Adam Skelecoot ((Roleplay Creator))'s Story

The group of misfits would listen to the lady's intoxicated rambling with a few smirks. Although they couldn't piece together what she was talking about, words like "void" and "mirror fragments" fleeted across their minds. It was evident that whatever this, this thing was, it-she-whatever belonged to somewhere within the edge of the Imagiverse, where emotions and incoherent dreams were more strong, the cortex if you know the brain well. In fact, the Imagiverse is like a brain put back-to-front, with the conscious neo-cortex section of the Imagiverse located in the middle, where the known worlds reside, and the emotional, illogical cortex around the edge.
This, any psycho-astrophysicist knew very well. But the Chosen Ones, who were enjoying themselves as the woman fell backwards on the floor, had no truck with it.
Another enigma, evident when Adam Skelecoot took a jolly swill of his ale, was how skeletons could drink without the necessary equipment, i.e organs. Anima-kinesiologists around the Imagiverse have determined that the said drink, when "consumed" by the corpse, transfers to the spiritual realm, where the undead's soul has all the equipment to actually consume and, and this is the Skelecoots didn't know until too late, get drunk.
So the observers in the pub would see the swig of ale pass down the bottom of the skull, reach the top of the ribcage and vanish, as if going through an invisible pipe. It didn't bother his now-slightly-pissed comrades, who were too busy laughing at the immobilised woman.

Vargas paid close attention to Chuza's speech. He was not drunk...yet, but he was still able to perceive the things around him. He would never know what it was like to be in a void, with silence all around. Chuza then started a toast to just existing. Vargas partook in the toast along with everyone in the room with a roar of approval.

Valfiel was busy drinking a nice ale like the guys while Elyzia was sitting next to her sister with a cup of low alcohol wine. Vargas himself was slowly getting drunk with a nice drink laughing heartily as his face began to become flushed. After a long days work it was nice to rest with a cold cup of ale.

All was lively and the stage had new performers, filling the bar with music. Soon a new figure entered the building, and her very presence seemed to ooze something...threatening about her. Wearing a long dress, long white hair. She seemed confident in the presence of this many people. She soon took a seat, and remained quiet. Vargas quickly noticed her and seemed to remember her...however his drunken state would not allow him to think clearly.

Chuza laid there, between a state of consciousness, staring up blankly upon a swirling ceiling, all the while flooded with thoughts in her stillness. She, that is, the collective Owru, was never a being to just... stop thinking. If she was not awake and actively checking the world around her, she was dreaming and in turn influencing her Land of Nod. Right now much of her thoughts were muddied, but also unfiltered.

"In a sea of shards, neither shadow nor light, cast from the all consuming," she mutters reaching up towards the air. "Losing self before there was a self to lose, a rage filling until there was nothing to hate, crying until there were no more tears to shed... filled with nothing until nothing remained... Zilthai... why do you cover your eyes?"

As she babbled, she somewhat took a groggy notice of the figure that recently came in, the sense of which distorting her vision slightly more than the liquor did. Suddenly sitting up she watches the person from the corner of her eye curiously.

"A warped mirror with edges cracked," she mutters to herself, trying to rationalize a feeling she got from this individual then holds her head and chuckles lightly. "Ah, haha, what spacial anomaly be this that makes me such a clutz? I feel so funny, I am so sorry, I am not normally like this."

As they listened to the alien-woman's drunken ramblings, the Chosen Few would notice a new figure entering the pub, her being emanating a hound-like menace that seemed to fill the entire building. She was beautiful, though, in her long dress and flowing white hair. She seemed like someone important, although it may not be wise to draw her attention yet.
"Hey, Vargas," Fancy said, nudging the armoured hero, nodding towards the newcomer. "You recognise her?"
The rest of the group were pinning their attention towards the incapacitated woman, drinking their ale, attempting in vain to decipher what the hell she was saying. Where-ever this "Nod" was, it was enough to split a being into many personalities like a mirror. That, for some reason, seemed more frightening than the demons they've encountered rolled in one.

"I swear I think I know her...Hey, Valfiel...Elyzia...you guys still sober?"Vargas replied as he turned to face the two sisters. Unfortanantly for him it seems they were drunk and tipsy respectively. He could feel this aura of danger, and he needed to get sober quickly.

