Ermac (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
glowygreendeath) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-07-27 09:39 pm
glowygreendeath) wrote in thecapitol2015-07-27 09:39 pm
Entry tags:
Do constructs dream of magic sheep?
Who | Ermac and various 4th wall visitors, as well as anyone who wants to tag in
What | 4th wall event
Where | Dreamland!
When | Every night during the Dream Event
Warnings | Gore, violence, and possibly sad times. They're the dreams of a guy made from the souls of thousands of warriors who died in battle; what else were you expecting?
Day One
Ermac can be found waiting in the common area of the District 12 suites, watching the city below from out a window.
Day Two
Visitors will find themselves in one of Outworld's marketplaces, which is bustling with activity despite the intense heat. There are many strange beasts here, but keen-eyed visitors will spot some more convential fantasy races in the crowd as well. There even seem to be a few very beautiful elves in woodland garb, interacting freely with the rougher desert folk despite looking incredibly out of place. Even Ermac doesn't react to the additions to his world.
Day 3
Today there's a beautiful, serene garden. The trees are lush, the grass is soft and a perfect green, the flowers are vibrant and fragrant. Unseen birds can be heard singing in the trees, and there are beautiful koi swimming in a pond full of blooming lily pads. Ermac is sitting under one of the trees, taking advantage of the tranquility to just relax and clear his mind.
Day 4
He's on a train, hurtling toward District 12. He's been on it for quite some time, and he'll arrive at his destination soon, but he can't remember getting on. Does it matter? Probably not. He just watches the scenery fly by, bored but refusing to read the copy of Celebrus on the table in his car.
Day 5
This Arena feels like a joke. Water guns, fake weapons, glitter...there are even butterflies and rabbits running around the meadow. Ermac feels a little insulted.
Day 6
It's freezing, and the air reeks of blood, decay, and a cocktail of truly foul liquids. Old gore and blood are smeared on the stone walls and floor, and blood-stained hooks hang from chains bolted into the ceiling. Everything feels unstable, barely real. Pieces of dissected, mutilated cadavers are strewn across the floor and tables, leftovers from various mad experiments with the dead.
Experiments like him. He feels...wrong. New. Powerful. Overcrowded. He can hear a crowd speaking, screaming, all around him, but he can't see anyone else. He slides off the table, feeling his feet touch the ground for the first time. It all feels...alien. He tries to remember why he's there, but only calls up memories of his death. His many deaths. Over and over, visions of dying in battle, of deaths both instantaneous and agonizing, fast and drawn out, of watching his allies die, of being his dying allies. And the screams! The intensity of the screams makes him fall to his knees and hold his head in a futile attempt to silence them.
Day 7
The dreamscape keeps shifting, moving seamlessly from one war to the next. One minute it's in Edenia, with the last great Edenian warriors making one last stand against Outworld's overwhelming forces. The next, it's in Earthrealm, with Outworld soldiers and war beasts trampling the unprepared Special Forces and riot police in the downtown core of a truly unlucky city. Then, it turns to Outworld's civil war, with brother killing brother in the streets, soldiers breaking into civilian homes that were rumored to be harboring rebels or loyalist agents. The feel of all these wars is the same: there is blood, and it demands more blood. It always demands more blood.
What | 4th wall event
Where | Dreamland!
When | Every night during the Dream Event
Warnings | Gore, violence, and possibly sad times. They're the dreams of a guy made from the souls of thousands of warriors who died in battle; what else were you expecting?
Day One
Ermac can be found waiting in the common area of the District 12 suites, watching the city below from out a window.
Day Two
Visitors will find themselves in one of Outworld's marketplaces, which is bustling with activity despite the intense heat. There are many strange beasts here, but keen-eyed visitors will spot some more convential fantasy races in the crowd as well. There even seem to be a few very beautiful elves in woodland garb, interacting freely with the rougher desert folk despite looking incredibly out of place. Even Ermac doesn't react to the additions to his world.
Day 3
Today there's a beautiful, serene garden. The trees are lush, the grass is soft and a perfect green, the flowers are vibrant and fragrant. Unseen birds can be heard singing in the trees, and there are beautiful koi swimming in a pond full of blooming lily pads. Ermac is sitting under one of the trees, taking advantage of the tranquility to just relax and clear his mind.
Day 4
He's on a train, hurtling toward District 12. He's been on it for quite some time, and he'll arrive at his destination soon, but he can't remember getting on. Does it matter? Probably not. He just watches the scenery fly by, bored but refusing to read the copy of Celebrus on the table in his car.
Day 5
This Arena feels like a joke. Water guns, fake weapons, glitter...there are even butterflies and rabbits running around the meadow. Ermac feels a little insulted.
Day 6
It's freezing, and the air reeks of blood, decay, and a cocktail of truly foul liquids. Old gore and blood are smeared on the stone walls and floor, and blood-stained hooks hang from chains bolted into the ceiling. Everything feels unstable, barely real. Pieces of dissected, mutilated cadavers are strewn across the floor and tables, leftovers from various mad experiments with the dead.
