Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Day One

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    Mortis
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    Day One

    Post by Mortis on Thu Aug 13, 2015 8:20 pm

    Time: Afternoon
    Date: August 12, 0006

    For the rest of the night, Mortis had been making his way along the highways, following their wide, winding paths out of the city, until pavement grew scarce and long grasses grew where sidewalks should have been. It was here that the Dark Judge turned away from the road and went along his own path, plant life wilting and turning a crunchy, rotted brown in his wake. Rife with maggots and worms, it was not too hard to follow Judge Mortis should anyone have decided to trail him on the way out.

    However, the Judge knew that no one was following him, and no one would follow him. Other than the flutter of tiny hearts, those of small rodents and birds that were native to the area, Mortis sensed no other higher forms of thought like himself. No people, no sinners to plague him as he went upon his pilgrimage. Soon enough the sun had begun to rise, and the Dark Judge could see clearly that his walk had taken him deep into the grasslands, the tall grasses reaching well up to his knees as he kept steadily moving onward. Though with each step forward, the ghoul could not help but start to feel a manner of itch.

    Not the kind that denoted irritation, but more as a means of knowing something was missing.

    There was no idle noise of his brother's thoughts, no indication of goings-on or otherwise, no conversations or schemes that every so often had echoed across the ether to his own mind. It was silent, deafeningly so, and every so often he could not help but glance back at that barrier he had put in place. A solid mental wall between himself and Judge Fear, it was unwavering, thick. Nothing could pass through it unless he deemed it so, either from his own side of the line or his brother's. A few minutes, perhaps a half an hour was familiar to go without their connection willingly, and unwillingly Mortis had dealt with it well enough during their time spent in the thorn forest. To be distanced, whether it be their choice or not, was not unheard of or unfamiliar, but all the same he could not help but keep glancing back at it every so often. An hour perhaps, it certainly felt like an hour.

    Why?

    He knew the reason for his distance. He had told Fear that his leave would be only for two weeks, what was a mere fourteen days to the many centuries they had been together? Fourteen days to himself, to Fear's own self. Fourteen days to clear his head, to put things in their place and trim out what did not belong. For the sake of the law, their goals, their well being, he would gladly place distance between themselves. He would spare Fear from his own turmoil as he went through his reform, and he in turn would be spared from the dreadful humanity that trickled and seeped over their link and into Mortis' own psyche. In the end it really was a win-win... Even if it did not feel like it right now.

    Admittedly, it was tempting to peel away the barrier, to take back what he had said in order to rejoin with Fear again. Too tempting, he began to think. What good would his leave be if he were to just give up on it before he had even taken the first step? He would be no better than the sinners he purged; weak, spineless, undisciplined. It was the very reason he had decided to seek distance in the first place. Did he want to become like them again, prone to breaking their oaths and regulations for the sake of a base desire, some petty want that held no place in their systems? It was the mindset of a sinner, he reminded himself. It was a mindset that held no place within a Judge's duties. Yet... He could still feel a longing to peel that barrier away and remove that distance.

    The trickle over could not be that bad, could it? After all, the Dark Judge had been able to keep committing to his purges despite those more human feelings. He could still function, perhaps not at his best, but he could still work and make rational decisions.

    But they were not his own feelings, were they? That trickle over was also a side-effect, a symptom of his brother's time spent with the green sinner, Kev. While the alien was not regarded as a Mrs. Gunderson by any means, what occurred between them could be considered any better than the same stint Death had pulled either. In fact, by all accounts it could be considered worse. Not only was that sinner going to be purged by his own demands, but Fear managed to grow closer to him than Death had to that old woman. Fear had not made an attempt on Kev's life, he had not held him hostage in order to get back at a nemesis like Death had done. On the flip side, Death had not treated Mrs. Gunderson to tea and biscuits, he did not visit her home for the sake of a chat, or to help with the animals (if Gunderson even had any), he did not cuddle, and he certainly had not made any in-jokes about their relationship.

