men came out, thirsting for blood.

A single body dragged itself out, seemingly unharmed, and pushed himself to his feet. He was panting heavily as he saw his assailant step forward. He ducked behind his vehicle which was the only cover. He took a pistol, and pulled the trigger.

*click* *click*

You could also hear him gulp the saliva. He was outnumbered 6 to 1 but as luck would have it, they seemed to be running low on ammo also. They wielded blades, and he spotted several failing to unleash a bullet also. He removed himself from cover as he waited for them. His left arm dangling to his side and covered in blood, as his right gripped the pistol.

There were no words exchanged. These people wanted this man dead. One of them lunged at him with a katana. Suddenly, a bright flash of light emanated from the handgun, enough to distract the assailant enough for the man to step in and plant a blade in his neck. He didn’t stop, as he quickly took out the dagger, and t shifted, again into a nun chuck that hit one of the assailants across the face.

It was quite the magnificent spectacle. The weapon light up with each shift, and each swing brought forth a different weapon, a hatchet, mace, a flail, a short sword, a small knife, often shifting mid-swing, a true light show as their weapons clashed together. The lone warrior was holding his own, but the last assailant managed to pierce his heart while he was in mid-swing. A great sword cleaved through the last assailant’s neck, as it planted itself in the lake where all the bodies now laid.

The weapon light up once more, shifting into a man wearing a dark suit with a fedora to conceal his face. He looked down at the lone warrior that wielded him.

“Oh dear…” he said simply devoid of any emotion.

“Now…. Where to…next…” he asked out loud, his seemingly pulsing from his very being.
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Star
Devastation. Destruction. Chaos. It was all that ensued behind Fiora's home, but had she cared she probably would have charged out and helped. Though, without her blade she was only good if she could get into a blind spot to assist the single man that fought off six assailants. He seemed to be a meta-human, with the way the blade changed between other different kind of weapons, changing to suit the needs of the situation. What Fiora would do with a weapon like that, was beyond even her comprehension. Granted, Fiora always loved a challenge. If it suited her, she'd charge out onto the ice once the man killed all six of them and cut him down for the weapon. Though she had no idea whether it was a cause of his abilities or just the object itself. It was best she waited.

Speaking of waiting, Fiora had walked out onto her deck wrapped in a black coat and sweats. In her hands was a hot cup of hot chocolate, steaming to her face and warming her cheeks to a cherry red color. The racket had stirred her from her thinking and caused her to get up and see what was going on. She all but leaned over the balcony and watched as the blood shed.

If it weren't for that last man getting his blade through the wielders heart, he may have actually won that fight. Given that his injuries didn't kill him after. Which was more likely then not he would have died from blood loss anyways. Fiora wasn't in the position to help anyone in need at the moment. Even if it meant stealing the weapon he wielded.

Luckily for the immortal she hadn't turned around after the man hit the ground, but stayed to watch the blood crystalize and soon form into the icy lake below. As she did, her jaw dropped in awe. The weapon shifted, turning into a man. That was an interesting turn of events to say the least. Fiora, unlike normal humans, had seen a lot of things in her lifetime. Three hundred years is quite a long time to some (maybe not everyone). Yet, she had never seen anything like that before. So the shock and awe expression stayed for a moment as she put her cup down and headed towards the stairs.

Thankfully she had snow boots on, and was able to cross the icy terrain without causing herself to slip and fall. Her huffing and puffing all but echoed through the now quiet lake. The very faint sound of sirens could be heard coming from the distance. There was no way that she was going to let something like this leave in the back of a cop car.

Fiora approached the man, her hands at her sides and a concerned look on her face. "Come with me." She offered, gesturing back in the direction she had come from. Whether or not the concern was truthful, it would be impossible to tell. There was something to gain in this, maybe for the both of them. Getting him away from the police and her some answers on just... what he was.

