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Post by Vincent on Jan 17, 2018 22:59:43 GMT -6
Everything was black, but only for a moment. Light, endless light fill into the darkness but it did not hurt his eyes or warm his body, it simply was. “Partner. Hey, partner! Are you paying any attention to me?” A voice? Familiar and yet so foreign. Who was speaking to him? It… was confusing honestly. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” Vincent demanded of the voice.
“I’m hardly hiding partner. It’s up to you to see me though. Do you know where you are?” “Am I dead?” laughter. “No, no you are not dead, not yet anyway. But it would not be a lie to tell you, you now sit on the cusp of the hereafter. You were in a battle that requires more power and determination to win than any other you have faced so far. Do you remember now?” “I…” Vincent wracked his brain trying to remember. “That’s right. The spiders!” The bright light began to shift and change to reflect the village that was under assault. The sky was dark and full of ash. The dead of both monsters and men laid strewn about with fires being the only light. The living were completely still however. “Find yourself. You do remember from where you fell don’t you?” The voice commanded Vincent leaving him to his confusion but what else was he to do? “And when I find myself!?” No answer. “Right.” He huffed. The hero wandered the field examining everything available to be seen. So this was the state of things? Or, was this how he imagined it to be? He reached the top of the ramparts and looked over the wall seeing the monsters that were waiting to reach them. There was a Bael partially ripped apart yet standing. Tracing the signs of the magic its source was that shaman woman. “I’ll have to speak with you later.” He mused to himself. As he continued along the wall he was able to see an overview of the battle at large. It was not looking good. The dead and suffering were all over. Mila looked exhausted and rushing off to someone. Who was she so concerned for? He looked around before spotting it. His body! “Blast! She’s running off to save me. I can’t keep forcing people to focus on me. I’m not…” Vincent tried to kick a wall finding his leg simply went through it as he lost balance and fell flat on his back. “You’ve found your body,” the disembodied voice spoke again with a great light shining in the sky. It was like a second sun yet brighter and not as harsh. “Now, find your blade. You dropped it when you fell.” “Phoenix Heart?” Vincent snorted as he rolled over and got to his feet looking for it. “Of course you’re only concerned with that blade too. Who isn’t?” “Do you still not understand who is speaking to you?” If a voice could sigh Vincent suspected it would have right about now. “PARTNER?” “Phoenix Heart!?” He felt oddly foolish for not realizing sooner. It had called him partner at least twice over. There was another chuckle. “So, what is all of this about?” “I told you, come find me.” “Yeah, I got that,” he looked over his own body and how his head bled and he was entirely useless. “Is that really what I look like?” “Disappointed?” “N-no, just, surprised. Is this how you see the world? Like a projection?” “Hardly. This is a recreation of your memories.” “You have that kind of access to my mind?” “You let me in, so, yes I do. Does that frighten you?” “A little, yes.” Vincent admitted to his concerns but he accepted them as well continuing to scour the area for the sword. “Where did you fall?” No sooner did he ask did he see the blade sticking out of the ground glowing all the while. “Found you.” “Good, but no. You have simply found my shell, the blade that houses me, or, a part of me.” “A… part?” Vincent questioned. “Yes, you are rather forgetful aren’t you?” Another laugh. “You don’t sound much like your usual self. Where is the snark, and condescending tone?” Vincent looked over the blade questioning if he should take it in hand or not. He wasn’t really there after all. “The time for that is long past. Now, take the blade in hand. It is time for the final trial that I can offer you.” “Final trial? What do you mean?” Vincent asked worriedly only to be met with silence yet again. “Blast! Stop toying with me!” What trial could possibly lay before him? He’d already had to withstand purifying flames, reclaim true ownership from a far more talented assassin, and take on monsters alone that were far beyond him. He took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever was to come. “Alright Phoenix Heart! Give me your best!” Grabbing hold of the blade’s hilt he felt a wave of power trying to repel him. At first it was a light pulsing that reverberated up his arm but then it grew until he was forced to hold with both hands. The feeling was almost too much as he began to cry out in pain. It felt like his body was being ripped apart at every level of his being. No, IT WAS! Suddenly everything was bright once more.