    Or about which one was dominant or which one was submissive.

    "Sssss...", a clawed hand raised to the side of his head, giving it an idle scratch as he pondered on. Could Fear be worse than Death in this regard? Certainly he had not intended this to happen, but at the same time he was not working towards remedying it either. This was the reason the block was in place, he told himself. This had to be the reason he required distance. Regardless of whether this all was an prolonged act for the sake of their plans or genuine, he needed to keep from falling to the same fate Fear now was in.

    If he grew too human, he would not be able to purge.

    If he grew too soft, he would become a liability. He would be a target that the people of this world would love to sink their waiting fangs into.

    People like Cailia. People like Bloodscream. People like the Lord of Terror. As much as he hated that damned euphemism, he would be like a lamb to slaughter, and the only person to blame would be himself. Sinners did not ask question for the sheer sake of curiosity, they did not wonder just for the sake of wanting to know the answer. There was a reason behind all of it, all of Hallow's questions likely were only for the sake of trying to find a weak point, something to exploit and lay a dagger's edge into. He cursed himself for only figuring it out now, instead of back before. Had he not been so conflicted, had he not been effected by Fear's bargain, none of this would have come to pass as it had. What sort of relationship went on between Mortis and his brothers, how they saw Death... It was all a ruse to figure how to turn each other against one another. That had to be the true reason, it was the only reason that made any possible sense.

    It was being in containment and interrogated for the sake of research all over again. It was just like it, and they both had fallen for it. Should Fire and Death arrive and they hear what they have from the wench or Kev, it would prevent them from working together, it would sow the seeds of discord between the four of them and they would not be able to work as one.

    All because of sympathy. Because of this damned humanity that developed.

    Mortis' strides quickened, now storming across the fields of waving grass as he pressed onward. The city by now was but a dwarf grouping of hard shapes in the distance, steadily growing smaller as it sank over the horizon. his chilling presence no longer was limited to where he stepped, but now started to wither all life within a ten-foot radius. Weeds and tall grasses wilted and rotted to a blackish brown, and animal life quickly fled from his path long before he approached them. Should he keep more of a low profile? Perhaps, if only to ensure his travels were solitary and just that. Both Cailia and the Mercenary were restricted to the city so far as he knew, their respective territories stifled from the vast expanse of the rest of the continent. They would not follow, but perhaps someone or something else. However, it was all just too irritating, the amount of weakness he had shown.

    Fear may have considered it a means of dealing with the populace, their jobs rendered meaningless upon this dimension. But, that still did not keep them from going through with their purges, with their plans. They both knew Kev had slipped up and spilled part of it to a demon, someone that worked with both the mercenary and Cailia. Most likely any and all 'conversations' that occurred between them and her were for the sake of attaining the upper hand.

    The amount of complacency, that willingness to entertain these sinners, would be their downfall he knew. It was only a matter of time.

    At once he decided the barrier looked just fine where it was...
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    Re: Day One

    Post by Mortis on Thu Aug 13, 2015 10:42 pm

    Time: 6:00 PM

    Faded fence posts and chicken wire started to replace the sweeping, wide fields of wild grasses by the time the sun started to hang low in the sky. Rows upon rows of evenly spaced produce stretched on in their clearly defined spaces that stretched for acres. Golden grain, green roughage, and tall cornstalks as far as the eye could see stretched out before him, as Mortis neared one of the property boundaries. A faded, rotten wood fence with a sign nailed to it, made him take pause for a brief moment, in order to read the sun-bleached lettering painted upon it in bold.

    PRIVATE PROPERTY

    TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT

    Shot, hm? It would be nothing Mortis had not dealt with before.

    he stepped over the fence with ease, his aura following him as he made his way across the grain field. Golden stalks withered and wilted over, turning from their radiant color to a dry, brittle brown. Fertile earth was made rancid and overwhelmed with maggots, which sprouted thick and writhing from the ground in the passing Dark Judge's footsteps. Reaching out mentally, it was apparent that the owners of this farm had were no longer working in the field, equipment nowhere to be seen. Not that he minded, the ghoul was far more preoccupied with other matters to worry about seeking out the owners of this particular field.

