Things to Remember (Quest!)

[prythian]

Twilight Town seemed deserted today, everyone either at home or not there. The streets were empty, and not even Nobody or Heartless stirred on its streets. A sense of foreboding hovered throughout the air, and the wind made a strange howling noise. Something evil was about in Twilight Town... something hidden, something watching... waiting...

((Short post, I know, but I need y'all's posts.))

[lysander]

The baleful mourning of a blues harmonica cut through the silence of Twilight Town's quiet. It was like a ghost town, something that Lysander was quite accustomed to. It was almost comforting, made feel as if her were back home. But he didn't dwell too long on memories. Instead he just kept on walking, waiting for any sign of life that he might be able to show off his abilities to. A small, easily impressed boy or girl, perhaps an elderly gentleman he could talk shop with, exchange guns with for half-interested inspection. He always liked a good conversation with an elderly gentleman. They oftentimes had a good word in their head and a smart bit of wisdom.

The cowboy's saunter came to an abrupt halt, stretching. He pulled the harmonica away from his lips, pocketing it and yawned loudly into the silence. His long, glossy black ponytail hung drifting in the light howling breeze. All he needed was a tumbleweed and a dust devil and he'd been in his element. He wore a jacket down to his knees made of tanned leather, dyed pink. Atop his head was his hat, of similar material and color to his jacket. Twin belts sat at his waist with bullets looped about them, and empty holsters. Offwhite, seemingly almost pinkish, pants completed the outfit.

His eyes scanned the street tiredly, and he sat down, right there in the middle of what might've been a town square or something similar. Readjusting his duffel bag he spat off to the side, and lay down in a frustrated heap. He'd made no progress whatsoever in spreading the the fame (or infamy, rather) of his name, and with this deserted ghost town he was making even less progress than usual. "Well damn." He spoke aloud to no one in particular.

[nascent]

The shadowmage wasn't at all sure what had drawn him to this sprawling town situated within a veil of eternal sunset. All he knew with certainty was that he felt an immediate sense of apprehension upon setting foot in this place. The swirling black portal sealed shut behind him and vanished much to his dismay, vanishing just as mysteriously as it had emerged. Magus furrowed his brow slightly, unable to shake the ominous notion that someone, or something, was guiding him.

As the first gusts of turbulent air sent his azure mane and twilight mantle fluttering wildly, he desperately wished he'd been guided elsewhere. There was something in the air... something unnatural. Cold. Grim. Whispering. It seemed to chill him to his very soul and weave its way into his mind. A phrase from his displaced memories leapt into his thoughts as the unwelcome and yet familiar sensation washed over him: the Black Wind. Magus closed his eyes, suppressing a shiver; the name fit only too well.

Not knowing what else to do, he began walking towards the center of town. With any luck he'd begin to find some answers here.

[prythian]

At last... people. Strong ones, by the feel of it. This would be particularly... satisfying. The presence made itself known to the two, striking when they didn't expect it.

The wind gathered itself in two places, one near each person. A small black portal formed and a large tan three-clawed hand reached out of it on an impossibly stretchy and rubbery arm, reaching towards each of them. The arm seemed to pulse, expanding and contracting as it grabbed something precious. With Magus, it reached out and grabbed the amulet he wore, snatching it off and zooming back into the portal as if the arm was a rubber band. The portal dissipated, and three Dusks appeared in front of Magus.

A similar thing happened with Lysander, it reaching into his bag and seizing a journal which disappeared into the portal with it. Three more Dusks appeared there. The Dusks near both of them immediately began leaping around back and forth, zippers unzipping for the mouth to hiss in aggression, read to fight.

[lysander]

Lysander lay in the dusty street contemplating what next to do. Carefully he extracted his papers and parcel of tobacco, rolling an expert cigarette. Striking a match against his fingernail he lit the cigarette, placing it between his lips. When it came to slow times with nothing happening, he often needed a little pick-me-up to help him think. Fighting for his life, thinking came natural, but that was a different situation. When your reflexes don't get used for long enough, they get antsy and don't work quite right. That was his opinion anyway. A puff of smoke rose out of his mouth, both silky and rough before it melted into the air.

