Post by oberonfrost on Apr 30, 2012 23:08:20 GMT -5
Cody, Wyoming- February 14, 2012
“Ya call me when ya get to Texas, Garth Ellis,” said the auburn-haired as she climbed down from the back of her high school sweetheart’s Palomino mare. “I wanna know yer safe down there. But I want ya ta know, I’m not gonna be one’a them girls waits by the phone for her cowboy. I ain’t gonna be the one they bring that buckle and spurs ta when ya fall down.”
As Garth had steered his horse toward the girl’s family farm, the sky had opened up and soaked both youths to the bone. Now, as Cara climbed down from behind him, the rain had tapered off to barely a sprinkle. “Cara,” Garth started as he leapt to the ground, “don’t be like that. My parents are horse farmers! I’m smart, but we ain’t got any money to pay for college. Rodeo is the only thing I got, girl. Only thing besides you.”
“You been ridin’ horses since ‘fore you knew me, Garth.” He couldn’t tell if she was crying because of the rain streaking her face. There was a catch in her voice though, that made him think it wasn’t just raindrops streaming down her pale cheek. “And you’ll be ridin’ horses long after you forget about me.”
Garth reached out a hand, placing it gently on her arm. “All through high school, Cara, we been together. Everybody thought we’d be together forever. I ain’t ready to prove ‘em wrong.”
Cara tried to pull away, but Garth held her firmly. He pulled her close, his lips only inches from hers. “But they are wrong Garth,” she whispered. “Now kiss me one last time, cause this is the big goodbye cowboy.” The leaned into each other, their lips pushed together as they tongues went further.
Without warning Cara went limp and pulled away slightly. “She must be able to see the future,” said a woman’s voice from behind Cara. Sticking out of Cara’s abdomen was the tip of a sword, blue and transparent at the same time. The blade pulled backward and Cara’s body collapsed to the muddy ground. “Hope a last kiss was good enough ‘cowboy.’ I don’t offer my prey last meals.”
The woman was dressed in some kind of armor, scarlet in color. Her hair was an unnatural shade of violet, and stuck to her face and neck in the rain. “Garth Ellis, child of Atlantis, orphan of the Magus Purge, Surfacetorn and enemy of the Sovereignty, by order of His Royal Highness, King of the Sevens Seas, Orm of the Line of Arion, you are condemned to death.”
Republic, Missouri- February 14, 2012
Eighteen days Arthur had spent in the company of his silent companions. They had escaped from the Peaceful Pines Sanitarium in St. Paul. Since then Arthur had spent his days and nights keeping them safe, keeping them moving, and keeping them fed. He’d guided the group from train car to train car, they rode the rails as far as they could before Arthur needed to pick up the pace.
Eighteen days Arthur had been assaulted by a constant stream of his companions single thought, ::Ocean.:: They’d repeated it over and over, hundreds or perhaps thousands of times since they’d left Peaceful Pines. Arthur had managed to convince Charlie, who was somehow possessed of strength well beyond what he should, to break the lock on a eighteen wheel truck’s trailer. He herded the group inside moments before the driver fired up the engine and pulled back onto the interstate.
The side of the truck read “Shin’s Fresh Fish/ New Orleans, LA” on the side of the trailer. Inside, however, the truck was empty. Arthur’s mind was somehow still cloudy from the medications they’d given him at the sanitarium. He still couldn’t speak, and had begun to wonder if hearing his fellow escapees in his head was contributing to the fog the kept him from thinking clearly.
Still, he could manage enough logic to know that it would be hours before the truck stopped again. Since the trailer was empty, it was unlikely they’d be discovered even then. He tried to send out soothing thoughts, emotional imprints, to keep his companions calm and quiet. Arthur didn’t know how or why he could influence them like he did, or even why he could feel their minds flooding into his own, but he was glad he could.
The truck clattered down State Route 71 toward Interstate 540. Inside the truck’s trailer, Arthur tried to sleep. It was difficult to even begin to drift off with the rattle of the wheels on asphalt and the constant thrum of ::Ocean,:: beating rhythmically behind his eyes. Eventually, as weariness overwhelmed even those distractions, Arthur’s eyelids became heavy and he began to drift into a peaceful slumber.