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Post by Vincent on Jan 20, 2018 21:18:12 GMT -6
The light faded just as quickly as it appeared and Vincent found himself standing alone upon a windswept hillside. It was serene, with clear blue skies and a green field that seemed to stretch on for miles, and beside him was a great tree taller than perhaps any he had seen before. “Where am I?” “You are here at the beginning. My memories are fractured but this is how I remember it.” As the words were spoken the daylight exploded in a blinding light and heat as a great rock exploded from the sky. Vincent shielded his eyes with a soft cry of pain. The rock hurtled into the earth cracking it and sending debris in all directions with such force as to crack the air and topple the young hero. His ears rang a shrill pitch and he coughed in the filthy air that permeated the site. “What beginning is this!?” Vincent chocked the words out covering his face with his cloak. He crawled, one hand propelling himself forward, and another keeping his face covered. As he cleared of the air he saw it, the meteor that would be used to forge his blade. It was pure and rare metal and yet so ordinary, nothing like the golden blade that had altered its form as it bonded with him. Down in the pit with the meteor was a man Vincent recognized. But how? How could he know someone that was here back then!? “That man! That is Elias, the red mage!” Vincent exclaimed in disbelief. “No, that is the man who would forge my shell. Who he was is lost to my memory and so a suitable stand in from your own memory has been chosen.” It was all still so strange to him but it was easier than thinking someone was an immortal he supposed. Vincent watched as time blurred speeding forward with infinite days and nights occurring at once before he found himself before a finished blade. The blackened blade he had first come across those years past. Elias, or rather the man who appeared like him was sobbing as he looked over the blade finding it cracking and threatening to be destroyed. “The process took several tries, my power was far too great for the alchemist to contain me and so…” As the words trailed off he was pressed through time yet again to see four weapons laid across a table, the sword, the same axe Burt had carried and the unclaimed lance and bow. “I was told these weapons were sister tools, not that they were all a part of a single whole. How is that possible?” Vincent knew very little of the forge or magic, so even less of such advanced alchemy as this. “The exact methods are highly advanced, I doubt a smith of this age could hope to replicate them, nor are they important. What matters is not only was my power divided over these weapons but so too was my very soul. I am a mere shadow of my full power as you see me now.” These revelations stunned Vincent and even made him fearful of just what power resided within. “No wonder so many have sought to claim you from me.” Then, at the height of the smith’s achievement a group of men, all familiar to Vincent but none he could recall by name, came before him demanding he hand over the weapons. He refused and was promptly killed, no warnings, no ceremony, just cold murder. “These men were the first to lay claim to me. They went on to become successful warlords.” “What were their names?” “I do not remember, this was an age long before your Scouring.” The voice of Phoenix Heart explained. The four wielders were powerful but they were not infallible and soon each harbored dark desires for more power until…” Visions of blood and betrayal played before his eyes. The conflict ended with only one man alive trying to claim all the pieces and failing to withstand their might, consumed in holy flames. “While the four men were able to wield one of the four pieces none were capable of withstanding more.” “To wield you someone requires a willpower that is unwavering and well, to unbind you further near unrivaled. But, what of the other pieces?” “For my shell, it required a will that is unwavering and committed even in the direst of times, you found this in your desire to sacrifice yourself for others and make this world something better. The other three require commitment to others, a desire for raw power, and a raw physical endurance to withstand the power. When you found me I had believed you to be just another weak willed child seeking glory and in truth you were, but you accepted that fact about yourself readily and resolved to become worthy. It was a strange thing for one such as I, so used to others lording their will over mine. You went on to seek, in essence, companionship with a spirit and I believe that you will be the one capable of uniting all portions of myself once more.” “What?” Vincent was at a loss for words. As the simple word left his lips he began to watch as owner after owner wielded the sword in a manner that ruled over it or left them to be consumed by it. There were so many perhaps even too many for him to count as ages passed. The great tree he saw previously reappeared before him and began to have its branches filled with ropes and bodies of the countless lives it claimed. Their blood began to run from their bodies onto the ground dying it red. “I was forged to be a holy blade and yet as you can see my history, and the power you inherited is one of bloodshed and war. Since you obtained my power I have been used to kill many more, continuing in that same fashion.” “Why are you showing me all of this?” he hated to admit it but he was rather confused. If this was meant to be a humbling sight then he did not know if he received the proper lesson. “I have shown you all of this bloodshed because I need you to understand how many lives were lost to bring us to this moment. The final trial I can bring you will see both of us united as one power. But in order to harmonize you will have to undergo the baptism rite.” Vincent still was not understanding what all these words were leading to but he knew it was something he should be scared of. “So, what exactly does all of this mean?” “Within this space of near frozen time you will relive my life and the pain and triumph of all my former wielders, to include your own experiences again. I do not make this offer lightly, it is a crucible that could send you spiraling into madness and if you cannot withstand it-“ “I will be consumed in holy fire right? That seems to be the only way any of this ends.” The ensuing silence told him everything he needed to know. “So, why do you offer me this now?” “…” “Phoenix Heart?” “Among all my former wielders you are an enigma and a warrior with a madness of resilience. If any warrior is to be capable of resisting this trial you would seem to be the closest of any other I have seen. You have the right character to reunite my power and… the battle you must return to is unlikely to be able to be won if you do not gain the upper limits of my strength.” Vincent fell into a contemplative silence at the explanation. “You may refuse and I will not press the matter. I would not eve-“ “I’ll do it!” Vincent clenched his fists feeling a sickening in his gut and a simultaneous fear. “I must relive your experiences to their last which means feeling everything your wielders did right? I’ve seen how quickly they burn when rejected and there was no pain I’ve felt so bad that I could not relive it and be fine.” He spoke more confidently than he felt but if the words were to be believed he needed this to win. “So be it.”