Gently his eyes slipped closed in thought, trailing off to his day dreams of being rich and famous. But it wasn't long until his day dreams were interrupted. The back of his neck prickled, which usually meant something was going on. It was a sort of sixth sense, he supposed, honed from years as an on-edge gun fighter. No magician or knight in shining armor he'd ever met had a second thought about walking into a room full of strangers, but Lysander was of a different kind. He was aware of the world around him more than most.

One eye slipped open, carefully watching the air above him. It made a slow roll to the side, checking his peripheral vision on that side and then! His mental tripwire was set off. His innate telekinetic pressure felt the arm invade it's space, rioting toward him, long and repugnant. Something moving that fast and in that way could only be one thing. An enemy.

From the ground he was up in the blink of an eye, his duffel bag shirked off his shoulder. In six metallic clouds his weapons appeared in the air. His custom revolvers in his hands, the four vicious cleavers hanging gently in the air. Everything seemed slow in his eyes while he carefully lifted the guns up to sight the... thing? It's strangely colored skin, and three claws set it apart. Let alone it's length and flexibility.

Suddenly the arm dipped down. Not for him! It was going for his travel sack! And suddenly, wrenched from the depths of his duffel bag was that journal. That accursed thing. Lysander bit down, and he bit down hard. There were two things that got him angry quick. A self-centered spotlight thief, and a regular thief. His anger made him sloppy though, fortunately for that damn thief. Four shots, and each one missed by hairs. Not a single damn solid hit.

Then all of sudden the arm was gone and his journal was stolen. "Now, I won't stand for that."[/color] He spoke, the burnt down cigarette hanging from his mouth. His four cleavers were stuck in the air where the portal had disappeared. Not even his cleavers had made any difference. And of course, to top things off a few nobodies had just shown up. "Well isn't this a party?"[/color] He grunted. Spitting the cigarette down to the ground, he ground it into the dirt. "Let's get this over with, then."[/color]

The cleavers spun back forming a line in front of him, his guns trained on the center Dusks.[/size]

[nascent]

What occurred happened fast, surprisingly fast and with very little warning. So distracted was the warlock by the shadowy gales murmuring at the edges of his awareness that by the time he noticed the black portal it's extensive appendage already had its grip on his amulet. He leapt after the fleeing thief-limb, fury and panic mixing on his face to paint his disposition not unlike that of a wild animal... but his best attempt regained nothing. The hand was gone as quickly as it came, and in its place it left three strange white-clad creatures.

Magus turned a furious gaze on the creatures, which hissed and danced back and forth like cobras. In a flash of light his reaper's blade materialized in his left hand, poised and ready to cut down the first of these unearthly beings who dared move against him.

"You have made a mistake, crossing paths with me... a mistake I shall ensure you regret." With those words the wizard braced himself to move, certain that these creatures intended him harm.

Memories or not, some part of him knew that amulet was irreplaceably valuable and important. He would get it back, even if he had to claw through the darkness itself to do so!

[prythian]

Lysander's ability almost made the Nobodies pause, realizing what a versatile ability it could be. Almost. Two slid across the ground so that he was surrounded, and as one the Dusks charged, flying through the air and arms stretching out to attack Lysander where he was hopefully vulnerable and unprepared for an attack. It was a fast triple attack.

The Dusks opposing Magus were more cautious, beginning a type of dance of around him. It was a constant motion, none staying still for a second as a circle formed around him. While they danced, occasionally arms and legs lashed out attempting to deal harm to Magus where he stood, trying to keep him from going on the offensive by a constant onslaught.

[lysander]

32 Shots Before Next Reload
Even Distribution

[/i][/center]

Lysander's eyes trained on the Dusks, flitting back and forth in quick flicks. He noted their pause, being quite the observant sort of guy, and he suffered a victorious inner smirk. Damn straight,[/color] He thought, cautiously following them with his revolvers. He jolted backwards slightly as the two Dusks slid across the ground, and back around behind him. All three were in trip-wire range, so he knew where they were, but fighting them might get tricky. Not even a trained telekinetic sensory was a substitute for good, old-fashioned eyesight. It was pretty damn close though.