Vargas thought for a moment, he did not have anything on him at this moment that would instantly cure his drunken state. However one of the knights from outside the city barged inside the bar. "Everyone! The God Maxwell is in the city! Run for your---Ah! She is already here!" The man pointed at the woman who had just entered the bar. He immediately ran the opposite direction and ran for his life.

Almost as if everyone had a dose of adrenaline, the patrons all scattered as Vargas quickly sobered up as he drew his sword. Valfiel and Elyzia also drew their scythes doing a less impressive job at sobering up. "Even in this state, you all huddle together using simple beverages to ease your pain despite a looming threat. Sometimes we can never understand you mortals." The woman now known as Maxwell stood up from her seat as she commented on what was going on.

Vargas quickly signaled for the others. "That is the fallen God! Get yourself undrunk quickly! She is no simple God, some say she created Grand Gaia! Her power is immense!"

As a sudden ruckus broke out in the bar Chuza was smacked back into the current reality, while unaffected reflexes catches a chair sent falling towards her face by a panicked patron, the strange part being that it was not with her hands, but from her focus upon it. She carefully sat the chair back in place and floated up onto her feet, still holding her head. Then she looked to the source of all these people's fears and squinted her eyes.

"What is so hard to understand," she responds, still somewhat groggy but now standing upright. "It is because of their state that they huddle together, a seeking of affirmation and a reminder that they are not alone, that all is not lost. If you are the creator as they say, I would have thought you of any would be capable to understand."

She finally opens her third eye observing the entirety of the space around her, every flow of energy and fluctuations of the veil. She waits calmly, not ready to assault someone on a whim regardless the reactions of the people who just stormed out, it was a courtesy, a benefit of the doubt.

The sudden realization did the equivalent of several pints of black coffee and a good night's sleep. The Chosen Ones drew their reinvigorated attention towards the Creator of Grand Gaia. Of course there had to be a Creator to create Grand Gaia, only a being of their stature can truly bring a world to existence. But never, in their lives' knowledge of gods, have the Chosen Few heard of a Creator named Maxwell. The awakened heroes unsheathed their weaponry, with one exception pulling out a cream pie.
"Funny thing," Adam said, mainly to the group. "The Creators we know are all glowy and stuff. They don't look exactly... mortal."
"Maybe because that's not her final form," muttered Max, crackling his knuckles, his robotic arm producing a few small clangs.
"Guys," Fancy said, a tad more terrified than his comrades. "When he mentioned a god, he didn't say it was a Creator. This is too much for us, admit it! I'd rather eat my hair!"
"Shut up and get ready for a poundin', then," snapped Max.

Maxwell looked at the group in front of her, they all looked prepared to fight with the sole exception of one. The one that did not look eager to fight gave an explanation as to why mortals would gather together under such circumstances. "Interesting explanation...gathering together to seek comfort with others." She spoke nodding to herself.

"That God may be a creator but all Gods can still die! There's seven of us! All with a good amount of power! Even with her power we will destroy that God!" Witha warcry Vargas charged first sword by his side eager to strike. Maxwell conjured a spear and blocked his strike with the resonating power sending chairs and tables flying. "Either you all are brave or foolish enough to challenge a God...you might just do, if I can't gather the six then you seven will have to do..." Maxwell muttered as she used her power of creation to bend the space around them. The bar began to transform and change as they were all pulled into a void resembling space with stars twinkling around them they they were brought into a new space.

They appeared inside a castle, flags decorating the walls and long hallways jutting all around. Unleashing a blast of power, Maxwell sent Vargas skidding back to the group. "Come then mortals, if you do not defeat me I will destroy everyone and everything that remains in the lands of Agni. If you wish to stop me then use all you have to have a chance at defeating me." She then pointed at the group as she raised her spear and then threw it at them to signal the fight.

What was a moment of silence was suddenly broken as Vargas charged and attacked the one named Maxwell. Chuza just stared at them in their conflict, her eyes wide as they thrash about and then observed the collapse of reality before them. She understood everything that was going on, but not the why, why a creator would destroy something, or why a portion of herself desired it as well. There she stood, trying to understand the reason behind all this, as reality reconstructed itself as an expansive and hollow castle was formed around them.

