Half broken but flirting, it was turning out to be a night like any other for the hunter! A rather....parabolic....journey brought to him by a wind mage had seen him cruising into Rhy'Din General yet again to harass the night staff there as he got proper treatment....or it would have if Mach were a responsible individual. Instead, busted up thanks to the forces of gravity and Newton's Fifth law of smacking into the ground, Mach had found his way to a much more fitting venue for a bastard like him to seek aid – The Golden Perch Inn.
What' All he needed was a place for his regenerative potion to do it's thing....albeit painfully slow. Hence any place of recuperation absolutely must have alcohol and unsuspecting folks to pass the time with till his body decided to piece itself back together. Sound logic by his accord and it was going mostly swimmingly: annoyed a tendress – check, poked fun at the humorless – check, prattled like a chimp with whoever was unlucky enough to be present – check. Swimmingly!
Of course things couldn't go exactly as planned, oh no, wouldn't be his life if that were the case! Finding himself on the fussing end of a recent acquaintance he couldn't help but to at least play along since he'd pegged the girl dead to rights that they couldn't ever have mustered such a....albeit very shy....sternness. Go Alexia! He really should do something to assuage their fears but they seemed content enough trying to make him comfy while he pal'd about as he was keen to do. What harm could there be in accepting a bit of sympathy, yeah'
"I like to be all three pending how what the situation calls for. Good to be deaf sometimes when you're in the military." He grinned at the former governess though his attention was swiftly stolen by rum which had been so bluntly delivered. Garrish umbrella and all – perfect....though the delivery did lack the requisite flirt he'd requested. 6 out of 10 wouldn't order from them again less his leg was broken....er, right.
Of course what they failed to provide in flirts they made up in spades with sound advice: 'Your dilemma—-Mach—-is that you'd taken the fall incorrectly.' Ouch. Hole in one there but he wasn't about to admit that the only reason why he'd been launched was because he'd sort of faded out in the middle of his fight with said wind mage. And therein lay the inherent danger of continuing the hunt when ones spirit barely had a tentative attachment to ones body. He was damned lucky he came to just before he hit the ground or else he may have hit head first and yeaaaah – melons and high velocity impacts didn't mix well.
Not one to admit such though he'd offer a friendly but hollow smile to the tendress. "Y-Yeah, that I did. Shoulda rolled but too much flailing and crying so..." He chuckled anemically trying to laugh things away though this died with a start as the hairs on the back of his neck rose on end along with that shiver that ran up his spine - magicka. Blue eye blue snapped to Alexia to find them; large, dark eyes closed in concentration with frail hands on either side of his abused knee....and a misty purple aura with little flits of sparks surrounding them!
At first, he felt a slight relief of sharp pains. Then, eventually, dull aches faded, swelling dissipated, torn tendons began to knit and mend within. As they held on his knee grew to feel warm with healthy blood flow. Even a few regular aches and pains began to relent under their ministration. It was magical healing - a miraculous gift to almost anyone who received such and yet to him it was something much, much different – it was poison.
His typically jovial expression twisted with a touch of panic as he quickly considered what to do in the face of the gentle warmth washing over him, making him feel all better and healthy....shit. Shit! Finally arriving on what was probably the least pride damaging solution the schmooze reached out, catching the waif of a girls shoulders so as to draw them into a hug and away from his knee with her uninvited ministrations. "Whahey, wowowoah, yeah, I'm, I'm fine, really! N-No need to go abouts with the purple and the glowing and the-"
. . .
Blinking tiredly, his gaze slowly swept across the depressing monochromatic landscape that stretched before him. Ashen sand reached out unblemished to the horizon of dull overcast skies illuminated by a ring of light eclipsed by some hidden obstruction. The monotony of the still, gray world was only broken up by the gentle lapping waves of the inky black ocean to his right....and the soft rustle of black robes to his left.
The figure was tall, voluptuous yet gangly with white flesh that was inviting and repellent in equal measure. Squinting at the figure he hazarded they were female though he couldn't quiet get a good bead on them. It was as though they weren't really there and yet, there they were, staring....maybe....at him with a thin smile holding to ruby red lips from their skull painted features.
"Elitia Vance Turner." The voice, inviting like velveteen sheets, reverberated airless in his mind not disturbing the woman's expression as they judged him with obsidian eyes.