"I'm sure you don't want to be here when they arrive..." Her long silver hair brushing past her as a heavy wind picked up. The smell of blood and gun powder filling the air. It wasn't a scene that most could handle, but Fiora didn't seem phased in the slightest.
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Wackman
The sirens were heard, and he was looking forward to ensnare a police officer; a tool of justice to preserve law and order? As long as he was used, and as long as he was… His thoughts were cut short as he heard a female voice coming from behind him. No, how are you? No, What happened? A simple and brisk order to follow her, interesting. She must’ve witnessed it. The battle, his transformation… if she did, then everything will be much easier.

He turned his head away from the wreckage and toward the woman. She’d see the blank face he sported. No mouth, no eyes, but she’d feel his eerie gaze on her. He nodded simply.

He said as he turned to face her completely. The strong wind blew the hat away, and it vanished from sight. He stepped forward. He had pale skin; his skin was white, pure as the snow itself.

“Lead the way.”
He said simply.

Sure, he could’ve taken her hand. He could’ve shifted right then and there, and remained in her grasp, but that lacked the theatrics and would make him something that was easily swayed by whomever approached him, if the wielder couldn’t trust the weapon, then he didn`t fulfill his purpose.

Plus…. He does miss the good ol’ days when his legend was known, and people actively sought and fought to get their eager hands on him.
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Star
Fiora nodded her head when he agreed. The faceless man all but sent chills down her spin, but not because he had no face. Granted that was pretty creepy, but it was because she could feel the smirk that crossed his face AND could hear him speak. How was that even possible? Whatever the reason for it, Fiora would need to investigate that.

She led the way, and he followed thankfully. They'd make it to her home without a problem, taking the steps up to her balcony and to her wide open home. The glass that surrounded it made it easy and to see straight through the front yard, and the police vehicles that passed by. They didn't stop at her home, but the odds of them coming back were high, only because she was the closest to the incident. Other houses may have heard what was going on and seen from a distance, but there was no way they would have gotten involved, Fiora had only done it because... well for the obvious. The fact that he was a weapon and she was interested in everything about him.

The open home was welcoming, a fire was set and he would hear foot steps upstairs, but other then that it was silent after the sirens passed. There was nothing electronic other then the appliances in the kitchen; no computer nor television. Fiora lived a post-modern lifestyle and she fully enjoyed it.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked, gesturing him towards one of her barstools that faced the kitchen. "Also, if I may say, you're a magnificent creature. Shifting the way you did, so flawless and clean, it was but an art form in its purest sense." Fiora rounded the kitchen, her fingers trailing the marble countertops. She hoped that he was the talking type, because she was going to throw him questions and expect answers.

Maybe more then just answers, too.
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Wackman
“Your words are no exaggeration, but I am no ‘creature`” He said as he accepted the praise. Though, he did not fancy the word. He was no creature, but that… He would have to explain what he was, and what he wants.

“You witnessed my purpose of that I am most pleased.” He stepped toward the fire as he seemed to be looking straight at it.

“I am the perfect weapon, the end to means. Any means, any cause. My purpose is to aid whomever has the privilege of proving themselves to me. The man did so…. Yet now he is dead, and I find myself, yet again with no purpose. ” He sounded sad at the lack of objective. He was the manipulative sort. He saw through her words. She wants him. He wanted her. Anyone who sought a weapon would use it that was a fact. Thus would begin their little dance. The sacred ritual humans enjoyed of dancing around the issue before addressing it. He learnt they disliked the direct route, or maybe that was ingrained in his being?

“I appreciate you sparing me from the officers’ grasp.” He said as he turned to face her. He brought up his hand across his chest, and he gave a bow.

