View source for 4096/The Dark of Gold

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/05/11
|Location=Slum Urbania
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia meets her first Multiverse victim and prepares for WAR. Post 'Under Black Flags We March'.
|Thanks=Golden
|Cast of Characters=975, 782
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:'''<br>Imagine every potential world stitched together; It's the multiverse, after all, that shouldn't be too difficult. High tech, low tech, magical, medieval, all of them just shoved into one another like some mad creator decided to play 'will it blend' with entire universes. Now imagine the poor, the destitute, the unruly and ungodly and unwelcomed of all those worlds being tipped into one giant sprawl. The absolute, dead last of all creation ever made shoved shoulder to shoulder with one another - and set loose. Is it any wonder that the skyscrapers have been knitted together, like a basket weave from hell, to contain the sprawl?<br><br>And in the midst of this place of miserable lights winking out for a few creds, a half eaten sandwich or just because they looked at another person wrong is - a band. A METAL band, from the Brutal Lands, which means it blends seamlessly the words 'band' and 'invading army'.<br><br>Undead roam the little corner of dark paradise carved out by the freaks, shadows and ghouls and zombies and worse. The streets occasionally punctuated by the mad screaming gallop of skeletal reapers on spectral bone horses, roaming and scything at will, the skies darkened by the fall of Black Tears like ash. Storms clouds flicker and moan over head, pregnant with the eternal promise of torrential downfall. <br>The Drowning Doom takes its rest, and rebuilds its forces from the Slum.<br>And in the midst of it all, sprawled upon a bare limbed tree that seems to have pushed itself up from the very building top. Ravens circle lazily about one another above her as she reclines, clawed fingers quietly plucking a slow, languid tune from the Six Stringed Sorrow.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:782|Golden (782)}} has posed:'''<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Near the back of the bleak tree, in a cage of blades, sits a diminutive round form. No longer golden-colored, possessed of the corrosion or gouges in his metal parts, the digimon called Golden by many sits. The Black Tears have seeped into his code and digicore, quietly filling in the holes left by the apocalyptic battles against the souless DEX 'mon and the Royal Knights. Spaces formally filled in and kept operating by the Crest of Courage that he now lacks. The stuff is leaking from him like blood now, even though he hasn't moved or spoken since his capture and the ejection of the Crest.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There's a quiet sound from the cage as the silver-clad digimon stirs finally. "No more gods, no more kings..." he can be heard to mumble.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:'''<br>Clawing fingers pause their ceaseless thrumming, and the sound of Death Metal softens - but does not depart. Reverberating in the air of its own power as the black hearted bitch rolls her head to peer towards the cage. Prisoner; What a rare term. Usually those that don't accept her initial offer to drown themselves for power get to play her favorite game - bubbles. That is, she'll have them held under the blackened waters and count how many bubbles come out. Large or small, frail or hard, the Sea of Black Tears takes - and calls - for all comers.<br><br>She droops from the bared tree branches, floating serenly back to the ground as her guitar dissipates. The tree itself groaning as it twists, attached to the huge troll one floor down from the roof. The motion scatters the screaming ravens back to the ash strewn sky, even as Drowned Ophelia approaches the cage - letting her claws trail along the metal bars. Clink, clink, clink.<br><br>"Someone's hurt you a lot." She begins, that tight little smirk on her face. "It's not hard to see the holes left in you, where the tears flow deep inside. Feels good to let that hate out, doesn't it? So.." Here she pauses, clawed fingers curling around the cage bars. "... Who left you to die?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:782|Golden (782)}} has posed:'''<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The phrase repeats, louder. "No more gods, no more kings." <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;If Ophelia can sense the things the Black Tears are flowing into, then it is a deep betrayal that sits at the heart of the digimon. A broken faith in something bigger than himself. A deep psychic wound echoing the physical cracks and shards of Golden's digicore where a nemesis nearly killed him. The answer to Ophelia's question comes with a deep sigh.