Allen Walker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whiteblackknight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-03-30 10:55 pm
whiteblackknight) wrote in towerofanimus2013-03-30 10:55 pm
Entry tags:
Overture of Missing Innocence
Characters: Allen and open to all
Setting: Floor 13, Floor 27, March 31st
Format: All prose-y, at least to start with.
Summary: A very powerful monster anomalously appears and Allen manages to defeat it, at the cost of his superhuman arm. His attempt at resurrected it might prove to a be quite...unpleasant. If it doesn't outright kill him.
Warnings: Small amounts of blood and violence
--Floor 13, The Cathedral--
Twas a regular day of playing on the organ. And for a moment, it seemed almost a happy day--the sun was even out at the Cathedral. And unlike the earlier days' strange weather patterns, very little heat permeated from the radiating sun. It would've went out any second, Allen thought, but it was there for far longer. Or maybe it just felt that way. Then like *that*, it was over.
Sound does not carry well in the Cathedral. It was either the way the air was or, more likely, dark magic, but hearing something even across the aisle took some concentration. Being right next to someone was optimal, if you could hear them over the praying of invisible patrons. It was relaxing to Allen, if unnerving at times. But this day was different. And it was entirely subjective to Mr. Walker.
The cursed left eye of his awoke and turned into it's second form, a clear glass eye rimmed with a cog, and bathed the innards of the Cathedral in a black world. Sound returned. And so did the sight of ghastly creatures, wraith-like monsters that most certainly weren't there before. In his cursed eye's second form, these invisible freaks could even be detected. In this world, the praying voices were higher, more demented, and sounds in the room came to a logical normal. A heaving, bulky humanoid wearing a bronze metal suit dragged its bulky body towards Allen in a quite threatening manner, several red lights indicating that it was hungry to indulge in inflicting pain. A heavy drill whirred to life then with all the deadly intent that implies.
It was something that didn't quite belong in the daylight hours.
But if it was a fight it wanted, then a fight it would get. And it did.
Witnesses will see the last stage of the fight, as Allen's black arm has, in a last attempt, punctured through the drill of the ocean titan and out through where its head would be. The arm was crumbling from effort as it was pulled out and the giant toppled to the side. Mr. Walker himself is worse for the wear, as usual for a fight, but this time his arm was in even worse shape. It crumbled and wore away like it was made of parsley and several digits of the hand hand already fallen off. Allen just stared blankly at it. Composed. Almost apathetic to it.
"Mana..." he said as the room returned to the brisk light that it once was, sound returning to its normal all-time low.
--Floor 27, the Laboratory--
And this was the solution, or so he was told.
While Allen has never met anyone or anything that could replicate the effects of an Innocence weapon, there were ways to repair it. After hearing about the floor of technology and science, well, he made it his first priority. While wounded from his fight, they were fairly superficial and amounted to a few small scars and several bruises. A nice tea would fix those up in no time, provided another random super monster didn't attack. He'd be dead, anyway, as he is technically now unarmed. Literally.
Dozens of hi-tech trinkets lie around him. Twelve foot tall robot models stood, lifelessly, as Allen walked past them. These would not be getting up any time soon. He hoped.
Workbenches full of tools numbered well into the double digits and the boxes and closets full of machines were even more so in the other parts of the lab. Beakers sprung to life on all their own, concocting various potions and brews for unknown purposes. Or perhaps their technicians were simply out on break. That tended to happen. Except this time, Lenalee was not around to bring coffee. Allen could've used a little bit of the stuff right about now.
A bright flyer on the wall grabbed Allen's attention like a guillotine. It read, 'Attention--To Fix Broken Tools, Please Read the Following' as a bold white header on yellow backgrounds. Allen grasped at his deteriorating arm as he read it.
Setting: Floor 13, Floor 27, March 31st
Format: All prose-y, at least to start with.
Summary: A very powerful monster anomalously appears and Allen manages to defeat it, at the cost of his superhuman arm. His attempt at resurrected it might prove to a be quite...unpleasant. If it doesn't outright kill him.
Warnings: Small amounts of blood and violence
--Floor 13, The Cathedral--
Twas a regular day of playing on the organ. And for a moment, it seemed almost a happy day--the sun was even out at the Cathedral. And unlike the earlier days' strange weather patterns, very little heat permeated from the radiating sun. It would've went out any second, Allen thought, but it was there for far longer. Or maybe it just felt that way. Then like *that*, it was over.
Sound does not carry well in the Cathedral. It was either the way the air was or, more likely, dark magic, but hearing something even across the aisle took some concentration. Being right next to someone was optimal, if you could hear them over the praying of invisible patrons. It was relaxing to Allen, if unnerving at times. But this day was different. And it was entirely subjective to Mr. Walker.
The cursed left eye of his awoke and turned into it's second form, a clear glass eye rimmed with a cog, and bathed the innards of the Cathedral in a black world. Sound returned. And so did the sight of ghastly creatures, wraith-like monsters that most certainly weren't there before. In his cursed eye's second form, these invisible freaks could even be detected. In this world, the praying voices were higher, more demented, and sounds in the room came to a logical normal. A heaving, bulky humanoid wearing a bronze metal suit dragged its bulky body towards Allen in a quite threatening manner, several red lights indicating that it was hungry to indulge in inflicting pain. A heavy drill whirred to life then with all the deadly intent that implies.
It was something that didn't quite belong in the daylight hours.
But if it was a fight it wanted, then a fight it would get. And it did.
Witnesses will see the last stage of the fight, as Allen's black arm has, in a last attempt, punctured through the drill of the ocean titan and out through where its head would be. The arm was crumbling from effort as it was pulled out and the giant toppled to the side. Mr. Walker himself is worse for the wear, as usual for a fight, but this time his arm was in even worse shape. It crumbled and wore away like it was made of parsley and several digits of the hand hand already fallen off. Allen just stared blankly at it. Composed. Almost apathetic to it.
"Mana..." he said as the room returned to the brisk light that it once was, sound returning to its normal all-time low.
--Floor 27, the Laboratory--
And this was the solution, or so he was told.
While Allen has never met anyone or anything that could replicate the effects of an Innocence weapon, there were ways to repair it. After hearing about the floor of technology and science, well, he made it his first priority. While wounded from his fight, they were fairly superficial and amounted to a few small scars and several bruises. A nice tea would fix those up in no time, provided another random super monster didn't attack. He'd be dead, anyway, as he is technically now unarmed. Literally.
Dozens of hi-tech trinkets lie around him. Twelve foot tall robot models stood, lifelessly, as Allen walked past them. These would not be getting up any time soon. He hoped.
Workbenches full of tools numbered well into the double digits and the boxes and closets full of machines were even more so in the other parts of the lab. Beakers sprung to life on all their own, concocting various potions and brews for unknown purposes. Or perhaps their technicians were simply out on break. That tended to happen. Except this time, Lenalee was not around to bring coffee. Allen could've used a little bit of the stuff right about now.
A bright flyer on the wall grabbed Allen's attention like a guillotine. It read, 'Attention--To Fix Broken Tools, Please Read the Following' as a bold white header on yellow backgrounds. Allen grasped at his deteriorating arm as he read it.