"Why," she mutters, as Vargas was repelled, putting a hand out and catching him, a power within her just willing him to sudden yet gentle stop then steps in front, with the intent to beg for reason, but before she did, Maxwell had given an ultimatum and tossed her spear towards them, to which she responds to immediately by snapping her arms down evenly, split between the seam between the white and black, her cloak now erect, translucent and glowing with a ghostly blue light as it sways, resembling some blend between fairy and angel wings. She sways her, now four in number, arms in almost a dance as she twirls softly motioning towards the spear letting loose some subtle force in an effort to divert its course.
"What is the point of this, what is there to gain? Your actions... they confuse me, Creator Maxwell!"

With a sigh she completes her active form, her halo lights, orbited by rings of foreign lettering, and holds her white hands to her chest, a somber expression overtaking her face.

"I hate this... in all the fragments of possibility, yours is not the visage of the Hollowed... however... I will not allow you to take what little these people possess."

The Chosen Few watched in horrified fascination as the very fabric of reality bent around them, at one point the bar, then in the middle of deep space, and then within an anonymous castle. Gaining confidence from the Gaian hero's battlecry, their stances become more confident, preparing to either block or dodge whatever the Creator throws at them, or directly assaulting her. Vargas had a point: even if they never knew any being that could kill a Creator, other than a being like the Maelstrom, they would damn well find out for themselves. It was certain, this was the ultimate test of their spunk; they would either win and prove they could withstand anything, or die and.... actually, they don't know what would happen if they die, possibly come back to life or something, but they're willing to find out.
If Chuza is successful in diverting the spear's trajectory - if it was still coming for them, they would duck under it - the group would charge towards Maxwell, Max coming from the left, Fancy coming from the right and Adam Skelecoot, his sword glowing almost blindingly now, in the centre. Jack, still holding the pie, now considering the actual usefulness of said pie, would run into a position between Adam and Fancy's path and lob the pie at Maxwell's face, attempting the time-honoured Toon tradition of stunning his enemy. It wasn't as aggressive as he would have wanted, but then again, Toons weren't made for combat, so his main mode of action was attempting to disorientate his opponent, giving his comrades a chance of landing a strike on said opponent.
As for the others, Adam would attempt a leftward slash around the Creator's abdominal region, Max would attempt a right hook at her head, and Fancy would stab at her side with his giant pencil. Despite its appearance, the pencil is in fact as much as a weapon as a spear, it's carbon tip sharp enough to not just leave a mark on you, but also lacerate the mark as well. It would be pretty useless, and very brief for Fancy, if the pencil wasn't utilised for combat, otherwise it was just a pencil for ogres.

Vargas charged straight at the middle along with Adam, using his power his own energy began to empower everyone giving them a boost in power. Elyzia and Valfiel both split up with their scythes at the ready charging at the Gods flanks, Elyzia at the left and Valfiel at the right. For the spear that was sent, it would fly off course impacting the wall of the castle, imbedding itself into the wall.

Taking stock of the Enemy, Maxwell was hit in the face by a pie. Of course she saw the pie coming but was not interested in wasting time avoiding something that people eat. Of course she began to slowly wipe the pie from her face giving the group enough time to close the distance "Take this! Flare Ride!" Vargas yelled as he soared into the air then brought his sword down at her. Adam went for his leftward slash, Fancy stabbed her with his pencil. Elyzia and Valfiel went right behind her and swung their scythes in a wide arc.

The attacks all hit, Maxwell was hit by the surprisingly strong assault. Each attack made their mark, and with everyones combined assault they managed to injure the God but none did pierce her surprising sturdy form. However being surrounded she warped from her position a few yards away from the group, her dress with many marks and even some blood was dripping from her. However the cuts were not deep enough to cause any significant damage. The spear that she had thrown earlier appeared in her hands once again, however this time she pointed it in the air as the ceiling peeled away and was replaced by the void of space. "Crude but effective...You have power, however let us see if you can withstand my attacks." With that said, suddenly stars appeared in the vast void...but they were coming closer to them...