“As a reward, I will indulge you, and show you the extent of what I can do. Take my hand, and name your weapon of choice” He extended his pearly white hand.
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Star
He had caught her eye, but now he had her attention completely. A man that wasn't a man. A creature that wasn't a creature. A thing that was not a thing. He was the essence of anything and everything. It seemed confident in its words, and even if he had a hint of displeasure with the lack of a certain objective, Fiora couldn't help but want to dig deeper, know more; want more. With him at her side, she would be deadlier then she had been before. With her custom weapon, she couldn't shift into peoples blind spots, but with him she would be able to. Take a sword in and take the life of another without them or anyone being able to see her. He was the ultimate weapon and she was the ultimate wielder.

"I can give you a purpose." Her lips curled up even higher.

He thanked her, which wasn't necessary. There was something to gain both ways from helping him, and it was something she would not regret. Especially not after he offered to show her what he had to offer. To be able to take him into her hand and let him shift into whatever she wanted. He was giving her a high she hadn't had in a long time. Maybe she was too excited, but she didn't even say a word before reaching out her hand and taking hold of his.

There was little hesitation between when she took his hand and spoke out the weapon. "A khopesh if you will." The weapon was an Egyptian styled sickle-sword. The blade was longer, more curled outward, but deadly for anyone its in wake. It wasn't the most original types of blades, but it wasn't necessarily the most used. She would give him something much harder, but she wanted to see just how everything worked first.
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Wackman
His purpose was simply to be used, and give meaning to his eternal existence. This woman said those words with such emotion. Did she have a vendetta? Was she a warrior? A freedom fighter? So many questions as their hands united.

His body became ethereal, and infused with darkness as compacted himself perfectly with her grasp forming the initial hilt. Very light, no blade yet. She’d feel a tingling sensation; his dark energy pulsating through her arm, all the way to her brain. When he was incomplete, this was the process of how he’d suck his wielder’s soul into his being. A very slow process, but now it was merely to communicate directly with his wielder.

Her choice surprised him. He hadn’t been a khopesh in a long time…. A very good weapon to rip out someone’s shield, and its form was intimidating to say the least. The end of the hilt began to light up, a straight light that shattered into a straight sword, and from the base of the hilt there was a swirling dark energy that slowly crept up to the tip, bending the blade, sharpening it before her very eyes.

The hilt elongated slightly, and the blade was as long as her own arm. The colors of the blade and the hilt matched what Fiora was currently wearing.

“Here you are, your own Khopesh. Swing me… have a feel of it” He said as she could feel the weight of the weapon alternate, getting heavier, and lighter, pulsating slightly. A single swing would suffice to determine the ideal weight. The voice came not from the blade, however, but from deep within her mind.

“Or if you want…. Swing me three times, and think of a weapon, any weapon. Give you a true demonstration of how deadly I am” she could feel his grin as he spoke.
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Star
Feeling the blade in her hand, his shift and the weight distribution and how perfect it was gave her a sense of such power. This weapon, this thing, this PERSON was truly amazing. There was a wicked smile that crossed her face as she ran her hand across the blade, the sharp edge slicing just a bit into her skin--but not enough to draw blood or cause pain. Fiora held her tongue, she had so many questions and so many statements to make but she felt silence was stronger then any word could express. This was magnificent, and the express that crossed her face was evidence of that.

He spoke, and like an echo in her head, Fiora couldn't ignore it. Like she wanted to or something.

Fiora held the hilt with her fingers, spinning the blade between each finger with ease. It was light in comparison to the blade that she wields. Moving her foot back she shifted her weight and took the blade into a tighter grasp and swung upwards. Cutting the air and sending the heavy gusting sound through the room. She obviously knew her way around a blade, and because of that he was her perfect companion.

He gave her an order to swing him three times, then think of a different weapon. His abilities stretched beyond just a single weapon, she could essentially swing in multiples of three as many times as she wanted, shift between different weapons to suit the situation, and become a weapon of, literally, destruction.

First swing was downwards, second was off to the side, and with her final third swing she spun around and thought of her own custom blade. If he was as truly as powerful as he says, then a blade one of its kind should be no problem. Fiora had grown up wielding such a blade, and because of it she knew every inch of it from grip to tip. How heavy it was, the color and sharpness of its blade. Her detail on the blade would not be the reason he couldn't form into it...