Nisida Mikro- The Mediterranean Sea
Mary Pat Emerson stood on the beach. A storm was brewing out to see and she had come out to the white sandy coastline to watch it roll in. None of the heavy drops had reached the shore, but the winds were already whipping through the streets of the small town set in the island’s center. She was naked, except for the stuffed rabbit she clutched over the heart. ::My world,:: Mary thought.
The tide began to rise, soaking her feet. Heavy rolls of fat hung from her overburdened frame. As the winds became more fierce and the storm drew closer her flesh began to jiggle, leaping excitedly like a child expecting candy. Lightening flashed and thunder rolled at sea; the normally crystal blew sea turned black. As the first drops of cold sea rain hit her voluptuous form, Mary Pat Emerson opened her mouth in a guttural scream.
As she moaned out to the sea and storm, more mouths, some tiny and some large, opened along her naked body. More than forty in all, each one possessed two rows on razor sharp teeth on top and bottom. They shrieked like the hounds of hell as the storm came closer. ::My joy,:: Pat dreamed.
Her many mouths drank in the raindrops as they fell. Winds rose to a howl, drowning out Mary Pat Emerson’s terrible wail. Waves rose off the island’s coast and lightening continued to flash in the sky. ::My fury,:: Emerson screamed over the psychic link. ::Drown them! Drown them all!::
Mary Pat Emerson began to spin in the storm. She turned in circles faster and faster, reaching speeds much too high for a woman of her size. The air seemed to warp around as he as twirled and twisted in the storm. The storm seemed drawn in by her turning. The ocean tides rushed in to meet her, the waves wrapping around her like the arms of a lover. Lightening struck a palm tree less then a mile down the beach.
Even as the ocean tide came in further, above her waist and rising, Mary Pat Emerson continue to turn in circles. She stretched out her arms and a wave crested on the horizon, higher than the tallest point on the island. ::Drown!:: Emerson’s voice broke through the howling winds as the swell crashed upon her and she shore. The deluge washed through the streets of the village, catching the citizens and their belongings in the unforgiving currents.
Mary Pat Emerson continued to spin. As the air had warped around her before, now the water churned as she spun. A whirlpool faster and stronger than anything Arthur had ever imagined, even when he’d found himself swimming against one in his coma dream, formed around Mary Pat Emerson. As the tides drew in fish, livestock, and people the mouths that covered her body snapped open and closed, rending flesh from bone. It was like watching a school of piranhas devour the entire village.
::Ocean,:: all three of Mary Pat Emerson’s voices said in unison and resumed their chanting. The whirlpool that spun was streaked with blood. The island of Nisida Mikro was covered, sunk beneath the black waves Mary Pat Emerson had drawn there. ::Ocean. My world. My joy. My fury,:: all three voices said.
Bella Vista, Arkansas- February 14, 2012
Arthur sat upright in the truck as the vision he had shared with Mary Pat Emerson ended. He was groggy, she he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. He didn’t understand exactly what he had seen and experienced in the mindscape the he shared with the others. Regardless, the fear he felt after feeling her joy at sinking an entire island full of people was real enough.
::We scare you?:: Emerson’s voice broke through the pervasive chant coming from the others. ::Don’t fret little sea king, even if we wanted to, and we really, really, really, really, really want to, we couldn’t drown you.::
Cody, Wyoming- February 14, 2012
Garth didn’t know what was happening. Cara was dead, he was sure of that. Nothing the woman who had killed her said made any sense to him though. Fight of flight instincts kicked in and Garth mounted his horse, Imp in one quick leap and spurred her into action. The Palomino took off and Garth turned her in a wide arc back the way he’d come.
‘If I can get back to the barn, I can get my rifle,’ he thought as Imp hurtled down the path from Cara’s parents place to his own family’s farm. ‘Then this’ll be over in a shot.’ He squeezed his legs tighter around Imp and she picked up speed as the hit the well worn dirt path, mostly packed down by Imp’s own hooves over the years.
Siren watched the Surfacetorn take flight on his mount as she subtly motioned for her troops to join her. “He’ll head toward his home. Get there before him. I’ll push him in that direction. Hurry. Now,” she said and motioned them away just as quickly as she had summoned them. The Atlantean soldiers took off on foot, into the trees toward the Ellis farm.
Even as fast he as was pushing Imp, Garth still dared to look behind him. What he saw didn’t make any sense. Siren was riding a horse of her own, blue and transparent just as her sword had been when she had killed Cara. The raindrops pouring down seemed to flow into the horse as it barreled down the path in pursuit.