"Shit....we gotta stop meeting like this..." A sigh escaped him as he lifted the cigarette in hand for a drag, a moment spared for mild inspection of the fully organic limb which held the cold cancer stick. Wait....stop meeting" Did he know anyone or anything like this" "So....this is what's up now" Thought there's usually a game or something to..." He fell silent as he spied the gray oak table next to the spindly figure. Huh. That wasn't there before though what was more curious was why he even said that to begin with.
Autonomously his feet carried him to the lone seat opposite the apparition, his glossy dress boots barely disturbing the ashen sand he tread upon. Adjusting his dress brown uniform slacks he straddled the simple stool, his form soon falling forward in a comfortable hunch over the familiar table, fingers feeling the hunter green felt top. "So, what's the game today....tonight' Midday' Now. What's the game now?"
"The game, as always, is of your choosing. This place is one of your-"
"Construction, subconscious, blah, blah, blah..." He spoke derisively though he wasn't exactly sure why. Something about the figure just made him uneasy, snippy. "Whatever." Shifting he peaked at the red Aviator backed cards that sat before him, two laid neatly in a row, face down, with a pot already set in the table. Right, obviously Texas Hold'em. Why didn't they just say....reverberate....tell him!"
Mindlessly his other hand moved to a stack of chips he knew wasn't there before but he was certain would be there when he wanted them....what a strange place. He wasn't sure whether it was the complete lack of sense that anything made here or the dead, oppressive look that just saturated everything here which unsettled him more. Riffling the chips lightly brought a frown to his lips. "Oi, kinda stingy here aren't we?" He motioned to the pittance of chips he had; hardly enough to play for any length of time. "I got more than this, yeah?"
"Do you."
That matter of fact answer sent a chill of his spine though he shook this off. "Right..." Peeking at his pocket once more he finally snagged a couple of chips, tossing them into the pot. "Call."
Demurely, bone thin fingers moved to the pot, three chips left in the wake of the deliberate movement. "Raise."
"Check." He chewed the filter of his cigarette a little as he tossed another chip into the pot. "So....The healing was too much, eh?" He smiled thinly at the fractured memory that bubbled up: warm hands on him trying to keep him together, yelling, anger, talk of folks being put down....that....that was how things went, right' His features scrunched just a smidgen as though the uncertainty left a bitter taste in his mouth. Looking to the woman he of course couldn't read their reaction from that hard to focus on face.
"I suppose it was, but that is not the reason you are here."
This warranted a tick of brow. "Whaddya mean that's not the reason' Magicka bad, and so I go to crossroads-" Right, that's what this place was – crossroads! "-when stupid bad finds me. Play a game, win my way back....that's how it goes. That's how it's always gone."
"Has it" Another blunt answer, the skeletal figures movements gratingly slow as they dealt the flop. "Perhaps you understand less about this place then you think."
Petulantly he mimed the words back at the figure while looking over the flop - a pair of twos and a suicide jack; he could work with that. "Oh, well then, how am I wrong then, eh?"
Shifting he cast an annoyed look to the figure even though he wasn't exactly sure why he was so annoyed. For their part they didn't react to his bad juju, slender hands simply folding before them. "Have you ever won anything in this place Elitia Vance Turner""
His mouth snapped open to shoot something smart at the woman but nothing smart came to mind. Huh....did he ever win anything here" "Well..."
"Do you even play to win here Elitia Vance Turner""
"What' Of course I do, let me tell you I-" Looking back to the tabletop saw nothing of the game before. Gone where the chips and Aviator cards, replaced now with an immaculately stacked pile of colorful Uno cards – a red four on top. "-what?" Peaking at his 'pocket' now showed a menagerie of colored Uno cards, most of them reverses and skips, you know, all those dick move cards he so enjoyed. Had he been saving these up. No! This wasn't what they'd been playing! "Seriously!" You're screwing with me now, yeah' Big joke me, huh' How friggin petulant can you be trying-"
"But that is just it - I have done no such thing to you this visit Elitia Vance Turner." Suddenly he was senses were assaulted with the feel of cool, supple flesh flashed across his palms, his heart rate shooting up as he was enveloped in carnal need. Lips smearing white and red across his, the taste of cigarette smoke and ash lingering as clothing was ripped asunder, the waves a starting rhythm which to...