    It had been hours since Mortis had last been in contact with Fear, the silence that hung like a weight within his mind, while no longer a stifling sensation, had turned to static. It scratched at the inside of his head, nagged at him like a hunger. Despite his earlier displeasure and reasoning, once again it seemed all that more tempting to lower the barrier again. His thoughts turned towards the block, running over its surface ponderously, pressing at its edges.

    You can't.

    Of course, he could not. Removing it entirely would hamper the purpose of this trek. Still, perhaps he could get away with tugging a little at the edges... Maybe he could pry it, curl a corner aside just for a small moment to see if Fear was still there. To see how he was doing.

    You are being weak.

    What was weak about checking on his brother? He likely would have the same problem keeping away should he going through the same thing. Fear probably was feeling the same way he was right now! It was not weak to make sure one their brothers was doing alright, to make sure they were feeling fine. Fear had done the same thing during those few evenings in the Sanctuary, he made sure Mortis was feeling alright when he thought something might be off.

    You were acting like a liability.

    He paused in his tracks, the surrounding grain withering down to the ground and turning a rotten black as a new swarm of maggots made their way out of the soil. Mortis had been acting like a liability, hadn't he... He had been acting weak, unstable. Of course Fear would look into it. He needed him for their plan to succeed, he could not accomplish it alone. They were only two, so long as he was acting strange, acting weak, Fear may as well be only a single Judge upon this accursed planet, this hellish dimension. Mortis probably looked like a ticking time-bomb to him, liable to explode or implode at any moment.

    All because of these... feelings. This attraction and his pathetic attempts to silence it.

    If he reestablished their connection, Fear would be stuck with a liability again, he would be stuck with his weakness. Mortis in turn would be stuck with Fear's growing feelings of humanity, his growing corruption. One of them had to balance out the other. One of them had to act as a buffer, an aura of unbiased reason and cold logic. It was already clear who could provide this and who could not. Fear already had chosen where he was going, his bargain with Kev was set in stone.

    Mortis, however... He could choose. He had been that buffer before, he had been that source of reason and intellect. It was only a matter of getting it back. What was two weeks of silence for an eternity of lasting improvement?

    His mind released its hold on the edge of the barrier, focusing upon the path ahead. He still had a away to go before he reached his goal. Simpering and grasping for that connection like an addict would get him nowhere. Mortis' talons curled as he stepped forward, maggots squirming and falling from his toes as he resumed his stride. He had to keep moving. Meanwhile, the sun started to sink ever lower on the horizon, evening beginning to set in across the miles of farmland.
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    Mortis
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    Re: Day One

    Post by Mortis on Fri Aug 14, 2015 1:20 am

    Time: 9:00 PM

    By the time the sun had started to set, Mortis had made his across the grain field and into another, stepping over the fence and making his way through the shallow line of trees that separated the two fields. Behind him, his path was apparent, a thick, blackened trail of rot that spread into the trees and forced them to shed their bark, the wood beneath turning a pale, sickly white before taking on deep greens and blacks. Within a few days, their affliction would spread and they would topple, Mortis predicted as he waded through the waving golden field. With how the sun was setting, the grain took on an orange color as they waved about in the breeze. It was nearly reminiscent of fire, now that he thought about it.

    Fire...

    He had gone nearly two years without seeing nary a flicker of his ever-burning brother. For a moment Mortis could not help but wonder if the Judge had managed to wind up in another dimension, if he was so lucky as to wind up anywhere at all. The resident deity was rather finicky about who he brought to this world... Yet, there was always a possibility that he would arrive, in one way or another. At least he hoped that would be the case. Breifly the thought of Fire being consumed by an ever hungering deity, one of thousands, millions that had perished in his path sprung to mind. Perhaps with Death, perhaps alone, engulfed in flames far hotter than any he could produced, and reduced to nothing but blackened bone and cinders. It was chilling, the possibility that he had escaped such a fate by sheer luck, that he was brought to this dimension with Fear out of sheer chance and luck of the draw alone. It was even more-so to think that possibly Fire had not managed to survive for the same reason. The Death had not survived for that reason.