He dared not push Imp any harder than he already was, and Garth was sure that he wasn’t going to make it home to the gun. The water-horse Siren had created was gaining, somehow able to move fasted than Imp on the trail.
“You are an enemy of Atlantis, Surfacetorn!” Siren bellowed from behind. A wall of water rose up on the path in front of Garth with a wave of her hand. Imp stopped short, rearing up onto her hind legs and nearly throwing Garth from the saddle. “House Xebel serves our king by hunting down your kind.” Another wave of her hand and the rain formed bonds as tight and as real as iron around Garth’s chest and thighs. “Only when all the Surfacetorn have been eliminated can Atlantis truly be safe.”
Garth hung in the air, supported solely by Siren’s force of will holding the straps around aloft. The armored Atlantean stepped toward him, another water-blade forming in her hand, this one shorter and thinner than the one she’d used to murder Cara, its blade curved wickedly. “Once more, Garth Ellis, by decree of Lord Orm, sovereign of Atlantis, your life is forfeit.”
Siren brought the blade to Garth’s neck. The liquid that made up the blade was cold as it touched his skin. The blade was as sharp as steel and cut lightly into his flesh, a thin stream of blood fell down over his collar bone, diluted by the falling rain.
Without warning there was an explosion of water between Garth and his assailant. Siren flew backward, the water-blade dissolving as it fell from her hand. The bonds incapacitating Garth melted away as well and he fell to the ground with a thud, covered in mud.
“Your bloodlust goes unquenched,” said another woman’s voice from the shadows. “Unless you think you can manage to take some of mine.” Lightening flashed and Garth could see her standing just a few feet away. She was dressed in armor just like the woman who had attacked him, though hers was a deep green, where Siren’s was crimson. She had scarlet hair, that despite the torrential rains was completely dry. In one hand she held her own water-blade and in her other a shield, also forged from raindrops.
Siren gazed at her sister just as Garth did. “Traitor,” she spat as she jumped to her feet. “You dishonor our House even further!” Siren formed a blade in each hand, rainwater flowing toward her. The temperature of the water increased in each sword until it boiled, bubbling beneath the surface with steady jets of steam pouring skyward. “I will quench the heat of my swords in your blood, dear sister. Then I will kill the Surfacetorn and I will present both your heads to Orm!”
“Ya call me when ya get to Texas, Garth Ellis,” said the auburn-haired as she climbed down from the back of her high school sweetheart’s Palomino mare. “I wanna know yer safe down there. But I want ya ta know, I’m not gonna be one’a them girls waits by the phone for her cowboy. I ain’t gonna be the one they bring that buckle and spurs ta when ya fall down.”
As Garth had steered his horse toward the girl’s family farm, the sky had opened up and soaked both youths to the bone. Now, as Cara climbed down from behind him, the rain had tapered off to barely a sprinkle. “Cara,” Garth started as he leapt to the ground, “don’t be like that. My parents are horse farmers! I’m smart, but we ain’t got any money to pay for college. Rodeo is the only thing I got, girl. Only thing besides you.”
“You been ridin’ horses since ‘fore you knew me, Garth.” He couldn’t tell if she was crying because of the rain streaking her face. There was a catch in her voice though, that made him think it wasn’t just raindrops streaming down her pale cheek. “And you’ll be ridin’ horses long after you forget about me.”
Garth reached out a hand, placing it gently on her arm. “All through high school, Cara, we been together. Everybody thought we’d be together forever. I ain’t ready to prove ‘em wrong.”
Cara tried to pull away, but Garth held her firmly. He pulled her close, his lips only inches from hers. “But they are wrong Garth,” she whispered. “Now kiss me one last time, cause this is the big goodbye cowboy.” The leaned into each other, their lips pushed together as they tongues went further.
Without warning Cara went limp and pulled away slightly. “She must be able to see the future,” said a woman’s voice from behind Cara. Sticking out of Cara’s abdomen was the tip of a sword, blue and transparent at the same time. The blade pulled backward and Cara’s body collapsed to the muddy ground. “Hope a last kiss was good enough ‘cowboy.’ I don’t offer my prey last meals.”
The woman was dressed in some kind of armor, scarlet in color. Her hair was an unnatural shade of violet, and stuck to her face and neck in the rain. “Garth Ellis, child of Atlantis, orphan of the Magus Purge, Surfacetorn and enemy of the Sovereignty, by order of His Royal Highness, King of the Sevens Seas, Orm of the Line of Arion, you are condemned to death.”