"FUCK! What in the hells!?" The stool toppled soundlessly into the ashen sand as he bolted up and away from the now empty table, hands quickly coming to feel for the familiar itch of his woolen uniform. "Just what the fuck was that!" What are you trying to pull you-!"
"Oh' Not to your liking Elitia Vance Turner. Memories then""
Gone were the sensation of sin, his head filling instead with the staticy reverberations of comms buzzing into his ear: 'Wing pack inbound, AA to bearing-', 'Armor to point bravo, artillery provide close fire for-', 'Hunter group omicron to D7, bring up support of fire teams taking Delta. Hunter group tango to dazzle-'. The comfortable warmth of spring which washed over him was ruined by the 30 kilos of gear and armor that clung to him broiling him alive while the subtle bouquet of grass and freshly rained upon woodlands was overpowered by the pungent smells of gun smoke, ozone, and burnt flesh.
Around him squads of soldiers rushed down the fortified hill in spurts and starts, each team providing covering fire as they closed in on the enemy line pinned down on the road below, trapped among the smoldering wreckage of their personal carriers and light mobile armor. Pinned as they were the enemy certainly weren't taking the assault lying down as reports of return fire and gulches of flame speared out from the impromptu cover lashing and striking down at his countrymen. Behind he could feel the deep thuds of the close support mortars bombing the broken column though these quickly began to fall silent as teams hurriedly broke down their gear so as to retreat back to the treeline. 'Wyrm wing of 8 incoming 78 west speed 96 alt 200. AA maintain current targets - Delta sector support to engage. Close artillery switch heat lancers and-'
A hand on his shoulder had him spinning wildly, the comforting heft of the caster rifle drawn close though the sensation was fleeting as now he stood on an....ashen beach' Panic washed over him as he quickly stumbled away from the black robed figure which had touched him. What the-!" Where the-!" Gasping for anything which to ground himself he instinctively drew the trusty caster that weighed heavily on his side, the weapon thrust out at the woman as recollection kicked in. "STOP! Stop messing with me! Whatever the hells you're after I-"
"What I am after"" This had the gaunt woman tilting their head curiously. "I am after nothing but to understand you Elitia Vance Turner. Even now you do not recognize this place or it's shape despite your bravado. You do not, can not remember can you. And yet you continue to lie about it as though it will help you in some manner, it is a curious behavior."
Their words, a blunt statement than an inquiry, struck home only flaring his panicked anger. "Sh-shut up!" The heavy weight of the caster was thrust more threateningly at the figure, finger on the trigger.
"You have been here many times before and yet again you look out with unfamiliarity where before you used to take to this place with assured, almost familiar swagger. How tattered your spirit has become to no longer retain your memory of this place" As you are losing your grip on the realm of the living so too are you losing that which you are to the ether."
"I said shut up!" As much as he tried, as much as they goaded him he couldn't recall anything about this place or ever having been here before. Well, of course he wouldn't, he'd never been to such a strange place before....right' Yet even that rang hollow as deep down he couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't lying to him. No. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been here before, many times, but the memories were no longer there. Why else would he so blase about how disturbingly still everything was here, why he approached and sat down at that table as though it were the naturalist thing" Squeezing the trigger back to the first break point the weapon began to whir ominously as the charge generator spun up. "Let me out of here....now! I'm done playing your games."
The skeletal figure simply stared blankly down the barrel of his growling caster, their obsidian orbs piercing straight through him. Regarding him a moment longer they finally shook their head sadly. "The bell tolls for you Elitia Vance Turner. Your hour of dissolution is nigh no matter what demands you make or violence you may bestow. None of that matters in this realm between, the junction between life....and death.
More images"....sensations"....memories"....experiences rushed into him. He saw himself throttling up Tin Penny Way trying to make up time traveling from the Marketplace to the Docks....wasn't this what he did this morning" No....no, it was similar but he certainly didn't run straight through a bend as this iteration did, their expression annoyed and yet distant, unfocused. Without flinching he....they rode straight into a building, the impact tossing them over the handlebars and hard into the brick wall. Ouch, that had to hurt and yet he knew it didn't simply because his spirit wasn't there to acknowledge the abuse suffered by his body.