    They were damned here by the will of a fickle deity and its task-master. Only half of their whole, with no way of knowing what had befallen their other two brothers, or even the sisters. Had this Alpha made it to Deadworld as well? Had he wiped away their home, along with Nausea and Phobia, as well as the Mega-City? What if all four were in another dimension, separated and equally unsure if the other existed? Perhaps they thought he and Fear to be destroyed, and already were making replacements for them. It would be only logical to do. To adapt, to fill in the gaps in order to do what they needed to do.

    As depressing as that thought was, it made more sense than the two of them trying to do the same amount of work as four. Far more sense than what they were doing, with Fear cuddling up with an alien, and himself becoming conflicted due to the emotional runoff. He sighed, glancing down at the wheat stalks and watching them wither before him. How would they look, if Fire or Death managed to arrive right now? How pathetic would they seem, disorganized, worthless?

    Who would not want to replace them?

    Who would not see them as worthless, disorganized, broken by this dimension's infuriating rules and systems... It would be all too right, all too foreseen, that they be replaced.

    What if Fear decides to replace you too?

    It was a thought that Mortis did not dare entertain, Fear would never replace him, they were loyal to each other, brothers bound by oath and death. Fear needed him, this he knew, he valued what he did, he valued his insight and intelligence. They had worked together for centuries, purging side by side, working to further Death's goals. They worked together here, they helped each other with their plans and goals. He would not dare think to replace him!

    ...Would he?

    Another distressed hiss, and the ghoul turned his gaze back to the fiery skyline. It was not too far fetched to consider, he had been blocking himself off from Fear more and more lately. He had grown hard to read, hard to discern exactly what he was thinking. It was everything that went against Fear's own, open and honest, mental state. Everything he had done, everything he had built to keep locked away from Fear for his own good, had only managed to make the perfect settings to tear a rift between them. Had he not possessed these feelings, he would not need to hide them, to suppress them. His brother likely does not trust him anymore, not after he had done what he did two days ago in the Sanctuary, and after his decided silence for two weeks... It would not be surprising should his brother deign him to be unfit for duty.

    The man was zealous, but he was smart. Not on par with Death, but enough so that he trusted him to do what he needed to in order to get the job done. Even if that meant having to do the unthinkable. Lately, Mortis was beginning to figure that would inevitably come to pass, from how often he had to leave his brother in the dark, having to leave him to question things...

    For the best, he kept telling himself. For the best.

    Just as it would be for the best if Fear had decided to replace him, no matter how much agony it would leave him in, it would be for the best.
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    Re: Day One

    Post by Mortis on Fri Aug 14, 2015 5:01 am

    Time: 11:00 PM

    Perhaps it would be best if he reestablished the link, to speak with his brother a little more before he finally cut it away for the rest of his leave? Maybe he did not say everything he needed to, maybe Fear did not think of him as a liability that needed to be replaced, as Mortis kept pondering. It was too long, maybe, too long to go without Fear's presence.

    Too long for Fear to go without his own presence. Too long for him to be left wondering about what was going on with himself, with Mortis. If he was so quick to blame himself for nearly throwing a wrench into his plans, how long would it be until Fear thought he was to blame for his leave? It was silly, he told himself, Fear would never blame himself for Mortis' own incompetence. That was his own burden to bear, his own set of flaws that he needed to grind away and clean.