Experiments like him. He feels...wrong. New. Powerful. Overcrowded. He can hear a crowd speaking, screaming, all around him, but he can't see anyone else. He slides off the table, feeling his feet touch the ground for the first time. It all feels...alien. He tries to remember why he's there, but only calls up memories of his death. His many deaths. Over and over, visions of dying in battle, of deaths both instantaneous and agonizing, fast and drawn out, of watching his allies die, of being his dying allies. And the screams! The intensity of the screams makes him fall to his knees and hold his head in a futile attempt to silence them.
Day 7
The dreamscape keeps shifting, moving seamlessly from one war to the next. One minute it's in Edenia, with the last great Edenian warriors making one last stand against Outworld's overwhelming forces. The next, it's in Earthrealm, with Outworld soldiers and war beasts trampling the unprepared Special Forces and riot police in the downtown core of a truly unlucky city. Then, it turns to Outworld's civil war, with brother killing brother in the streets, soldiers breaking into civilian homes that were rumored to be harboring rebels or loyalist agents. The feel of all these wars is the same: there is blood, and it demands more blood. It always demands more blood.
no subject
"Do you always float everywhere? Doesn't that take more concentration than walking? Are you going to eat some souls?"
no subject
The popularity of a tourist attraction depended on the kind of tourists you had, didn't it?
He smirks a little.
"Perhaps. It has been so long since we've fed."
Finding a suitable soul was easier said than done, unfortunately.
no subject
"If no one gets executed here now, then what do they do with it? The trees and the people coming here? Isn't this someone's property, wouldn't they want to keep everyone out?"
no subject
He frowns and shakes his head as if to clear it. That was then...or...was it the future? He had just awoken for the first time, so why could he remember things that hadn't happened? Or had they already happened?
"The Forest feeds itself, as it had before our Kahn made use of it."
He pauses again to listen. Something is crashing through the undergrowth, heading toward them. Most likely one of the guards too blinded by bloodlust to pay much attention to the trees; no animal living in the Forest would ever risk being so careless.
"We may have been followed. Stay close, but mind your footing."
no subject
Holding the hem of his robe, she nods and tries to keep up.
no subject
He can't help but sneer a little at the memory of her.
"A warrior, Koa'tal, challenged her, and won. His victory sparked a civil war, as there were some who still believed Mileena was the rightful Empress even after we learned that she was simply another construct rather than a true heir."
He almost felt ashamed of having been her servant for so long. He'd even tried advising her, tried to help her be a more effective ruler rather than an insane tyrant, because he'd believed that she had a right to rule.
"She had only recently been executed when I was brought to Panem, but many of her allies still live. We suspect that the war continues even now."
He remembers who he's talking to, and adds:
"She was executed by having flesh-eating insects forced down her throat, not by the Forest."
no subject
"Like the War of the Roses," she says, which she's aware may not make any sense at all to Ermac, but it puts things in a clearer perspective for her -- it's all politics, a war based on blood and throne claims, rather than one of invasion or independence or just for fun.
Wednesday clenches her hand in the leather of his robe, and cocks her head curiously. "If your Kahn passed the throne down to her, then he must have thought constructs should be in the line of succession. And if she's dead, then you would be next in line, unless there were others before you. Why don't you fight against Kodal for the crown?"
So many of the Outworld names are really difficult when she can't see them written out.
no subject
"We were created to serve Outworld and its Kahn, not rule it."
He can feel some of his souls actually considering the idea, whispering about the possibilities of ruling. He quashes their treasonous talk; as ambitious as a few rogue souls might be, ruling simply wasn't in his nature. It wasn't his purpose.
A snarl behind them catches his attention, and he turns to face the Tarkatan charging recklessly toward them. He smirks a little. Tarkatans had strong spirits to them, and their aggression was easy enough to channel into combat. He catches the guard in mid-pounce, holding him in mid-air with his telekinesis. The key to harvesting souls was to wrench the thing free from its mortal bonds, a task he'd always felt was best achieved with brutal violence.
Ermac twists his hands, twisting the Tarkatan's torso to the point that his vertebrae noisily crack under the strain. The guard's screams stop suddenly as his spine snaps in multiple locations, but Ermac keeps twisting. Muscle and sinew strain, stretch, and finally tear in a shower of blood and shattered bone as the guard is twisted in half. He reaches out the fleeing soul with his own spirits' energy and pulls it into himself.
no subject
She can't remember the last time she was so excited. Jumping up and down, she keeps hold of the hem of his robe, her braids bouncing and her face lit up with delight. "Do it again! Again!"
no subject
"Then we need to find another victim."
Whatever this was, a memory, some kind of twisted time travel incident, or some kind of dream, he was finding it to be...well, he wouldn't quite use the word 'fun,' but 'enjoyable' seemed appropriate. Wednesday's enthusiasm seemed to be infectious.