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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2018 22:34:01 GMT -5
Ugh... boring, boring, BORING.
It had been a Bronze Age since the last tournament where that multi-armed dork won. Sheesh, what had these tournaments gone to? They were starting to stink worse than many of the residents here if such a schmuck won. That wouldn't be happening in Hades's Underdrome, NO SIR. Hades himself had been pacing back and forth, plotting and waiting. His ringer, Sir Emotionless-As-A-Rock, reported that Megara had gone missing. While Hades had contemplating throwing the glasses-wearing freak into Styx, he needed a good ringer to defeat Dorkules. And boy, he had a doozy of a ringer. This guy was going to be the one and unlike Spiky and Ol' Story Guy, Mordred wasn't about to betray Hades or let him down. And hey, if he wasn't, he'd weaken Jerkules enough so that the Lord of the Dead could swoop in for the kill. Now to find a way to lure him down here...
"Uuuuuuuuuugh, this is so frustrating. Just because Stiffy McGee couldn't find ONE chick in all of Greece, now I gotta find a way to get that Zero down here. Ok, so, Nutmeg's outta the question. Can't just imprison dear ol' Dad down here, either. I'd rather listen to one of Aeschylus's plays for the rest of eternity than listen to that idiot satyr's voice for five seconds and who cares about a dumb horse? There's gotta be someone out there that can lure that giant lummox down here so he can enjoy the beach side view for eternity. I mean, who wouldn't, honestly?" Hades slumped down into his throne, annoyed at all this. He steepled his fingers and racked his brains on what to do. As long as that bozo existed, his plan to take over the cosmos was at a stand still. However, nothing was coming to mind. It was ridiculous, he had to think of something! After all, a golden opportunity wasn't gonna just fall into his lap!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2018 5:45:06 GMT -5
A fracas built in the great antechamber’s beyond the plutonian throne room, eventually becoming audible even in the cavernous vastness. Canine snarls, the ring of metal, and frustrated yelling interspersed with arcane mantras resounded through chthonic apertures. Thunderous booms followed bestial roars and the locus of sound shifted subtlety in direction as the engagement migrated between and back through subterranean chambers. It pace quickened as skirmishes devolved into frenzied havoc. Howls and grunts of pain became more frequently interspaced with thuds and crashes full-bodied impact that gradually grew nearer. The subsiding was sudden, following by a low whine then trailed off into silence.
Eventually a small battered figure walked into sight, dwarfed to ant-like insignificance by the Underworld’s byzantine immensity. The young man’s stride was steady, but had the slightly locked gait of someone long since running on pure will and endorphins alone. Sodden shoes trailed Styx’s necrotic ectoplasm in vaporous moaning puddles. Bandoliers of empty potions vials and charred spelunking equipment clinked with each step, evincing a long string of abyssal acquaintances the boy’d already made. The goo, ice, and lingering shadowstuff caking the two key-like blades each held in white-knuckled hands confirmed they hadn’t been neighborly.
A slow determined march end at the foot of the dais. Weary but resolute blue eyes looked up at the recumbent deity from a face festooned with cuts, soot, and bruises.
“Are you Hades?”
@hades
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Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2018 11:36:54 GMT -5
Ah, the Miracle of narrative causality. Hades could hear the fights going on the rest of the Underworld from here. At first, he was incensed, but then he figured he'd let whoever was causing the mess to get up to his throne room. After all, torching insolent pests himself was so much more fun than just letting someone have all the fun. Eventually, his invader finally showed his bruised and battered face. And it was a kid with the worst haircut. Just the worst. Hades raised an eyebrow. How could a mere kid get up to his throne room? Then the Lord of the Dead noticed just what the kid was carrying. Keyblades. Plural, no less. Two of them, to be exact. Well, things were about to finally get interesting. Was the kid twice the Keyblader Sora was but also just as stupid? If so, then Hades could have his Lure, if he played his cards right. Hades smirked as he got up from his throne.
"Well, look what the Dead dragged in. Heh. Hey, I'm Hades, Lord of the Dead, how ya doin'? Don't answer that, you look like rotten moussaka. Anyways, I usually don't get solicitors all the way down here, so why don't you just skedaddle on outta here, kid. Unless you really want a room here, then buddy, I always got vacancies." Hades seemed to float over to Roxas, smiling down on him rather cruelly. "Ya know, I'm surprised you made it all the way up here. Most living people don't usually stay that way, if ya get what I'm putting down. But that's the power of the Keyblade for you, I suppose." Hades then waited for the kid to state his business. Hades wasn't completely heartless, after all. If people were dumb enough to come traipsing expecting help, who was he to deny them? Besides, Hades had a good feeling about this kid. And he was rarely ever wrong.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2018 16:09:00 GMT -5
As a young man raised by a violent cult centered around a giant soul-eating heart-shaped moon, Roxas had little in the way of preconceived notions when it came to how a divine being should act. Yet somehow, the Lord of Erebus nevertheless managed to cause dissonance with expectation. The closest person that came to mind as Roxas tried to process the situation was maybe Braig, if the Freeshooter spoke twice as fast and was blue, omnipotent, and literally on fire.
Roxas had to resist taking an instinctive step back as Hades drifted forward. There was something about the chthonic creature that frazzled the instincts all wrong, though the Keyblader would’ve struggled to put words to why exactly. Hades seemed to anticipate Roxas’ unfamiliarity with the term ‘rhetorical question’ and the boy was caught open-mouthed in mid-answer as the deity continued to discuss the local post-mortem lodgings.
Though Roxas consciously considered himself immune to Hades whimful rapport, a trickle of pride dripped into a his gut at the acknowledgment of his strength. A small self-satisfied smirk hinted at a flaw Roxas’ Other didn’t share. “No offense but I’m not looking to stay,” Roxas began. “Opposite actually,” the Key Destiny continued with characteristic injudiciousness. “There’s someone who deserves to live again, and I’ve heard you are the guy who can make that happen.” A thought dispersed Oathkeeper and Oblivion into filaments of light. The young warrior slipped his empty hands into what was left of his pockets, showing he come to make a deal rather then empty threats.
“What would it take?”
@hades
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