He watched as the EMTs arrived to the scene, how he was rushed to Rhy'Din General. The medical team worked on him with speed and professionalism same as they had dozens of times before when he arrived through their doors yet this time he noted Dr. Ibanez looked haggard and defeated as they slapped their diagnostic strip across his brow. All three little windows on the strip changed color from green to red and finally to black – complete spirit dissociation. The other medical team gave the older woman aghast looks as they stopped rushing along with the crash team, as she left them to take care of the pest. She would likely get a reaming for that he was sure but she'd have the last, bitter laugh on that account as she knew the futility of what they did now. Still, that look on their features he was sure would haunt him if only he could remember....or perhaps it did which was why he felt so uncomfortable seeing it now.
The injuries he....they, they suffered were nothing overly severe. It wasn't like he traveled the major boulevards and streets of Rhy'Din that'd let him really open the throttle. A few broken bones, a couple of fractured vertebrae, some contusions and the sorts. Hells, he'd have been a model for the life saving abilities of wearing a helmet since his head was perfectly intact despite the impact and yet as hours turned to days and days turned to weeks the man would not awaken. Specialist, sages, and quacks of every field would come and go poking and prodding the schmooze in every way possible and yet nothing would rouse him. His body was healed but nobody seemed to be home to use it.
Soon enough U.T.R.A. officials would come and collect him against the wills of a few folks he apparently did a poor job of alienating. It was disconcerting to watch, the agony, the heartbreak as his plug was pulled and nature was left to take it's course. A mercy really as an unoccupied body like that was just the perfect vessel for possession. Last thing he ever wanted was to become some meat puppet for one horror or another which he fought his entire time as a hunter to protect folks from.
Whether there was a memorial service for the likes of him in Rhy'Din or not he would not know as his vantage was stuck with the Mach stiff. Home to Tang he would go for after-death processing: implants were removed, samples were taken, and scribed iron spikes were driven into his skull destroying any possibility of probing his pickled brain for secrets or possessing his form. And then as all hunters he was given a proper military cremation at blistering temperatures far hotter than normal cremations. Nothing but a a tombstone could ever remain of a military hunter or mage as even their ashes made, morbidly, for rather exotic ingredients.
The robed figure stood once more before him, the soundless waves of those black waves now lapping quietly but, he felt, with growing intensity as if the very void was reaching out for him. Damnit. He shook his head against the experience, wanted to deny it and yet it just struck such a chord with him. That wasn't reality....but he knew it had been, for some poor timeline of him. Or perhaps it was a mirror into the future, what would happen to him given enough time. Damnit!
"You understand Elitia Vance Turner what this place is once more. But you will forget again because there is not enough of you left to retain this lesson. It is a cycle, vicious as any that has made up your life. I do wonder how that sits with you?"
His features scrunched angerly at the monotonous words that just jeered at him, the howling caster in hand leveled once more as he pulled the trigger through the second break. For their part the woman simply smiled knowingly as the spell manifold collapsed, a fireball coallescing before the tip of the caster before-
. . .
"-heellen amf..." And suddenly, just like that, life returned to that lone cobalt blue eye which started to blink like mad at the burning feeling caused from being dried out....was it obvious he wasn't blinking any during his mental absence"
He smacked his lips trying to work the extreme dry mouth feeling free as he tried to get a take on the situation. Damnit, right in the middle of a bar with mousy one tending to him and everything, way to go worthless body! He could no longer feel Alexia in his arms but could still hear their stutteringly mewling in guilt at what they'd 'done' to him, the tone heart wrenching. Oh sure, she really shouldn't have just gone about trying to give heals to random assholes but still, this was not the way she needed such a lesson! He needed to do damage control STAT, assuage her guilt and fears while playing off the rest of this as a joke and-
"Mach!" The name was spoken stern from a humorless voice he was sure he knew. Was that ol' Cris-py Cream" Naw, that didn't-
And suddenly pain flashed up his jaw as he felt a hand make firm, hard contact with his dreamy face. Autonomously his body moved against the attacker, military CQC and a thug life guiding his actions as he blindly attempted to assail his assailant right back! Aaand out the window just went any hope of a smooth damage control....aw crap.
(Big thanks to Crispin, Alexia Longbow, and everyone else who participated in the fun play which inspired this post!)