She stares at the battle unfolding, her jaw agape for a moment, uncertain as to what to say or do. They had began to fight with all they had, throwing everything at her at their disposal, even a... pie. And yet she stood there, mulling over why it all even has to be this way, and if anything she did from here would be of benefit to all. It is fear, that is what it is... fear that either way she acts, she causes irrevocable harm, that if she helps them she takes part in destroying a form of life, possibly dooming them to oblivion, and if not then she risks them a similar fate. She lowers and holds her head in shame of her indecisiveness. Then from inside a voice rings out.

"You are just a coward, so afraid of any wrong that you can't even do something right! I thought you said you were going to show her the door... well, look at you now! If you just do nothing... L...Laadan will never forgive you."

She snaps her head up and with elegant motion suddenly strikes together her black hands in a thunderous clap in front of her chest, then swings out her white arms, the impact sending out ripples in space outwards from her feet, like a drop in a pool of water. She raises her white arms as spacial fabric, amorphous like fluid spirals around her body, molding into a ball of warped space into her black hands then flings upwards like pizza dough, it forming into a barrier over the group of heroes from the coming onslaught of stars.

"Creator Maxwell, I am Chuza, a fragment of the Outsider, Owru! If I am a god or something else it matters not, I am not going to allow you to destroy what little the people of Grand Gaia have left, and I am not going to let you destroy the closest thing I have to friends, either!"

The overall damage done to the Creator was... dissappointing. Despite her appearance, Maxwell seems to be surprisingly endurant, the assault being reduced to small but bleeding cuts. As she deducted the overall attack, the ceiling of the castle began to sag, being replaced by the usual black void, which was filling up with stars. Funny, they seem to be growing...
the Chosen Few panicked briefly, sticking their weaponry up in hopes of blocking the celestial arrows speeding towards them. They then watched as an undefinable ball of space, like a heat-haze in a desert, was flung upwards and formed into a transparent umbrella, blocking the arriving stars.
With the impending doom averted, the Chosen Ones returned their attention to Maxwell. The Robloxian's mechanical arm began to flux, the metal plates expanding, revealing lines of blue light. A hole opened up in its palm, revealing a light, faint at first, then grew into the brightness of a hallway lightbulb. Max held the upper arm with his other hand, preparing to lift up the arm. What made his cyber arm a strong weapon was it's other mode, transforming it into a laser cannon, using it's mini-reactor to generate enough electricity to condense said power into a strong, plasmic beam, proven to melt through several layers of titanium. One would wonder, as pack as the arm was, how Max was able to even lift the damn thing. The simple answer was due to his superhuman strength that made him the muscles of the ragtag group.
Indicating his group to stand to the side, he would lift his arm like a cannon, the palm now glowing like the sun. The glow started to hum, and then a thick beam of incandescant plasma sped towards the Creator with the strength of, well, a large beam of plasma.

Maxwell watched as a massive barrier was formed above and as the stars impacted the barrier they exploded in different colours from red to blue. She then heard the strange figure introduce herself as Chuza, and she would not let her destroy what little the people of Grand Gaia has and the people here that were friends in a sense.

Was it friendship? Or sympathy for the mortals of the world? Regardless everyone has their own reasons to fight, even against all odds. Their bravery was admirable, in a foolish sort of way. Their power seemed to hold against her powers but she needed to know one thing, did they posses the strength to beat a God?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she smelled plasma forming in the air, she looked at the source and saw a cube like person with his arm cannon aimed right at her. She raised her spear in defence as the beam of plasma fired. The beam struck her speak however once she finished gauging she looked as her hand and noticed it had been burned a bit for the plasma residue. "Is this all you have to offer? Especially you Hero of Agni. I hate to inform you that the other five heroes from the war have already long since left this plane of existence during your absence. Perhaps this is all you posses? Maybe you truly were weaker than that father of yours. And to think you wanted to one day surpass him." Maxwell then pointed at the group still unamused.

Vargas looked liked he was fuming with rage, after hearing what that God he was pissed off and angry. "What did you say!? Oh that is it! I am going to end your existance to avenge them then!" Vargas shouted as he began to focus an immense amount of power, a shocking amount of power that saw Maxwell step back a bit, with a small smile on her face.

