To Prevent The Darkness

Looking up at the stars from whence he came. Injecting himself into the deep blackness of the vast cosmos. Ryan's mind drifted, from the beginning of it all to the end of everything, to the rebirth of recreation and the bloodshed needed to from it to past. His mind was full of existential thoughts and he let them consume him for a while. Questions such as: Why are they stuck in this endless loop of war and violence? When was the first cycle? Who created the cycle? These questions distracted him from his mission and allowed him times of peace and thinking. The grass underneath his skin as he view the night sky and the gentle breeze that the wind brought calmed the raging fire from within the Son of Muspelheim.

His eyes darted as he watch stars fall from above, despite them not really being stars. As he closed his eyes, letting the scene of tranquility consume him. The fires from within pulled him in a direction that he has never been before. Warning him about a new entity that may be a threat to the development of humanity, ultimately the event of Recreation. He tuned out the raging calls from his internal flames as he turned into himself and focused his wandering thoughts into memories of his home.

Muspelheim, the one of his time, was a place of many wonders. From the sunrises and the many beast that wondered the molten floors to the multicolored lavafalls and the fountains that seemed to control the smoke from the Eternal flame. To many other clients, Muspelheim was an intergalactic tourist spot. People from all around came to see the flames of the King of Fire, and Young Ignaitcus got to watch as well. He watched in awe as the flames that were to set the universe on fire, were the same flames that wooed children and adults alike. Even when not in war time, the All-Father came down to see these lightshows. From seeing these lightshows and the happiness of those who came, made Young Ignaitcus want to release his inner flame as well. His father guided him all the way.

Combat was taught to him at an early age, not by force, but my choice. Ignaticus, being the vessel for the End of Times, wanted to please his father. He learned to specialized to wield the longsword which, other than his father's sword, was a rarely picked weapon. Many teachers from far and wide taught the Young Fire in many ways to wield a blade. Ignaticus remembered the times he fell he, was pushed over, stabbed, had a limb removed, almost decapitated, but the sheer determination to please his father almost mitigated the pain to none. He continued fighting, committing acts for his father to prove himself worthy of the weapon he wields now.

He admired those times, but knew that things were different now. Ryan turned into a blaze as he showed his true nature to the creatures in the midst of the plain land. The fires licked the grass, but never caught on an act of Ignaticus protecting the land around him. His internal flame nearly pulled him in the direction of his next mission. Their face was unknown to him, but the flames inside would guide him as he went along. He turned to the creatures that watched him in both Awe and fear and spoke "Thank you for accepting me in your home. I am forever grateful and will visiting back often" He bowed slightly as he adjusted his footing. He kneeled down upon one leg on the earth below him, and placed his burning hand upon the cold ground. Determination loomed over his eyes as he focused on the clearing ahead of him, in the direction his mission. Sparks were ignited behind the foot of the kneeling leg, and then an explosion as he was thrusted forward. He was running at just over Mach 2, and was gaining momentum. Then he timed those explosions again and used the strength in his legs to propel himself upwards. This was all he needed to get to his destination. While the forest remained unscathed

He soared through the air seeming like a shooting star from below. As he passed entire states with that single bound. At the climax of his trajectory, the flame that guided him began to externalize and showed him the shape of a woman. It feed him her name and lineage. Hearing the name of the one who spawned her brought (metaphorical) chills up against his spine, but he had to complete his mission. Aliyah, Daughter of Dorcor, was the one that he was looking for. A potential factor to the stopping of Rebirth. He crashed down upon the ground as he landed in his destination. His fall unearthed the asphalt around him. And the civilians were scared of the Man of Muspel. "Be not scared citizens of this city, I only require one person. Aliyah, because she may be a threat to your very existence. And I wish to relieve you of this danger for your sake and mine."

@aliyah_:

@ryan_mckinley: OOC: Do you want me to post my magic powers first or do you just want me to PM you a short list of what she can do. I noticed you dug deep to find out who she was, lol

@aliyah_:

DMing me a short list is good enough!

@ryan_mckinley:

There was a buzz in the air. The animals could sense it stir as the wind slowed to a standstill. They didn't know what it was, but it had the feeling of a hunter, a hunter searching for its prey. They knew it was not of this Earth. It didn't belong, yet they could feel it approach. The runners would tense, the fur on their back raised to attention. The flyers would shift their feathers, balancing their weight as they waited for their leader to ascend on high. Each would look at one another waiting for it to reveal itself and pounce. The raw emotion of anger and melancholy would rise, matching the sound of the animals in attendance. It continued to rise as did they then...they scattered.

A visage would begin to form from the air itself, as if it was spawned from it. Its features became more prominent as it did human, the shape of a woman now clearly visible though she carried an aura about her that seemed just out of reach, as if it were a dream. Her walk gently stepped through the air and onto the green lush fields. The young, white haired woman would look about, slowly inhaling the brisk air which entered inside her. Aliyah had arrived.