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"God and its emissaries. Wanted all of us to die. Nothing left but dust and echoes now." <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And then a smoulder of anger. "I'm going to kill them all." Golden's eyes open to reveal they've become red instead of the green they were before. "The angels, the Royal Knights, and Yggdrasil itself. Then... all the so-called Chosen digimon in the New Digital World. I'll teach them to despair."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:'''<br>"Kill the gods and topple their thrones?"<br>Muses the Queen of Tears, as she taps a clawed digit to her lip. That tight little smile flirting along the edge of her lips before she holds a palm up. "I like your style." She settles her back against the bars, sliding down until her rear end bumps to the hard roof top. Head tilting back as she watches the play of ashes in the air - the storm above finally breaking, the soft patter of inky rain striking the area - running in rivulets down Ophelia's face, joining the mass that curls and twists about her as clothing, armor, and weapon. "I've been there, you know. Trying to save people - save my world. Hurts when it turns out it just wasn't worth the effort, doesn't it?" She walks her claws upon the ground, tilting her head side. "But you know, you've just got to pull yourself together. Get a new angle on things. And then?" Eyes flick aside to the corrupted digimon in the cage. ".. Then bury them alive, and see how long it takes for the screaming to stop. You know, I'm still on tour - next stop tomorrow, in fact." She holds her clawed hands up once more, and flexes them open - the cage falling open as well, metal CLANGING to the roof top.<br>"You're welcome to come along. I mean, it can't -just- be the choosen responsible, can it? They've got a whole multiverse to tell them what they did to you was wrong.." A flash of white teeth. ".. and no one said anything."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:782|Golden (782)}} has posed:'''<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Golden climbs out slowly, not entirely used to being... whole after all these years. "They didn't see the death and destruction. They didn't hear the screams." The digimon growls as he hits the ground with a soft thump of his feet. Something clicks with the black tears suffusing Golden's body and the little thing starts unfolding in strange ways, much to the distress of electronics nearby as they go haywire. The digimon reforms as an eight-foot tall armored dragon-man, with armor black as night and wing-shields with the Drowning Doom's emblem on them. Reptilian eyes with gold irises regard Ophelia.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Yes... let's make them curse our names as we take our vengeance." intones a deeper and more sinister voice.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:'''<br>The distortion causes speakers and lights strung from roof to roof to squeal and die in a shower of sparks - not that it bothers the crowd of Tear Drinkers below, who raise their voices in delight at the destruction and lift their hands to the weeping heavens above. It's almost religious, to see how much these deathless freaks love their death metal - and in some regards, it's exactly that. Drowned Ophelia herself lifts an arm to casually cover her face when the digimon transforms into something bigger. Something.. BADDER. She laughs, spreading arms wide.<br>"Hate it when people forget the dead, don't you? Welcome to the Doom, then, uh-" She pauses, fingers curling inwards as she moues. Then tilts her head, pressing a claw to her cheek. "Hm. Got a name or.. do you prefer a new one?" Her own eyes peering upwards at the giant dragon man, eyes framed by the 'running mascara look' as the black tears flow from her eyes.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:782|Golden (782)}} has posed:'''<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The unscarred Black WarGreymon rumbles with laughter as the Tear Drinkers revel in the destruction, and glances at the massive clawed gauntlets on his hands. "Gourobei will do. And yours?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:'''<br>Drowned Ophelia says, "Gourobei? Hm."<br>The Queen of Tears plays with the name for a moment, emphasizing the 'Gore' part of it. Before she moves back towards the 'bare tree', quietly gripping the trunk before she pats it with a hand. "Awaken." She murmurs. There is a rumble, and the tree begins to rise - poking from the back of a huge troll-like creature, whose thick hands cling to the roof as it rises to its full, massive height. Drowned Ophelia a tiny figure above it's huge hunch, still casually clinging to the tree bark. She flashes those white teeth again.<br>"Queen of Tears, the Iron Maiden, the Lady in Metal. But you can just call me Ophelia." She releases the tree, raven wings formed to slow her descent back to the ground. "Time to move, or we're going to be late to our next gig."<br>There's a sudden sense of urgency in the air; The reverberating Death Metal picking up pace."<br> <br>
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