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Post by Vincent on Jan 28, 2018 17:13:52 GMT -6
An illusory figure seemed to blip in and out of existence in front of Vincent's eyes before vanishing altogether as his body was engulfed in light. At first it was warm and wholesome but it quickly became harsh and painful. His eyes felt as though they would not just burn but melt out of his skull, along with the rest of his flesh. He screamed but there was no sound, or was there sound but he could not make out anything except the deafening of his own voice?
Then it was quiet and it was as though all the pain he experienced simply never was. He was whole again but now he felt trapped. He was a prisoner within a tiny world and he did not know why, he simply could not remember. It felt as though someone had ripped him open and tore out pieces of himself leaving him hollow. There were things that mattered but were gone, a name! What was his name? Was he a he? What was he? There was a fear and confusion setting in as all sense of self and identity was lost to him. Then he felt it, the other parts of himself were lying beside him, how strange. It was like an overlapping as parts of his understanding could return but were lost just as quickly.
He tried to open his eyes but he was blind, there was nothing around him, he was paralyzed, but he could hear a voice above him. "Ahahahah! Oh this is wonderful! I succeeded! I did it! I DID IT!!!" then the sounds of crashing as more voices sounded creating a chaotic cacophony. More crashing and screaming before Vincent felt his whole body turned and tossed. He hit something solid but it did not pain him. Was he on his back? His face? None of it seemed accurate and yet it made sense to him? Just what was happening here?
A short time later he was hoisted again held by something but not tightly and his body did not bend. A moment later endless thoughts and memories flooded into his mind. None of them were his own, instead it was someone else's or were they? He could not recall his own life either. But these memories felt foreign to him so they had to be wrong write? So much hate and murder and... this desire to dominate others. These were the memories of someone that wanted to be in control of everything. Vincent wanted nothing to do with this and yet he could not escape it, he too was dominated by the will of this dominance. Vincent began to cry and rebel but nothing worked.
"I think you will serve me nicely." The voice was like grease and snakes.
"Who are you to order ME, BOY!?" This didn't sound like something he would say and yet he did?
Suddenly Vincent stood before the man who owned the voice. "You're in my head? I've never heard of a talking blade before." The man laughed but did not seem to see Vincent. "Well, YOU are going to be MY ticket to fame and glory!" Vincent wanted to rebel! He would NOT be the blade of some heartless fiend, and yet... the man's will overshadowed his own, and he was enslaved.
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Post by Vincent on Feb 6, 2018 23:03:36 GMT -6
Time blurred again, compressing on itself with such a force Vincent wondered if his body would be crushed before the weight suddenly disappeared and he could breathe again, or he would have if breathing was something he could do in the first place. He realized then that he was on a battlefield. Dozens of opponents stood before him and he continued to unleash the power in the sword burning man after man with a searing light. It was difficult to do as he was forcing the power to surge from the blade, and yet he felt indescribable pain as well. It was as though his body was being wrung by giant hands, letting his gooey innards spill from every orifice. This was… what was this?
The battle was soon over and Vincent met with his comrades moments before plunging his blade into one of their chest’s. “I will master all of the power! You are not needed any longer!” Vincent felt a sickeningly devious glee. How long had he waited for the moment to run this filthy bastard through? FAR TOO LONG!” The man received no ceremony as Vincent kicked him off his blade and snatching up the axe, Phoenix Wing.
