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 The End Of Days -|IC Closed Mature|-

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Joker's Ace

Female Posts : 900
Join date : 2009-07-19
Age : 32
Location : The ninth gate of HELL

PostSubject: The End Of Days -|IC Closed Mature|-   Tue Aug 18, 2009 7:48 am

The land of 1530 B.C. was one of enlightenment, of learning, of wonder. The Mayan civilization was growing rapidly, day by day expanding, learning, yearning to be the most civilized culture on the planet. They constructed temples, great structural peaks of their time. A being walked among the Mayan people, one so powerful, time itself was said to stand still for it's very breath. Inside this being was all the power of the universe, everything from hopes and dreams, wishes, nightmares, everything one could ever imagine was stored deep inside this mythical being. The Mayan's sole job was to protect it, guard it with their very lives, for one day, the being would be needed, with the fate of the world resting solely on it's shoulders. It had already happened once. The darkness that consumed the world, an all consuming loss of hope that none could defeat or hide from. And this being, rightly titled the Lehydre, stood in the center of the eye and from its figure rose all the hope and wonder, amazement and awe, that the darkness had taken. The Lehydre was completely exhausted after its battle with the Darkness, so much so that it turned into a statue or pure, unyielding obsidian that many tried to break, but none succeeded. A temple was built by the ancient Mayan priests. 'Twas built on the darkest of days, during the longest of hours. Within the temple, aside from the great chambers of beauty, were deadly traps, each worse than the next. Everything known to the ancient people were put within these traps; they were, after all, protecting something far more precious than anything ever created before. For within this temple sat the statue of the Lehydre, the savior, the only one that could defeat the Darkness.

-|Present Day|-

"It was prophesied by the Mayan priests and priestesses that the day would come, hundreds of centuries after their demise, when the Lehydre was once more needed. When the world would feel the quells of the Darkness seeping into its very marrow. And thus, a body of people would rise. One with a mind sharp as a blade, one with the strength of them all, one with knowledge of the land, one with the power over the dead, and one to lead them all. These five would trek the world, travel to places unknown, to find the Lehydre and bring about the next generation of mortals. Though if they failed, if one in their number could not fulfill their obligated duties, then the world would fall to the Darkness. Mountains would crumple, the seas would cease to roar, and the land would become naught but a barren waste land full of despair, tragedy, and death..."

Gregory McMillian looked up from the book he was reading. His dark brown eyes pierced the room, resting on each and every individual there. He believed, had to believe, that they'd found those individuals, the ones that would, in a very literal sense, save the world.

"You, each and everyone of you, have been brought here, to this room, for the same reason. We're holding this prophesy I've just read as fact. It's the only possible explanation to what's happening around the world, and in the sky." Gregory spoke softly as he let his statement hang on the air, his eyes continuing to burn holes into every single person. They were in the United States, the White House to be exact. It had been chosen as the meeting place for the five, mainly due to it's closeness to the Amazon. The figure heads of the world had chosen Gregory McMillion to act as the liaison between their consensus and the five during the course of the trip, and though he wasn't overly pleased with the idea, the young senator took the job with a grave seriousness that none had expected from him. Though he had to take on the serious demeanor. One look outside, and you could see the changes already taking place. The sun had been covered in clouds for days, and everyone felt the effects of the Darkness. Laughter was coming less and less from the lips of passersby, and, of course, there was the great, black inkblot that was constantly in the sky to the west. It had swirling depths of red and brown, but mostly it was a massive blackness that even missiles could do nothing to. And they'd tried. Oh yes, they had. But the missiles seemed to do nothing more than get lost in the great blackness.

"You will depart within the hour." He stated, his voice becoming more and more authoritative the longer he spoke. "We will give you," He glanced at his watch for a moment before looking back up at the group, "Thirty minutes until departure. Take this time to do whatever you wish, get to know each other, meditate, pray, it's the last thirty minutes you have of freedom before you save the world." Nodding to them, offering a small smile, Gregory walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft clipping sound.

-|Two Days Prior|-

"Yeah yeah, I know. I broke another one." Leslie grinned to the main engineer on her team, her hands dropping to rest on the table as laughter danced in her eyes. "But you were asking for it with this one, what were you thinking, making a car so flimsy? I was taking it to the middle of the rain forest, surely there was something you could have done, Rupert." She only laughed at his exasperated look. The Engineer, Rupert, shook his head, his eyes traveling over the wreckage.

"Flimsy? Christ, Les! That thing was made of steel. STEEL, I say. And you managed to bring it back in halves! What did you do? Ram it through a tree?" Flashing him a quick grin, the young woman turned walking away as she muttered,

"Something like that, though there were cliffs involved as well." She walked to her front door, only to stop mid exit. There were cars in her driveway, if you could call the large turn-about a driveway. "Hmm... What's all this about?" She asked to no one in particular as she jogged down the stairs of her mansion, greeting the incredibly formal gentlemen with a nod and half smile. "Something I can do for you boys?"