Republic, Missouri- February 14, 2012
Eighteen days Arthur had spent in the company of his silent companions. They had escaped from the Peaceful Pines Sanitarium in St. Paul. Since then Arthur had spent his days and nights keeping them safe, keeping them moving, and keeping them fed. He’d guided the group from train car to train car, they rode the rails as far as they could before Arthur needed to pick up the pace.
Eighteen days Arthur had been assaulted by a constant stream of his companions single thought, ::Ocean.:: They’d repeated it over and over, hundreds or perhaps thousands of times since they’d left Peaceful Pines. Arthur had managed to convince Charlie, who was somehow possessed of strength well beyond what he should, to break the lock on a eighteen wheel truck’s trailer. He herded the group inside moments before the driver fired up the engine and pulled back onto the interstate.
The side of the truck read “Shin’s Fresh Fish/ New Orleans, LA” on the side of the trailer. Inside, however, the truck was empty. Arthur’s mind was somehow still cloudy from the medications they’d given him at the sanitarium. He still couldn’t speak, and had begun to wonder if hearing his fellow escapees in his head was contributing to the fog the kept him from thinking clearly.
Still, he could manage enough logic to know that it would be hours before the truck stopped again. Since the trailer was empty, it was unlikely they’d be discovered even then. He tried to send out soothing thoughts, emotional imprints, to keep his companions calm and quiet. Arthur didn’t know how or why he could influence them like he did, or even why he could feel their minds flooding into his own, but he was glad he could.
The truck clattered down State Route 71 toward Interstate 540. Inside the truck’s trailer, Arthur tried to sleep. It was difficult to even begin to drift off with the rattle of the wheels on asphalt and the constant thrum of ::Ocean,:: beating rhythmically behind his eyes. Eventually, as weariness overwhelmed even those distractions, Arthur’s eyelids became heavy and he began to drift into a peaceful slumber.
Nisida Mikro- The Mediterranean Sea
Mary Pat Emerson stood on the beach. A storm was brewing out to see and she had come out to the white sandy coastline to watch it roll in. None of the heavy drops had reached the shore, but the winds were already whipping through the streets of the small town set in the island’s center. She was naked, except for the stuffed rabbit she clutched over the heart. ::My world,:: Mary thought.
The tide began to rise, soaking her feet. Heavy rolls of fat hung from her overburdened frame. As the winds became more fierce and the storm drew closer her flesh began to jiggle, leaping excitedly like a child expecting candy. Lightening flashed and thunder rolled at sea; the normally crystal blew sea turned black. As the first drops of cold sea rain hit her voluptuous form, Mary Pat Emerson opened her mouth in a guttural scream.
As she moaned out to the sea and storm, more mouths, some tiny and some large, opened along her naked body. More than forty in all, each one possessed two rows on razor sharp teeth on top and bottom. They shrieked like the hounds of hell as the storm came closer. ::My joy,:: Pat dreamed.
Her many mouths drank in the raindrops as they fell. Winds rose to a howl, drowning out Mary Pat Emerson’s terrible wail. Waves rose off the island’s coast and lightening continued to flash in the sky. ::My fury,:: Emerson screamed over the psychic link. ::Drown them! Drown them all!::
Mary Pat Emerson began to spin in the storm. She turned in circles faster and faster, reaching speeds much too high for a woman of her size. The air seemed to warp around as he as twirled and twisted in the storm. The storm seemed drawn in by her turning. The ocean tides rushed in to meet her, the waves wrapping around her like the arms of a lover. Lightening struck a palm tree less then a mile down the beach.
Even as the ocean tide came in further, above her waist and rising, Mary Pat Emerson continue to turn in circles. She stretched out her arms and a wave crested on the horizon, higher than the tallest point on the island. ::Drown!:: Emerson’s voice broke through the howling winds as the swell crashed upon her and she shore. The deluge washed through the streets of the village, catching the citizens and their belongings in the unforgiving currents.
Mary Pat Emerson continued to spin. As the air had warped around her before, now the water churned as she spun. A whirlpool faster and stronger than anything Arthur had ever imagined, even when he’d found himself swimming against one in his coma dream, formed around Mary Pat Emerson. As the tides drew in fish, livestock, and people the mouths that covered her body snapped open and closed, rending flesh from bone. It was like watching a school of piranhas devour the entire village.