Knowledge filled Vincent’s mind, a feeling of himself and a foreign mind both intermingling and both his mind and his external mind hated his body casting it in fire. The flames hurt, they hurt like dying a thousand times over. Vincent screamed and clawed at his own skin gnashing his teeth moments before he felt nothing but cold emptiness. His body was gone, not even ash remained but his mind persisted in relief and freedom. His mind lay on the battlefield for hours, then days, months, and then someone picked it up.
Vincent felt himself curious about this new body that carried his mind around but somehow they never seemed to become one, and so time crept onwards the way it always will until his mind changed to another body once again. This time he was a woman. He was terrified and demanded power from his mind. She wanted nothing more than to destroy the people that stood before her but Vincent’s mind refused. He did not want this body to have control and the body was too weak to resist and so she too burned away. The flames and cries loosed were harrowing and tragic. A woman who wanted her freedom killed by the weapon that could have granted it. If only this new body was not so demanding.
Once more his mind lay exposed with no body to shelter it. The world around him rotted and changed until a young boy found the blade in the rubble of an old building. Vincent’s mind came face to face with the boy this time. “If ye be worthy, hold me aloft and know that mine name is Phoenix Heart!” Vincent told the young boy to do this and gingerly he obliged him. Vincent’s mind searched through this new body’s memories and experiences, scouring it to see just what kind of person he would be bonded to. He was surprisingly pleased by what he found. A simple and honest soul that had sought strength to save those he loved but did not desire anything more. Vincent’s mind accepted this new body.
The young boy and Vincent spoke often and the more his mind was linked to his body he saw the world around him. It was beautiful and tragically terrible. For every village and field of flowers he got to see he saw just as many war scarred battlefields. Slowly he offered the boy more of his mind until something in the new body changed. It had grown too accustomed to great victory and triumph. The mind and body stopped becoming allies and the body demanded the mind submit to its desires. Vincent stopped sharing his mind and strength with the boy until one fateful battle the young boy, now a man was felled in single combat.
Lifetimes of combat and failures, demands to control his mind and dishonest souls or corrupted youths without end. Time after time they came and died until his mind was said to be cursed. The bodies began to cast the mind aside afraid, until…
Ages and time uncounted had passed. Vincent’s mind was taken up by another body. A young boy with white hair. He looked dull but he began to scour the boy’s memories. “If ye be worthy…” The usual comments. This boy seemed to desire a hero’s blade, another to be corrupted his mind lamented. Not only that but he was a coward and quick to tears. He began to tell the boy he would not give him his power when the boy said something that confounded him. What did he mean he wanted him to hold off judgement!? Let him prove himself!? What sort of nerve was this!? Whoever had the gall to make a request with such a great spirit as he!? But it was such an interesting prospect… very well, it could be interesting to see what happens. Vincent’s mind conceded to the boy’s request.
Every so often the boy would try and wield Vincent’s power but what had the boy done to prove his worth!? Hardly, you fool! Vincent lashed out at the boy rendering his arm useless on multiple occasions. He was certain the boy would give up but no, he kept Vincent close regardless. How strange.
In time the boy stopped his tears altogether. He was confident and full of himself, surely he would fall soon enough, the cyclical pattern seemed like it would repeat itself as ever, and it did, no matter how different the boy seemed he too fell into hate and rage born of overconfidence, then the moment something did not go his way the boy returned to a sniveling wreck! Vincent felt his ire boil over as he began to scream at the boy! How pathetic! How disappointing! He should have destroyed him and been done with it instead of humoring some stupid request! Humans! They were truly irredeemable weren’t they?
And so Vincent’s mind was cast aside once more, but he failed to destroy the body, a shame that. His body grew vastly distant to his mind over time until one day his body returned repentant. Something fundamental was changed in the boy: humility. Vincent decided to watch calmly once more. His prior rage had passed but he certainly did not have much interest in offering his mind to the boy anytime soon.
His life was full of cruel irony though, wasn’t it? The boy was soon faced with something that even Vincent could not ignore. It was a dark power that shook Vincent down to some primal core! It was consuming another body and preparing to give birth to some horrific power. In a moment of mutual fear Vincent offered the boy his strength just this once. He now saw through his eyes as he allowed himself to bond with the boy before they struck down the growing darkness.
From that moment on the body and mind were inextricably linked. He began to talk with the boy on occasion, mostly he opted for insults and prying questions to understand him better. Then one day he found himself taken by another. Part of his mind remained with the boy, too weak to even speak to him, but the rest of him was being ordered and commanded by someone with perhaps the strongest dominating will he’d encountered yet. Murder upon murder he was forced to commit until he cried out to the fragment of his mind.