    He would keep going, he would continue to do their duties. It was Mortis who needed to take his leave, to fix himself. That spoke far more volumes than anything Fear had done upon this planet. He had sacrificed so much, he had bargained, worked with the flow of this world in order to achieve their goals. What had he done? What had Mortis ever set out to do that aided anything? Read? Go out on an expedition through a thorny vale to kill some big-headed Queen? He had done nothing of value in the greater scheme of things, he had not done anything of value, only purging. Mindless labor that any grunt could do. He had only done as he did when Death had been leader, nay, less than that. He had kept to the shadows, hiding away from his own weakness while Fear had been off doing what mattered. What had been best for this world, for the both of them.

    Mortis had been useless from the start. No amount of deaths, no amount of city blocks swept of life could change this fact. Not when they all only came back but a few days later, a week.

    What good was he?

    "What good am I..." He hissed to himself, echoing his thoughts to the passing breeze.

    With the sun withdrawn from the horizon, the local residences started to turn on their lights for the evening. Though far and few between, were clear against the darkened earth. Their own little set of stars, if one wished to call them that. One such vibrant glow was steadily drawing closer and closer ahead with each step across the field. By now he had managed to traverse the entirety of the second wheat field and into another, this one planted with weeds for tilling over at the end of the month. They too withered beneath his aura, quietly crumpling to the ground with a dry sigh. His sockets fixed upon the single level dwelling, his claws curled and his pace quickened once more.

    Life. A distraction.

    Perhaps he would feel better after a purge, he thought. Perhaps all he needed was to feel flesh rotting beneath his talons, bones withering to dust beneath his very presence. The sounds of their screams already filled his head, like a familiar, appetizing aroma, as did the vision of their bodies and faces rapidly decaying away to reveal bone, and then, to dust. his pace quickened, no longer walking but running towards the farmstead. He could taste their final breaths already, hear their pleas for a mercy that would so swiftly come to them.

    Ten acres were traversed as if they were ten yards. He could easily see a truck in the driveway, a kennel for a dog just outside. He could feel the presence of life within that structure, three of them. In a flash he was at the back of the building, refusing to slow even as it seemed he would collide with the outside wall.

    He did not bother to even use the back door.

    CRAASSSH!

    In went the dining room window, the Dark Judge having leaped and burst through it feet first. With wild abandon the Judge rose to his full, terrifying height, claws curled eagerly as he glanced swiftly about the room. How quaint, he had broke in on a small get together of friends. All three of them, men in their twenties,  perhaps nearing their thirties, were gathered around a table, cards spread out before them in what appeared to be a rather fun game of poker. Amusing, he thought, for while they all held onto their cards, still frozen in shock at the towering undead, sheep-skull headed man that had just burst in through their window, it was Mortis who held the winning hand.

    Both of them.

    "SSSCREAM FOR ME!" He roared, swiftly descending upon the trio. The first, a man in a blue t-shirt and equally blue pants, soon found his chest carved out with swipe of Mortis' talons. His last sounds came in a pained gurgle, while the other two fell out of their seats in an effort to scramble away. Blood now coating his uniform, the Dark Judge turned to give chase to the other two, his tail snapping like a whip behind him as a loud, shrieking laugh erupted from his throat. "YESSS, RUN SSSINNERSSS! RUN FOR ALL THE GOOD IT WILL DO YOU!" He would find them, he would sentence them, he would bring them to justice-?

    Pwoof!

    Code. The man that had been bleeding out but a breath before, his lungs hanging out of his chest cavity, had turned to code. Immediately a loud, enraged hiss escaped him, his skull fixated on the bloody chair that a would-be corpse had sat in but moments before.

    No... It could not be!

    He had only sent another into innocence to merely come back a week later? What good would it be if he just came back?! What good would it be for their goal!? With an frustrated cry, he ripped the flimsy seat from the floor and dashed it against the wall, shattering plaster and plywood as the chair's form splintered and exploded apart from the force. Soon after, the Judge's attention turned to just outside, the muffled sound of a vehicle laboring in attempting to start up reaching him. They would not escape, he firmly commanded himself, lunging for the front window.