This is the realm of the Deliverer? She questioned as she grasped a nearby flower. How quaint and underwhelming. Her attention would shift upward toward the clear blue sky , noticing a streaking object in the sky. A Son on Muspell? Her eyes would open wide as her words carefully escaped her hips. She had never met such a creature, but heard whispers of them among the dimensions. This realm did not possess the famed aroma of sulfur or its damned flaming pits. This was not Muspelheim nor was its rival Asgard or NIflheim. A smirk would stretch across her face as she knew she guided her path toward direct realm. The deliverer is from Midgard. Very interesting.

She would slowly trail the path the Son of Muspell had created. They were of the beginning and the end, but lacked the true vision of ending. It had grasped her. Molded her. It had to submit to the authority which she claimed. She could sense negative emotions build not to far off. There were many gathered, but the emotions were the same - it was that of fear and anxiety, something that fueled the land which she was birthed and it called her.

________________

Job sat alone at a table, a warm scotch grasped in hand as its contents slowly burned his chest as he drank it. He had become numb to the news of his stage four cancer. He would sit and stare as life seemed to pass him bye. He knew it would do so once he had left this plane of existence.

How you doing, Job?..

If you need anything just give me a call...

My prayers are with you...

He did not need any platitudes. He was dying. He knew it. People just didnt know how to act around him.

Death has a habit of doing that, she would say as she appeared across the table from Job. Job would look into her blue eyes, mesmerized by the dream before him. They can see it, but are afraid to get really close to it.

Job would blink once, his jaw remained agape from her appearance.. Uhm...do you have a name?

I am Aliyah. She said with a smile. You have accepted death in your life. I can see that in you.

I do not fear death. I found that out a long time ago, he would say firmly, confident in his answer.

Aliyah would take hold of his free hand, looking him calmly in the eyes. Death is far worse than any can imagine. Accepting what it is helps, but you can never be prepared for it. It is...

________________

"Be not scared citizens of this city, I only require one person. Aliyah, because she may be a threat to your very existence. And I wish to relieve you of this danger for your sake and mine."

Take care, Job, Aliyah said as she arose from her seat. It will be quick.

Job sat back in his chair, taking in what she had said to him. Just as fast as she appeared she would vanish, as did the spark of life that he clung to. Job had lived his life but his death would be easier than what she had witnessed.

The Son of Muspell had mentioned her name. She had heard they had been a hot-headed bunch, more bark than bite. She would walk through the crowd not aware of her, locking eyes on him. It should be your sake you should be worried about, Son of Muspell. The halo of the Black Name would erupt around her head revealing her true lineage. I am Aliyah. I am the one you seek. It is...inevitable.

@aliyah_: Great! You'll get your response around Thursday!

The New God of Muspelheim watched as his mission came to him without much resistance, it seemed. She was more bone than meat, giving him the impression that he could possibly take her on with physical force, but through his training in his home world it was also told to him that looks can be deceiving. The infernos that leapt off his coal-black body licked the ground below and the air above in a blaze. “That is correct, it is inevitable” He spoke, as he took his sword in hand and took the Japanese stance known as Seigan on Midgard. The blade studied its opponent, it began to it comfortable and found where it will cut its opponent to complete the Cleansing Process. Ignaticus moved forward in what seemed like a dance. His blade twirled around him at all sides as it began to lose its individuality and become a sheer blur of fire. Black smoke came from both the sword and its user and extended towards the environment. Ignaticus continued to step forward, having no doubt that she can still see him, as he continued twirling the blade.

His motions flowed gracefully as he closed the space between him and his opponent. Through the posture of his opponent and the nature of her attire, it was only natural to assume her preferred weapons as the art of magic. He vanished into a pillar of infernos. A silent pause in the intensity of the heated body filled the air, until he appeared again this time a few inches in front of her. As he appeared, once again with the flames that can burn the sun, his blade soared as it ripped the oxygen within the air with the sheer intensity of its heat and unnatural speed. Time wouldn’t be his opponent’s ally as not much of it was left from the blade hitting its target, from the sheer steel cutting through his opponent’s flesh. Yet, in the fatality that was his attack, it wasn’t the only offense that Ignatius had in mind.

This wasn’t a simple sparring match for the Son of Surtur, but a battle to eradicate a threat that missed with his plans. No, he didn’t plan on simply hurting her, he had to rid the world of her, body and soul. From the astral plane, Ignatius's astral body began to take a mind of its own. While Ignatius's carnal being would strike with intensity and grace: his ethereal body, powered by the spiritual flames presented to him by his father, would begin to purge his opponent’s soul with flames of the supernatural. Sword and Spirit fought together as Ignatius continued to strike, and strike mercilessly.

Whether or not his first attack (physical or astral) struck, he would not give her the time to move in a fashion that would seem to benefit her. Conjurers of magic all needed one thing, their hands and hers were exposed. He knew the precision and thought needed to conjure a spell because he practiced them himself. So he pressed heat and flames around the areas of her hand, and harden flames and held them in his empty hand, hoping to use it as a dagger. While, the sword continued to drive its at his opponent’s neck and torso, the dagger was aimed at the wrist of his opponent. While all of this was occurring, Ignaticus’s bodily temperatures began to steadily increase to remove oxygen from the air. All in hopes of finishing this off as quickly as possible.

@aliyah_: