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legionworld2016-03-21 09:25 am
got_gud) wrote in legionworld2016-03-21 09:25 am
Entry tags:
The stars are different here
Who| Alexander and anyone
What| A new arrival contemplates his choices and the strange new world he finds himself in
Where| Observation deck
When| N/A
Warnings/Notes| N/A
Little over an hour ago, if one had by chance wandered near the Med Bay, they might have heard one of several exasperated exchanges such as this:
"His vitals have completely flat-lined! We need to get him to the emergency room immediately!"
"Lass, listen, please, I am Undead. I do not have 'vitals', apparently. This is the fifth time this has happened since I have awoken here. Earlier one of your comrades tried to wheel me off to some 'morgue' while I lay unconscious. Please, just leave me be."
He could not entirely blame them, though. This realm was apparently fraught with many dangers, but the curse of Undeath was not among them. To them, he was as much an oddity as this world was to him.
After trying to explain his peculiar condition multiple times to a rather excitable if well meaning medical staff, it was then he met the man, R.J. Brand. The portly gentleman explained the situation to him, about the loss of so many warriors, and the need for more -- thus the impetus to recruit numerous beings like himself, pulled here from other worlds -- if they were to have any hope of protecting the realm long enough to find a way to send everyone home.
And so it was that Alexander of Astora, once Chosen Undead and now the so-called Dark Lord, found himself in the Observation Deck, staring out onto the shining world below and what, to him, seemed like an endless night sky. An oddly anachronistic sight, the tall figure wearing a simple arming doublet and other padding meant to be worn beneath ancient styles of plated armor. He had been told the rest of his arms and armor would be held in safe keeping for the moment. It kept him ill at ease though, as being unarmed for a warrior like him was as if he were wandering around completely naked.
He told Brand that he would think about the offer. Truthfully, the idea seemed strange to him. He did not feel comfortable taking the title of 'hero' for himself, even if it was a so-called tradition for this Legion. Even the thought of fighting alongside others like him, after wandering through the ruins of Lordran alone for so long, felt strange.
Even so, he thought to himself, if he still had strength and powers beyond that of mortal men, he felt compelled to use that strength in defense of the helpless. After all, the world could be cruel, at times the only comfort it offered was that which men like him had once fought hard to maintain.
He stood there, arms crossed, still staring out into the vast ocean of stars before him. He had much to think on.
What| A new arrival contemplates his choices and the strange new world he finds himself in
Where| Observation deck
When| N/A
Warnings/Notes| N/A
Little over an hour ago, if one had by chance wandered near the Med Bay, they might have heard one of several exasperated exchanges such as this:
"His vitals have completely flat-lined! We need to get him to the emergency room immediately!"
"Lass, listen, please, I am Undead. I do not have 'vitals', apparently. This is the fifth time this has happened since I have awoken here. Earlier one of your comrades tried to wheel me off to some 'morgue' while I lay unconscious. Please, just leave me be."
He could not entirely blame them, though. This realm was apparently fraught with many dangers, but the curse of Undeath was not among them. To them, he was as much an oddity as this world was to him.
After trying to explain his peculiar condition multiple times to a rather excitable if well meaning medical staff, it was then he met the man, R.J. Brand. The portly gentleman explained the situation to him, about the loss of so many warriors, and the need for more -- thus the impetus to recruit numerous beings like himself, pulled here from other worlds -- if they were to have any hope of protecting the realm long enough to find a way to send everyone home.
And so it was that Alexander of Astora, once Chosen Undead and now the so-called Dark Lord, found himself in the Observation Deck, staring out onto the shining world below and what, to him, seemed like an endless night sky. An oddly anachronistic sight, the tall figure wearing a simple arming doublet and other padding meant to be worn beneath ancient styles of plated armor. He had been told the rest of his arms and armor would be held in safe keeping for the moment. It kept him ill at ease though, as being unarmed for a warrior like him was as if he were wandering around completely naked.
He told Brand that he would think about the offer. Truthfully, the idea seemed strange to him. He did not feel comfortable taking the title of 'hero' for himself, even if it was a so-called tradition for this Legion. Even the thought of fighting alongside others like him, after wandering through the ruins of Lordran alone for so long, felt strange.
Even so, he thought to himself, if he still had strength and powers beyond that of mortal men, he felt compelled to use that strength in defense of the helpless. After all, the world could be cruel, at times the only comfort it offered was that which men like him had once fought hard to maintain.
He stood there, arms crossed, still staring out into the vast ocean of stars before him. He had much to think on.
no subject
He extended a hand in greetings.
"I am Alexander of Astora. I hope I do not frighten you too much, good sir."
no subject
"As long as it's not contagious, we're cool," he conceded. "But if you try to bite me or anything I'm gonna have to kick your ass."
He said it casually, as if he could really make good on the threat.
"I'm Grif. I'm from Earth. ...Not the one here, but another one that sucks more."
no subject
It was weird, to say the least.
"Earth. That is the name of that...world...down below, correct?" he asked wistfully. He briefly wondered if his own world looked similar from this distance.
"From what I have experienced here, I imagine it is a strange place. I have visited other realities before, but none so far removed from my own."
no subject
And how different what he was doing was. Not that he missed the army or anything, but...
"So this isn't totally new to you, huh? That's a first. And I talk to a lot of people."
Translation: he annoys a lot of people.
no subject
Although if it was, he'd win the crapsack world olympics.
"Most of the worlds I've visited were slightly altered versions of my own. This is the first that has been so radically different."
no subject
To him.
"So there are lots of worlds with no electricity and tons of dead people walking around? Sounds great."
From his tone, it was clear that did not sound great at all.
no subject
"I suppose that's one way to put it. Though the 'dead people' were mostly only in Lordran or locked away in the Undead Asylums."
Neither option was particularly fun.
"So, tell me, Grif, what do you make of this Legion business? I am still weighing my options."
no subject
"They're awfully... nice? And I think they're being honest with us. Mostly. It's weird."
no subject
"You don't think they're being entirely honest, then? Might they be withholding something from us, then?"
no subject
He looked out at the stars, and the curve of the Earth.
"I think the Legion's probably alright. They actually believe the boyscout helping the future be a better tomorrow thing." 'They', not 'we'. Grif might've agreed to the terms and got a shiny uniform, but he still wasn't quite thinking of himself as Legion yet.
"Brainiac's kind of a dick, but I'm not expecting candy and flowers from anybody. I'm just saying that I'm not used to nice and helpful important people and it's kinda weird. I guess I'm more worried about government people than... you know. All the ones here."
no subject
He sighed, relaxing somewhat.
"Though it is not as if I have never found myself in the company of jackals before. If I am betrayed, I can always deal with them as I have dealt with all the others."
From the sound of it, those situations typically never ended well for the 'jackals'. He certainly sounded confident enough at least, in a weird, reserved kind of way.
no subject
"It turns out that being really fast is awesome and all, I'm not complaining," he continued, definitely complaining, "but it's got kind of limited uses sometimes."
no subject
Although his preferred option was to carry around a giant, ridiculously huge shield and watch his opponents get exhausted trying to knock it out of the way. It could be amusing at times, in a morbid sort of way.
"But I must thank you. Your opinions on the subject are...refreshingly pragmatic. Most of the Legion staff I've spoken to brought up nothing but abstract ideals like duty and heroism, which are fine and all, but they never seemed to really critically analyze the situation."
He could get behind doing the right thing, he just wanted to be practical about it.
no subject
"Alright, I got some shit I gotta take care of," he admitted with no small reluctance. "I'll leave you the deck. Seeya, have fun stargazing."
He supposed that was kind of cool if you hadn't gotten to do it before.