    Another spray of broken glass and splintered wood, and the Judge was out front, crouched low in his landing with his tail snapping behind him. Lo, there were the two remaining farmers, inside the truck and trying to start it so they could escape. Surely one of those two had to remain after being purged, one of them had to decide this life was not worth living. In a few, long strides, Mortis was at the driver's side door, his hand reaching back before slamming itself into the door with a thunder of snapping titanium.

    SSRUNCH!

    There was a door here, it is gone now. The one in the driver's seat, looking near his thirties was well aware of that fact as the Dark Judge tossed aside the flimsy barrier with a flick of his bony arm. Yet, the man, while staring blankly at the seven-and-a-half foot corpse, still was turning the ignition key over, one hand gripping the wheel white-knuckled. The color of his attire did not matter, for the moment Mortis leaned in and snapped his hand around the man's clammy, sweat-covered neck, his skin turned a pestilent green and fell away from his bones as dust. At the sickening smell of decaying flesh burning his nostrils, the other soon kicked open the passenger side door and scrambled out. Mortis' jaw hung open in another hiss, his tongue curling to swipe over his top row of molars.

    Pwoof!

    "SSSSS!" Code filled his vision, bright cyan and blue exploding into his face and forcing him to reel back out of the truck. With a hollow thump, he fell back onto the gravel driveway, continuing to hiss irritably as he sat up, staring down at his talons. This one too? No, it could not be. What good was he if he could not fulfill his task? What good would he be to this brother should they just keep coming back week after week? His mind swimming, half delusional and half overwhelmed by fear, Mortis desperately sought out where the third sinner had gone.

    The fields.

    Nearly leaping to his feet, the sheep-skull headed Judge gave chase. Over the truck he leaped, and uprooted the face with a slash of his claws and a spray of dirt. This last one was young, athletic, he managed to make it well out into the fields by the time Mortis caught up with him. His long strides outpaced the farmer's own frantic sprint, and he was soon upon him, his chilling aura making the man's blood run cold and his heart race to the point where it seemed it would burst out of his chest. "REJOICE, SSSINNER!" He crowed, tackling the farmer to the ground, sinking his claws into the farmer's ribs and his teeth into his neck. They rolled as they hit the ground, both fighting for the upper hand, his victim's breath ragged and strained as he fought to catch his breath and fend off his attacker.

    All for naught, sadly, as the man found himself with his back planted firmly in the weeds with a towering, living corpse straddling his middle and pinning his shoulders to the ground. Through the haze of adrenaline he swore that he could see something glowing within those dark, empty sockets. Something evil, something unnatural. "Relax, ssssinner!" The Judge hissed, voice shaking as he fought to keep it level and failing. "Sssurrender to judgement!" Not that the man had any choice or time to say otherwise, for he too soon rotted right before the Judge's eyes. His claws punched into his chest, holding him by the heart as he rotted from the inside out.

    This one had to stay, this one had to remain a corpse, this one had to-

    Pwoof!

    "....No." He whispered, watching the cloud of 1's and 0's slip between his fingers and fade into the night. This one faded too, this one turned to code like the others. He failed. "What good am I..." He hissed, voice shaking as his talons balled into fists. "What g-good am I...?" His fists uncurled and pressed into the earth, digging into the corpse juices left behind. The ground around them started to fester and turn a rancid black, maggots writhing just beneath the surface and breaching out into the cool summer air.

    "WHAT GOOD AM I?!" He screamed, sinking his talons into the earth further, rotting it to a useless, infertile dust. "I AM USSELESS!" His cries echoed out into the night air, heard by none but himself. Pain wracked him, body and soul, and Mortis fell over onto the field, his claws ripping out of the now cursed soil.

    "Ussselesss..." He sobbed, curling his limbs up around him. He had failed himself, he had failed his brother, he had let himself grow weak. What use was he, a broken, pathetic, creature. He deserved to be replaced, he deserved to be abandoned and left to rot. Useless...Useless...Over and over, until he could no longer find the strength to say it, only the will to lay there until the sun rose.




    End of Day One

      Current date/time is Tue Oct 17, 2017 9:17 am