Lysander's entire body tensed, and he closed his eyes. If they were going to fight dirty, so would he. Ordinarily, a man's eyes were his greatest resource in a close-quarters gunfight. If there were boys in your blind spots, you were just as good as a man with a bullet in his back. But by applying a light telekinetic pressure against all surfaces in the surrounding area, he could essentially "see" everything in a full circle. In combination with his hair trigger reflexes, and his normally above average awareness, Tripwire was the perfect supporting ability.

However, just because you could see something didn't mean you could do a damn thing to stop it. The sudden charge of the dusk in front of him, and the two jumping dusks at his right and left shoulder. Offhand there were three options, and no time for thinking. He did what he did best, and improvised.

The four cleavers rioted forward to meet the charging Dusk. In a pincer motion, one came forward, two curved around each side, and one came down from above to cut off every line of escape besides retreat. Boldness. That's how he'd win this, he decided. Digging his toes down he launched himself forward at the enemy before him, firing three shots in between the cleavers.

Lysander hoped, plain and simple, that by moving himself from the center of the triangle to the front the two jumping Dusks would miss their intended target. That would buy him some time to deal with the one. But it didn't fix the problem that they were behind him. If he couldn't kill this one soon, he'd have to change tactics entirely, which he hoped he wouldn't have to do. A few solid hits and he'd be done in. He wasn't one of those sorts where he could get a leg and an arm torn off and be perfectly fine a day or two later. A good punch in the stomach and he'd be down on the ground.[/size]

[nascent]

So, these were not the primal beasts Magus had taken them for. The slim, spindly-limbed assailants were careful to offer him no easy targets, choosing instead to remain in constant motion while whipping arms and legs at him. The blows stung, enough to assure him that these foes could do real damage if given half a chance, but he was otherwise unharmed. They were testing him, trying his patience while biding their time for an opportunity to exploit.

The shadowmage realized their game, and decided he would only give them one thing: oblivion.

With a swiftly executed arcane gesture, azure energy began to glow around the wizard's body and rapidly spread into the ground at his feet before fading. The enemies, of course, would notice this; before they had a chance to react he lunged forward at the nearest foe, scythe slashing at it in a wide arc. This left his back turned to the other two; counting on their behavior to remain consistent, Magus waited a full three seconds to give them time to come at him before snapping shut his unseen trap. With one final hand motion a sparkling surge of energy erupted from the ground where he'd stood, sheathing the pavement and anything within its ten-foot radius into two inches of solid ice.

[prythian]

The cleavers tore into the Dusk in a bold move, tearing it apart as the bullets hit it as well. The Dusk shuddered under the attacks only momentarily, bursting apart in white sparks as it dissolved. The other two missed with their attack as he moved forwards, but instead their arms hit the pavement, and they did a front flip with it, legs striking out as they came down heading towards his back.

The trap Magus used was sprung perfectly, ice shooting up from the ground. Unfortunately, the Dusks had quick reflexes and learned as well, as the one in front of Magus was caught and the other two leaped up, floating and wriggling through the air out of the radius. The one caught had already taken a large slash from the scythe, but it was far from finished. It struck out one hand, catching Magus in the face. A strange voice hissed from the shadows, without apparent source.

A magician... but he does not know what he seeks, does he? Strange, one with such powerful memories being so... helpless. This voice was directed to Magus alone.

[lysander]

[[I'm not in super good shape to post right now, so I'll tie it down and keep all the quality out of the way.]]

29 Shots Before Next Reload
Left +1

Lysander's quick defeat of the first Dusk was reassuring, but only served to frustrate him in the end. He'd never fought these strange things before and he'd obviously overestimated them if they were going to fall that easily. Which meant he easily could have held is own defensively. And the two flying at his back made things all the more frustrating. There was hardly a thing that he could do by his own figuring. Two options, try a last minute forward roll to possibly evade the attack and put his enemies at the strategic disadvantage. Ooooorr, he could turn around, take the hit like a man, and unload into their skulls. Which brought up yet another question.

Did these things have skulls?

He didn't sit too long in his stagnant thoughts, having only seconds to react. He decided to go with gut instinct. By his reckoning, bravery never stopped a bullet. But what kind of man would he be if he started out bold and ended out snaking around to avoid a little pain. Every man's gotta make a sacrifice here or there. So he kept with his bold streak.