Of course she was not going to stand idly by and do nothing, she raised her hand forward and unleashed a constant wave of energy which would constantly sap their life force.

Chuza stood there watching this play unfold before her, watching as Maxwell played upon the emotions of Vargas. Whether it was true or not, she did not know, but it was clear she had some plan in inciting his fury. Perhaps it was a ploy to let his emotions make him sloppy, how fiendish if that was the case, but not strategically unsound at the same time. No, she thinks chastising herself, it is still wrong.

Soon she started to feel strange, as if something were being taken from her. She did not possess a life force like any normal creature, but she is composed entirely of some form of it. The spell thus has a far more visual impact as strands of her very being begin to shed off from her, like she were slowly unraveling. She held out her hands, sifting the threads through her fingers, vision blurring as it took her a moment to grasp it. With a gasp she tugs at her ghostly threads and begins to wrap it into a soft blue ball of wispy light, tendrils of thread flowing off from it growing more unstable the longer it went on.

"Stop this, Creator Maxwell, this path will bring nothing good for any of us," she pleads, hugging tightly onto the yarn ball formed of her life threads. She was once again given no other choice than to act, she crouched down, the space below her warping downwards creating a bowl within space itself before letting the built up pressure launching herself at such velocity that her body now resembling a living comet along with the tail. As she grows close, she suddenly stops, a halo-like ring ripples through space from her creating a strange hollow ringing sound in the air, and she thrusts the wisp ball at Maxwell causing it to implode, violently causing a chain reaction that crashes the warped space outward against her creating a loud otherworldly groan as the dimensional fabric was placed under strain.

Chuza would not excape unfazed by this desperate act either, the gateway in her chest cracking at the edges as the threads were violently ripped from her, an ominous light now bleeding from the fissures causing her to wince. She felt for the first time a true physical sensation of pain, but instead of fear, she only smiles.

"Strange, I always imagined I would be hollow inside..."

The Chosen Few couldn't formulate a perfect plan of attack against the Creator. It would be useless to go on the defense, because that would easily be made redundant by the God's attacks. Their full-on assault just scratched Maxwell, not doing as much damage as they hoped. However, as they say, if it bleeds, we can kill it.
Just as the group began to prepare another wave of attacks, something hit them. An ongoing wave of energy had just crashed into them, slowly but physically draining them of energy. The heroes looked at each other. Adam Skelecoot's eyeholes were occupied by two white lights which where flickering violently. It was specifically fatal for a corpse when their life force, or their soul, is sucked out of them. Any longer and Adam would just become another pile of bones.
Wrinkles were forming on the other heroes, Fancy beginning to crinkle like a used tissue. Mortals have a limited supply of anima which slowly drains from them as they grow older. Having that life force drain from them even faster by an anomalous entity speeds up the aging process by five-fold.
Their lives slowly fading away from them, they would watch pathetically as Chuza began to visually unravel like an old sock. Whatever this Owru was, it seemed to be made entirely of some form of life unlike the normal mortal anima. The woman would tug at the threads before they would float away, forming them into a yarn ball of undefinable life which she throws at the rogue Creator. Hopefully the attack would be strong enough to disrupt the spell and prevent the Chosen Ones from dying.

Vargas look pained as his life force was starting to drain from his body, however he was too angry and determined to let this affect him. Elyzia and Valfiel used their scythes as supports as they were far less used to facing a Gods power. It was clear that they would last last long with this continued assault.

Maxwell stopped her attack however as she defended against the wisp ball. She watched as the dimensional frabric warped and knew something like that could possibly harm her. Raissing her spear he formed a magical barrier which defended against the brunt of the assault but still managed to harm her a bit.

However a soon as the ball of wisp cleared Vargas charged forward now bristling with energy. "Everyone charge at once! Ready your strongest attacks! Because this God is going down!" He yelled filling everyone with some supplementary energy to replace the energy they had just lost.

Elyzia and Valfiel both took a deep breath and together they focused their energy together to prepare their strongest attack and followed right behind Vargas.

