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The Blades Needed Machetes

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The Blades Needed Machetes Empty The Blades Needed Machetes

Post by Hayden Mon Sep 14, 2015 12:37 am

"Do-do-dododo," he sang. He rifled through a toppled file cabinet, in the back of an abandoned facility, in the middle of the woods, beyond the comprehensible good sense others would have to look. It wasn't an easy place to find, even for the knowing of where it was. Then again even as a Blade, Hayden never really traveled beyond these walls very often. He had left the building for long stints of time obviously, but to-and-from was usually very limited. And, it was via gummiship.

This place was discreet to be sure. The Union of Blades had been clever- Deep Jungle was one of the more remote worlds and very often went unnoticed by travelers. Aside from the apes, none ventured through this uncharted forest. Well, not any more. They hadn't for months. A little less than a year, the Union of Blades had been cleansed in his righteous crusade though to be clear it was no longer a crusade he pursued. That was a crusade for his loud, obnoxious other to carry out. Yes, the Seeker certainly hadn't been quiet in the week after they were born.

But, alas, now he lay silent. Hayden was only minorly perturbed upon reflecting by not knowing the motives and status of his other half, more as a threat to his own existence than out of concern. Yet he knew that the Heartless, if its convictions held firm, would not pursue somebody that it did not know existed. Even if it was aware of the Nobody's existence, what reason beyond mere curiosity would it have to find him? None. And that was the interesting bit. Heartless, for all their intelligence, were ultimately simple. A Nobody did not have that limitation.

Though, maybe this Nobody did. Hayden chuckled as he cased the ruined facility, stepping over rotten corpses whose decay had long since left the air stale and unpleasant. He did himself a favor and deigned to not breathe beyond anything more than a shallow heaving, not letting the rot-laden gas penetrate too deeply into his lungs. His eyes lay steeled, the rest of him obscured by the darkness, the underground structure illuminated only dimly by the damaged, faded lights. It cast shadows on the corpses and on the living body that waded through them. Though, perhaps 'living' was too kind a term.

What wasn't complete obscured by the odd shadows cast by the dying lights would be the color of the cloak he wore. Crimson red, like the suits of those around him. He was a Blade, after all. Former member or not, responsible for their untimely doom or not, he was still a trained knight, meant to protect all the worlds! He was made to be a weapon. A weapon is only beholden to its wielder, but what of a weapon that lie with no guiding hand? It must rust then, or else gain autonomy and rust later.

Time knew no mercy. It knew no sin. T'was that time was the sharpest blade of all and the most potent shield. Yet it was also a smiling grandmother, or a patient face with advice, or the most effective(if often slow) doctor one could afford. At the same time, it was entropy. The perpetual march that drove existence right to its doom. For many, Hayden was capable of being that doom. Heartless, or something more, time knew now sin. But weapons? Tools for damage and victory, for injury and destruction? They were forged for the spread of sin. They were forged within sin in the minds of their creators. Weapons were seldom viewed as art, and thus condemned to rust.

That made Hayden's return all the more curious to the uninitiated, yet upon closer inspection it could be easily justified. The only logical conclusion is that Hayden had evolved beyond a mere vessel of future tragedy, and into its harbinger. No longer was he the sword that craved direction, as the sword had become anthropomorphic. Hayden's hands grasp in the darkness and he found his salvation in birthing the very tools that he had been likened to. That was why he had returned with a new passion as tinder, rekindling an old and forgotten purpose.

Yet as he fumbled through records, and books, and journals he found little to assist him. Yet he was undeterred. Even empty handed, if he had journeyed this far he would have reclaimed part of his history and in doing so affirmed his own belief that the Union of Blades, for all the good it had done and all the good it had pretended to do in its final years, was inefficient and deserving of extinction. It was how he rationalized mass murder. After all, if none could stand up to one (admittedly powerful) man clad in darkness and harboring ill intent, then the Heartless they so vehemently despised would have had them far easier than they believed.

After some time, he gave up on his endeavor. With apparently all options exhausted, Hayden had no choice to conclude that the secrets of working Orichalcum still escaped him. It was... frustrating. Not infuriating, as he was confident that if he could not find the knowledge then others would not be able to as well. But what grated on him was the lack of certainty. Somebody figured out how to do it once. What made them so special? It could have been that at one time, Orichalcum was plentiful but if so, where did it come from?

He considered exploring Daybreak Town. It was an old town that had existed for time immemorial, since the Great Keyblade War was waged. He supposed from the beginning it would  have the information, but journeying there meant causing a commotion. After all, it was far easier to fail and alert the living than the dead. It was a trip he had hoped to avoid. He doubted he would just walk to a Keyblade Union and ask politely for their records. Stealing was always viable though, but stealing what? He'd have to spend a while casing the joint. Obviously they didn't have the information anyway. People would be pits deep in Keyblades if that were the case.

He sighed and began his long journey back to the entrance of the facility, moving listlessly down the decaying halls with a sort of liberated stride. With nothing to search for any more, he lacked the drive to be careful or observant.
Hayden
Hayden

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Post by Charlotte Mon Oct 26, 2015 7:06 pm

It had been some time, since Charlotte had been home.

...Well, to one of her homes. Born and raised in the city of bells, marvelous Paris. But, here, in the thick jungles of... ...Well, she wasn't just sure where... Here, had the Blades molded and shaped her, made her the woman she is, now. ...And here, had she seen that she was one of the few who actually towed the line. It didn't take her long to realize that she was one of the precious few Blades who still had virtue.

Although, as weak as she had been at the time, she had no way to actually bring this change about. She couldn't oppose the Blades Grandmasters; they'd suffer no revolution, and, she'd likely be put down. So, she knew. She knew that she had to vanish. Become strong. And return, to show them the error of their ways. And, after all this time, she'd finally done just that.

...What she could have never fathomed is that someone solved the problem for her. ...And, their solution was... Alarmingly final.

Charlotte walked the halls, which nature had already begin to take back. The bodies had decayed... Mummified, more like. ...But, there was no sign of any consumption. Not even insects. ...This couldn't've been a poison, though. Poisons don't rip heavy steel doors off their hinges, or literally bifurcate people. ...And, yet, it seems all but basic bacteria avoided this place like the plague. Her own senses were nowhere near what they'd need to be to pick up on any sort of residual energy. ...But, sites that were accursed tended to have little to no animal activity. ...It didn't make sense, though; what diabolical force could rip through the single most powerful Keyblade Union in the modern age?

...She realized two things as she waked the halls, carrying a makeshift torch.

One. Who or whatever tore through this base was powerful. Powerful beyond reason. A match for her, easily.

Two. Someone was in this ruined base with her. Apparently, she wasn't the only one with an interest in the Blades.

Looters? Fellow Keyblade Warriors? Or, perhaps, those with more nefarious goals?

She wandered this ruin, Keyblade in one hand, torch in the other. She was watching for everything around her, just to be certain she wouldn't be caught unawares.

"...Whoever you are, you had better hope you have a good reason to be here..."
Charlotte
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