Could he form into the ultimate blade, that would now not be hindered by her downfall?
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Wackman
Had he had a spine, a shiver would come down it. There was something of a thrill when he found someone that sought such pleasure out of wielding, when they realize how truly magnificent he was… No doubt she was going to use him. He wanted her to. Use him, night and day, to tear all of her enemies apart, and several more. Start a war with the nearest city, and see how many she can take on, but… to kill everyone will mean no one to swing him when she ultimately dies, either in battle or down the river of time.

He noted her posture. What luck, he found himself a warrior. He couldn’t wait to see her technique. Each passing second felt like an eternity, and he knew it wouldn’t disappoint. Although… she pictured a single weapon in mind, it was beautiful, but maybe it was his own fault for lacking precision.

No matter. He’ll pick the weapons at random, and keep the same weight as not to throw her off the momentum.

He turned into a long sword with the downward swing: Beautiful steel blade, sharp, clear with lacerations on the side for added effect.

The 2nd swing, he turned into a golden Falchion. The hilt was beautifully decorated, shiny, and softer to the touch.

The third swing… there she was… The blade she pictured beautiful right in her grasp and all he needed was the blink of light. He matched the texture, the feel she pictured in her mind, as if he looked deep in her memory to bring it to life.

“Hoho…. Such a beautiful weapon” He praised.

The weapon itself was effectively a perfect replication. It had the weight, the sharpness, the design, the only thing it might lack was whether or not it was made of a specific material that he has not yet touched or if it had properties beyond a simple weapon.

“You mentioned giving me purpose. You know how to swing a blade that is true. You also know your weaponry. What will be my purpose if I give myself to you?”
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Star
His praise fell to her ears like a compliment to herself. Her weapon was forged by her mother with such dignity and pride that it meant the world to Fiora. Even if it wasn't the actual blade, it was so damn close she could barely tell that it wasn't the real one. Granted, the wielder and its weapon shared a bond like a child and mother, so she knew that it wasn't the right one. That didn't mean she wouldn't use it, and she wouldn't hate it either. Once she retrieved the actual one, she would finally do what she had planned on doing quite some years ago. It would finally become a piece of her collection in her array of stolen artifacts under her home.

"It is beautiful, isn't it..." Fiora said with a grin curling at the corner of her lips. She raised the blade without worry, and swung it off to the side. The very tip slicing through the floor tile without anything slowing it down. She could destroy her living room in seconds with this weapon, so swinging it around like she was wasn't the best thing to do. Even if would be sort of fun.

There was the question that Fiora had been waiting for. What purpose could he give him? She already had a purpose in life, even if that had just recently changed to a more personal reason, it was still something she was striving towards. In essence, if he became hers he would adopt her future, her purpose, her life. There was so much to say, so much time to say it, but did she want to wait? Fiora didn't want him to think her indecisive of what her goal was, and so with that she rested the tip of the blade down onto the ground and leaned off to the side, and explained.

"I'm an immortal by blood, and for that I've had many purposes in my life. You would become molded into my purpose, as such you'd be mine and I would be yours. My purpose is to better this city, and one day the world." There had been many that would say such things, whether it be for personal gain or anything else, but Fiora had many reasons for wanting to do it. "I will not die in sixty to eighty years of old age. Death has held its grasp on me before and I have fought to come back. If you choose to be by my side you are looking at an eternity of being wielded by one. Until the day someone takes my life by means of force. Your purpose would be to stand by my side and see my purpose... fulfilled."

Fiora would then release the weapon, she wanted him to stand before her as he had before shifting into the weapon. He would not always be in weapon form, he would stand beside her like the warrior he was. There was no shame in standing something you're proud of, and if he was ready for an eternity of commitment, Fiora would gratefully and proudly stand beside him in any form.
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