Bracing against the ground he whipped himself around in a dizzying blur. His chest caught the combined blow of the Dusks. Choking, winded, Lysander forced the barrels of his guns into the open hissing mouths of the dusks and began firing.[/size]

[nascent]

"Memories?" Magus squirmed in the creature's grip, readying another spell. "What do you know about my memories?! Tell me!"

Hmph... this one has stuck its nose where it doesn't belong.

That voice! It was the same voice that had echoed through his mind in that broken realm of darkness so soon after he'd woken up. The voice seemed irritated, as though its privacy had just been intruded upon... so different from before, when it had seemed distant but protective.

It's not time for you to know such things yet.

Destroy this... empty husk.

Magus' body suddenly began to act on its own, seemingly obeying the command of the disembodied voice. With one hand he tore loose the Dusk's grip, bringing down his scythe on the creature in a swift follow-up. What was going on?!

[prythian]

The Dusk shuddered under Magus's assault, breaking apart. Such a shame... The voice whispered. The memories attached to this amulet, and you don't even know them, do you? It paused, before continuing. Or, perhaps you do... but they're hiding. You can't hide forever from the truth... and memories least of all... The other two Dusks landed outside of the ice patch, but waited, not attacking yet. ...Would you like to find out your past...?

The heads of the Dusks jerked back as the bullets entered them, but it was hardly a clean kill. The two Dusks struck as many times as they could before the damage from the bullets made one, then both break apart into sparks, dissolving into the air. Oh, you're a powerful one. The voice mused to Lysander. Not strong enough to save them, though, were you...?

[nascent]

Do not trust these creatures!

The voice was insistent now, forceful... almost afraid, it seemed. Magus felt his mind reel as the two unspoken voices vied for dominance in his thoughts, almost crowding him out entirely. One hand reached up and grasped the side of his skull as a throbbing headache threatened to overtake him.

First they steal from you, now they offer to tell you who you are. Is it not obvious that this is nothing more than an attempt at manipulation? It's deception, treachery!

The warlock grit his teeth and sank to his knees, the throbbing in his head growing ever more painful and almost unbearable. Droplets of sweat began to fall from his brow, freezing upon the icy pavement.

"You... both of you..."

Don't let yourself be swayed by empty promises of--

"Get out of my HEAD!!"

[lysander]

[[Wooo! I get voices too!]]

Lysander shoved his guns as far into their heads as he could, trying to push the strange creatures as far away as he could so they would stop hitting him. With each impact against his chest he coughed and choked, sputtering while the pounding of his revolvers jolted his forearms. As they dissipated the cowboy grunted loudly, heaving himself backwards across the ground. His revolvers dropped from his hands and his cleavers fell down out of the air, mentally exhausted. But even in the silence of the after-battle, it seemed Lysander would not be allowed some rest.

A voice, patronizing and condescending. It was the sort of voice that brought back memories that he didn't particularly enjoy to remember. He screwed his eyes shut, lips pulled back in a snarl. His expression was one of utmost pain. There were things in his head that no one could scoff at, no matter how dark they thought they were. Lysander breathed inward deeply, his chest rising with obvious effort. "You're gonna shut up... He began slowly, forcing the words past the pain of his chest.

Another deep breath was taken and he continued. "And you're gonna do it now..." His fist clenched into the dirt, his cleavers rattling against the ground. "Or I swear..." He forced himself up to his feet, swaying back and forth unsteadily. The cleavers rose with him, shaking in the air in a square around him. "I will make this just as unpleasant for you as it is for me" With each biting biting emphasis a cleaver was thrust deeply into the ground. Holstering his guns violently the entire set of six weapons dispersed into metallic silver clouds, leaving only scars in the ground.

He shambled weakly for a few feet, stooped down to pick up his hat and set it back where it belonged. "Now I'd greatly appreciate it, if you acted the part of a good guest in my head and skipped all the small talk and semantics. I ain't scared of you. You ain't scared of me. That's fine. Let's move on from the pissing contests and get to the introductions." He was already feeling a little more steady on his feet, now that he didn't have to worry about fighting more of those things. He'd be healed up soon enough. Shouldering his travel sack, he untied his sloppy pony-tail and began redoing it. Hearing voices in your head was no excuse for letting your appearance get sloppy.