@mercy_: That totally wasn't meant to appeal to you >_>
Last_Guardian's forum posts
LG, S.T.R.I.K.E., and possibly WAL's in as well.
From the Ashes...
Just like that, with a loud crack that deafened the world to a singing buzz, the floor gives way, the Gothic Defender tries to grab into something, anything, but it all fell to pieces in his hands. He goes feet first, with the boys still wrapped tightly around his ankles. He can feel the vibration of the wood and dry wall clashing against their soft backs through his legs, feel the wet blood soaking his cover alls. Martha's head flapped back and forth into his back, until they landed and the entire building fell on them, the silhouettes of a few dozen other bodies the last thing he sees, before darkness engulfs him.
Yoooo. This was impactful.
And some of the best uses of images in a post I've ever seen.
Awesome writing. Hype renewed.
Trailing the loud motorcyclist, I silently moved through the rooftops until the Force warned me of another incoming threat. Leaping to to my right side, I narrowly avoided what appeared to be a superheated metal spike that effortlessly sliced through a section of the rooftop beside me. Rolling back onto my feet, I spied the group of soldiers dressed in orange and white that had so brazenly attacked me. They held in their hands exotic weaponry, such that I had never seen before. Acting on pure instinct and Force intuition, I moved my right hand up in front of my body, calling forth the mighty Shield of Alarnos just in time to intercept their next wave of attacks.
The impact of metallic spikes against unbreakable orichalum shield caused me to falter back momentarily, but swiftly, I moved forward once more, ready to answer their challenge. Moving at blinding speeds, I all-too-willingly dove into the chaos of war, a hurricane of fists, feet, and shield ready to educate all those who would rise against me. Although the length of their training and expertise in martial arts was apparent, my unique set of skills, deadly in close combat situations, was too much for even the most gifted among them to test.
In a relatively short amount of time, I had learned to become one with the Shield of Alarnos, and as such, I wielded it with extreme precision, flinging it effortlessly while aiming it at the heads of my attackers in an attempt to knock them unconscious. Soon, it was down to myself, already bruised through a series of glancing blows, and one last Martyr. Readying for a one-on-one throw-down, both myself and my opponent were immediately caught off guard by a pair of explosions, one in the distance, another one much closer.
“Well that’s not good," I uttered, nonchalantly dodging the Marty’s hay-maker and reciprocating with my own which connected in full and sent him flying backwards.
Summoning the shield back to my forearm, I was overcome with an extreme anxiety before looking up to the night sky. "Holy shit," I cringed as my eyes met a sea of tiny black specks, each one a massive, earth shattering bomb that was nearing the city at incredible speeds. Automatically, my mind tried to formulate a way--any way--to stop the flock of destruction from making landfall, but there was no use. I could stop one, maybe two, but there were hundreds of them menacingly dotting the sky. Gothic City would be leveled, and there was nothing I could do.
In that moment, I would’ve undoubtedly searched for cover, erected a telekinetic force-field around me, and hoped for the best. But when the bombs were only seconds away from touching down, something else seized my attention.
“Haven,”I whispered, finally sensing her presence before the deafening BOOM of explosion-after-explosion overloaded my senses.With only my telekinetic armor to protect me, I was thrown forcefully against a building of solid granite, my back almost shattering from the tumultuous impact.
Drifting into and out of unconsciousness, I watched Gothic City burn, sorrow filling my heart for all those who had once proudly proclaimed the ill-fated city their home. But, among the flames and the ash, the pain in my bones, and the blood on my lips, a glimmer of hope shined nearby. Against all odds, Haven had survived. She was safe, and she wasn't alone, the Force signature of a very familiar figure standing right beside her.
“Stark. It’s a small world,” I greeted my once-enemy, spitting out a wad of bloodied saliva.
“Yeah, I do know her,”I confirmed with a smile, directing my gaze at the pretty green-eyed brunette.“Haven, I’m Jacob Grayson, the Last Guardian. Your father, Commissioner O'Shea, sent me here to find you. He’s very worried about you and--”
Aided by my Force senses, I could feel the Martyr's attack coming a mile away. Spinning on my heels, I grabbed his incoming fist and flipped him by the arm onto the ground, watching him land with a hard thud on the cracked concrete. "You're a persistent one, aren't you?" I smirked, directing a surge of steadily increasing electricity into his arm.
The enemy soldier screamed in agony as a burning sensation radiated across his body, his every pain receptor falling under my command.
"Who are you working for?" His look of defiance forced me to press on, channeling even more of the Force's power into his large frame.
"Come on, buddy, there's no way those weapons are standard issue, or even Maverick for that matter. WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?"
As the stream of electrical energy reached its crescendo, milliseconds away from forcing his body into violent pain-induced convulsions, the assailant desperately yelled one name; a name that carried quite a bit of weight in this city.
Looking back to the armored avenger and frightened activist, I land one strong punch to the soldier's cranium, immediately knocking him unconscious.
"Looks like you and I were brought here for a reason, Tin Man. What do you say we go bag ourselves the worst terrorist this world's ever known?"
I whispered, the tug of a palpable disturbance in the Force attempting to pull me off-course.
"I have a mission to do, damn it."But still, it remained, pulling at me, urging me to go where it wanted me to go, where it needed me to go.
"Haven O'Shea,"I uttered, this time, a little louder, a little more forcefully, affirming the fact that I was here for a reason. Last night, I had promised a good friend that I'd find his daughter, a daughter that had gone missing amidst the chaos of the United States' reclamation of Gothic City two weeks ago.
Clad in my stealth, navy blue-and-grey suit, I leap across the broken rooftops of the slumbering city, stopping at regular intervals to telepathically scan the area. Depending on how strong Haven's Force signature was, if she was within a mile of me, I'd be able to pinpoint her location within seconds. Yet, after seven hours and forty-five minutes of this, I kept getting...nothing.
A screeching of tires and the smell of burnt rubber permeated the air around me. Someone was in a rush. My curiosity piqued, I looked down to the street below to a see a motorcycle zooming through the streets. The white vehicle and its white-clad rider strongly stood out against the utter blackness of the dead city, and it was in this moment that the disturbance in the Force was more apparent than ever before. It desperately wanted me to follow him.
"Never ignore the call of the Force."
I suddenly and conveniently remember reading in one of the many sacred Guardian scriptures that I'd manage to get my hands on during my time in outer space.
"Fine!" I answer, through gritted teeth and a frustrated expression as I set out in the direction of the motorcyclist, falling into my Force stealth mode to avoid being detected by conventional means. Perhaps following the call of Force might end up leading me to the girl, though, in a city like this, I doubt anything would ever be that easy.