"Impressive...very impressive...I expected nothing less of a hero of the God wars. But do the rest of you have what it takes? Come then mortals, show me your strength." Maxwell pointed at them as he focused all her owner into her defence. Like Vargas said, certain Gods were not suited for certain things, Maxwell was not a physical combatant and was in a disadvantage. However her spells did indeed pack a punch. But with no new plan of attack she wanted to see what they can do. This was why she brought them here after all.

As she began to reweave the fissures left in her form, Chuza chuckled dryly to herself, she had harmed herself far more than she did to Maxwell, but was also shocked that she could even feel anything, let alone pain. It became clear she was not a warrior at heart, even now unable to find the conviction to truly bring harm to another. At least she had given them some reprieve from their torment, that matters more. Yet, around her, they are giving the heroes of this world give their all against one declared as a god, albeit fallen.

Fallen.

Chuza raises her head as it dawns upon her, the meaning of that title.

"I can not imagine what is worse, to become an outcast to your own world, or to lose everything you held dear," she says to Maxwell, attempting at last to try understanding what motivations she may have. With a sigh, she places her white hands on her cracked chest, now bleeding a bluish ethereal smoke. "Until recently we could not even imagine pain, so um... thank you. is it strange to thank someone for that? Still, I will give my all for those mortals on Grand Gaia."

With this she holds out her black arms, her winglike flaps pulsing with a blue light, the aetheric energies within her bleeding off from her chest like tendrils of light. This time she was not aiming at Maxwell, her target was everyone else there, transfusing her own energy to replenish what was taken and more. This act only exasperated her wound, however.

"Or rather I should say, I will give them my all."

Yes, the spell had been broken. The Chosen Ones could feel their life force stabilizing, their strength returning to them and boosted from Vargas' battlecry. As one entity, they would rise like the vengance of man, brandishing their weapons. Max's robotic arm begins to bulge again, but this time it was increasing the strength of his punch. Adam's sword would begin to glow again, literally pulsating with the essence of Order that coursed within its steel blade. Fancy would reach into Jack's backpack and pull out a comically large sharpener, bigger than the backpack itself, and briefly sharpen his pencil before putting it back in. What they lacked in combat equipment, Toons made up for their knowledge of the infinite dimension of hammerspace. Whilst Fancy Pants was attending to his weapon, Jack would get out a bamboo cane which had a boater perched on its handle. He decided to put it on for tradition's sake.
Then they began to feel another sensation, this time not draining their energy, but replenishing it and boosting it. If their eyes would glow, they would, but the only visual effect of this was the recent wrinkles buffing out, the Chosen Ones looking more young than they had been. With this newly found vigour, the Chosen Few would sprint again at the God. This time, Adam attempted a rightward slash at Maxwell's right knee, Max would aim a metallic uppercut at her chin, Fancy would stab at her left elbow and Jack would run behind the God, leap up and slam his bamboo cane down on her cranium,

As Vargas charged at the God, his body was soon engulfed in flames as he took to the skies along with Elyzia and Valfiel. They too were now surrounded by dark energy since they had an affinity for darkness. "Ultimate move! Ignis! WEISER!" Vargas yelled as he brought his sword down.

"Finishing move! Deathdealing Strike!" Valfiel called out as she also Brought her scythe down which was now surrounded by an ominous glow.

"For everyone at home...Final move, Heartstopper..." Elyzia spoke calmly as she followed right behind her sister as her scythe also glowed.

The first three strikes slammed with so much power, along with Vargas's and Chuza's energy it was clear the God was not going to hold against the attack with her barrier and it soon shattered into small particles which invited a surprised expression on Maxwell's face. As soon as the others arrived she was too busy reeling from the magical backlash she had just received. The strike to her knee from Adam caused her to fall down on her good knee as the cut was now visible and looked bad, the uppercut from Max sent her reeling backwards, a strike from Fancy rendered her arm useless just like her knee, and finally Jack hit her from behind on the head causing her to black out momentarily before falling to the ground in a heap.

"Very...Impressive...but that is enough..." Maxwell spoke in pained gasps and warped out before Vargas struck the killing blow. She soon appeared standing but appeared dangerously wounded. "Allow me to speak...before you all go in for the kill..." She spoke holding her bleeding elbow.