::Ocean,:: all three of Mary Pat Emerson’s voices said in unison and resumed their chanting. The whirlpool that spun was streaked with blood. The island of Nisida Mikro was covered, sunk beneath the black waves Mary Pat Emerson had drawn there. ::Ocean. My world. My joy. My fury,:: all three voices said.
Bella Vista, Arkansas- February 14, 2012
Arthur sat upright in the truck as the vision he had shared with Mary Pat Emerson ended. He was groggy, she he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. He didn’t understand exactly what he had seen and experienced in the mindscape the he shared with the others. Regardless, the fear he felt after feeling her joy at sinking an entire island full of people was real enough.
::We scare you?:: Emerson’s voice broke through the pervasive chant coming from the others. ::Don’t fret little sea king, even if we wanted to, and we really, really, really, really, really want to, we couldn’t drown you.::
Cody, Wyoming- February 14, 2012
Garth didn’t know what was happening. Cara was dead, he was sure of that. Nothing the woman who had killed her said made any sense to him though. Fight of flight instincts kicked in and Garth mounted his horse, Imp in one quick leap and spurred her into action. The Palomino took off and Garth turned her in a wide arc back the way he’d come.
‘If I can get back to the barn, I can get my rifle,’ he thought as Imp hurtled down the path from Cara’s parents place to his own family’s farm. ‘Then this’ll be over in a shot.’ He squeezed his legs tighter around Imp and she picked up speed as the hit the well worn dirt path, mostly packed down by Imp’s own hooves over the years.
Siren watched the Surfacetorn take flight on his mount as she subtly motioned for her troops to join her. “He’ll head toward his home. Get there before him. I’ll push him in that direction. Hurry. Now,” she said and motioned them away just as quickly as she had summoned them. The Atlantean soldiers took off on foot, into the trees toward the Ellis farm.
Even as fast he as was pushing Imp, Garth still dared to look behind him. What he saw didn’t make any sense. Siren was riding a horse of her own, blue and transparent just as her sword had been when she had killed Cara. The raindrops pouring down seemed to flow into the horse as it barreled down the path in pursuit.
He dared not push Imp any harder than he already was, and Garth was sure that he wasn’t going to make it home to the gun. The water-horse Siren had created was gaining, somehow able to move fasted than Imp on the trail.
“You are an enemy of Atlantis, Surfacetorn!” Siren bellowed from behind. A wall of water rose up on the path in front of Garth with a wave of her hand. Imp stopped short, rearing up onto her hind legs and nearly throwing Garth from the saddle. “House Xebel serves our king by hunting down your kind.” Another wave of her hand and the rain formed bonds as tight and as real as iron around Garth’s chest and thighs. “Only when all the Surfacetorn have been eliminated can Atlantis truly be safe.”
Garth hung in the air, supported solely by Siren’s force of will holding the straps around aloft. The armored Atlantean stepped toward him, another water-blade forming in her hand, this one shorter and thinner than the one she’d used to murder Cara, its blade curved wickedly. “Once more, Garth Ellis, by decree of Lord Orm, sovereign of Atlantis, your life is forfeit.”
Siren brought the blade to Garth’s neck. The liquid that made up the blade was cold as it touched his skin. The blade was as sharp as steel and cut lightly into his flesh, a thin stream of blood fell down over his collar bone, diluted by the falling rain.
Without warning there was an explosion of water between Garth and his assailant. Siren flew backward, the water-blade dissolving as it fell from her hand. The bonds incapacitating Garth melted away as well and he fell to the ground with a thud, covered in mud.
“Your bloodlust goes unquenched,” said another woman’s voice from the shadows. “Unless you think you can manage to take some of mine.” Lightening flashed and Garth could see her standing just a few feet away. She was dressed in armor just like the woman who had attacked him, though hers was a deep green, where Siren’s was crimson. She had scarlet hair, that despite the torrential rains was completely dry. In one hand she held her own water-blade and in her other a shield, also forged from raindrops.
Siren gazed at her sister just as Garth did. “Traitor,” she spat as she jumped to her feet. “You dishonor our House even further!” Siren formed a blade in each hand, rainwater flowing toward her. The temperature of the water increased in each sword until it boiled, bubbling beneath the surface with steady jets of steam pouring skyward. “I will quench the heat of my swords in your blood, dear sister. Then I will kill the Surfacetorn and I will present both your heads to Orm!”