In time the boy came for Vincent and fought against the soulless man for ownership of him. Relief, and yet sadness overcame Vincent now, he was free of the wicked man but the boy sought to control his powers. He still could not give them to the boy, of that he adamantly refused. His mind was whole again… no… part of his mind was whole, but he could still feel his mind was fragmented, left in other places and more and more he desired to be whole again.
He and the boy began to talk more over time until the two came to a land filled with darkness and monsters that could not be permitted to exist. The boy was desperate to fight on equal grounds with those around him, but as far as Vincent was concerned he was still unworthy. His pleas nagged at him until he relented but the tiniest fraction of strength, and the boy was content, he did not demand more and… he even accepted that he had not earned the right to more yet? Vincent had no words for that except that he somehow wanted to see the boy succeed.
The fighting took its toll on the boy and he set Vincent aside for a time. How regrettable, but perhaps someone would seek him out again? Perhaps there were souls that could be good. But no, the boy returned to him. He asked if he could have that pittance of power again and Vincent accepted. Vincent and the boy began to speak at length now, such a curious thing. Millennia of life and many bodies he had united with but this was the first that any had spoken as though he too was a human.
The boy grew into a young man and Vincent began to share his actual power until the boy was under attack in a way he could not cope with. The boy’s very mind was under assault and Vincent knew he could help him but it would risk killing the boy to do so. Despite this risk the boy went so far as to TRUST Vincent, he had confidence in him to save him. Vincent was allowed into the boy’s mind where he lashed out at the infecting darkness, clearing it away and despite the pain it brought the boy he was never once a target of aggression. When it was all over the boy even thanked him.
“Anytime… partner.” Vincent felt happy to have met the boy, he really was someone that was too kind to be a warrior, and maybe that was why he wanted to continue to help the only person to ever ask for power and sought cooperation. The boy had grown and did not see him as the weapon he was, but rather the spirit that was encased within. Perhaps the boy could make peace with all of his parts.
And so came a time the boy was thrown from a rampart and left unconscious in a desperate battle. Vincent’s astral body was thrown away from the sword he previously took hold of. He gasped for breath and clutched at his racing chest. “What!?” What was his memory? What was the memory of the spirit in his blade? He tried to organize his thoughts and separate his life from the eternity he just experienced!
“With time my memory will mostly fade from you. Your mind is not meant to hold all of it.” A pause. “As you let me into your mind and body, now, so too have I done the same for you. And now you know the truth of my existence. I am not a blade of willpower; that was a reputation born from those that were strong enough of ego to suppress my strength and force it from me. You were the first to look to me and wish to have an alliance and even friendship with a sword!” Phoenix Heart laughed. “No, I should not say sword, you sought friendship with me, the spirit inhabiting the blade.”
“But, I thought you said the trial was dangerous?”
“I lied, the pain you experienced was brutal, true, but you would not have died. You did however have the willingness to trust yourself into the care of a spirit known to incinerate others. With this the trial is complete my friend. I have live your lifetime and you have lived mine, no deeper bond can be formed with a spirit.”
“So, what does this mean exactly though? What was the purpose?” Vincent was happy but so, so very confused. “Do not confuse it with possession but you and I can now become as one mind to let my power and your own become a singular force to bare against our foes.”
Vincent’s jaw went ajar, “We have that sort of power!?”
“We do. Feel proud Heelcutter, you are the first in many generations to accomplish this feat, and the first of my wielders.”
Vincent laughed. It wasn’t a joyous laugh, a hollow laugh, or any sort of laugh with meaning, he simply did not know what to say or do and so he laughed. “Well, I think now is as good a time as any to ask you this. If Phoenix Heart is the name of your sword, what is your true name, as a spirit?”
The spirit fell silent a moment a feeling of sadness and regrets washing over Vincent. “I do not know it I’m afraid. Within my other bodies the secret may lie, as well as the secrets of my true origins before becoming trapped and bound. I would like to ask of you, to reunite my other pieces.”
Vincent crossed his arms and smiled. “We’re partners and now you’ve called me a friend, and there is no mountain I will not climb for my friends, so, you have yourself a deal.”
“Thank you.”
Vincent felt his body being drawn back into his real body, it would seem that Mila was healing him and he would need to return to the battle at hand shortly. “Well, let’s smash these spiders up first, shall we?”
[End Thread]
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