An hour later, Leslie was situated in her private jet. Location, the White House. It wasn't the first time she'd been to the President's house before, though it was the first time she'd been asked to partake in some sort of mission. She looked down in her lap at the files the men, Secret Services she'd mused (mainly from their complete lack of laughter) and frowned. It was serious, that she knew. But it felt as if she opened the file, and actually read what was expected of her, there would be no turning back, no denying, what was happening. Shaking off the feelings of anxiety, Leslie reached down and broke the official seal, opening the file slowly. She half expected some party favor, or some such to leap out at her, it would be just like her colleagues to throw a prank like this. Though nothing lept out at her, nothing scared her, there was nothing in the files except for papers, pictures, and what looked to be hundreds of notes. Her eyes went wide as she scanned the main page, the explanation.

"Shit..." She muttered as she hunkered back in the seat, picking up the file. Her eyes never left the pages, not the entire time she flew. So this was it then...? Save the world time. It was either that, or parish forever. "Well I'll be damned..."

-|Present Day|-

Standing against the fireplace that seemed to be the main focus of the room, Akasha Leslie Molaris sighed and looked around. Had it only been two days ago? So much could change in such a short amount of time. These were the people chosen to find the Lehydre? Had she been the one in charge, Leslie would most definitely chosen to take an entire army, but there was the matter of secrecy, and the more people in on something, the more chance of a leak. Whatever, it didn't matter. This was what she had to work with. As she stepped into the front of the room, her long blond dread locks rustled a bit causing the woman to lift her hand and swirl it around quickly before roughly tying a hair tie around it. Intense blue eyes roamed over the room, looking at everyone. She forced herself to smile as she reached down, picking up a pile of papers from the dark, cherry wood table that stood front and center in the room.

"Alrighty then. I'll start I guess. I'm Leslie, and I'll be leading this happy little group. Any questions, comments or concerns speak them now, because once we're in the middle of the Amazon, it's going to be difficult to argue over semantics." Leslie's voice was firm, commanding, as she spoke to the group. She nodded and took a step back, leaning her body against the wall. Her hand lifted to brush a few stray pieces of lint from the tan tank top she wore. Over the top she had on a leather jacket that stopped mid abdomen, leaving, clearly visible, the double magnums on her back and the whip on her side. She had on plain, black pants with a rather deadly looking hunter's knife strapped to her thigh, and the dirtiest pair of steel toed boots she owned.


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PostSubject: Re: The End Of Days -|IC Closed Mature|-   Tue Aug 18, 2009 1:48 pm

-|Two Days Prior|-
Thomas hummed an indiscernible tune to himself as he typed in the new directional parameters. The monitor's luminescent glow filled the otherwise darkened room. He hadn't realized the time, too caught up in recording the new results from their recent test runs. Finally typing in the last set of numbers, Thomas looked down towards the time. It was nearly midnight already. He saved his work, wondering aloud if these new results would help them further progress. There was a tremendous amount of stress leading the world-wide coalition of scientists and engineers. Not only was he expected to produce satisfactory results, he was heading up one of the most important human experiments known to man.

Turning off the computer, Thomas began collecting his personal belongs spread throughout the room. This wasn't even his office; he'd just commandeered it, trying to get the new information entered into the commutative database immediately. Thomas shrugged, he'd hear about his abrupt behavior tomorrow from the fellow for sure. As he was pressing the power button on the monitor, the only thing providing a faint glow into the room, he heard an authoritative shout from outside the room.

"Excuse me! You are not allowed down here! This is a restricted area!" A guard was obviously shouting at someone who'd entered the hallway without proper authorization. Thomas was curious as to who'd accidentally win up way down here. "I'm authorized to use deadly force!" A last feeble attempt from the guard to halt the intruder's progress into a rather sensitive, top-secret area. Thomas was beginning to get worried. He knew the type of data he was dealing with was highly protected. The military-provided security spoke volumes of what was guarded in this otherwise civilian laboratory.

Thomas strained his ears as he tried to listen for any tell-tell signs of who was outside of the room. He heard a commanding, almost gruff, voice speak next. The man obviously carried some sort of authority, it was clearly evident in his voice that he expected to be obeyed. "I'm looking for Dr. Anderson. It's of national important that I find him. Now." Thomas could hear the guard stammering apologies nervously. That meant the men in the hallway outranked him by a considerably margin.

"I believe he's in the office, right there. He's been in there for hours with the light off. He might be asleep," the guard said, attempting to gain some dignity back. "Let me open the door for you." The guard held a master key card which allowed access to most of the rooms on this floor.

Thomas sighed. He didn't have time for all of this; he needed to get home and figure out these recent computations. Closing the distance from the desk to the door, Thomas was able to hear the guard sliding the card into the reader. He heard the approving beep as the door was hastily opened, revealing a set of nearly identical men wearing black suits. They appeared to be American, Secret Service maybe.

"Dr. Anderson?" The one on the left asked, holding out a hand.

"Yes, how may I help you?" He said, with a questioning frown at seeing the two men. He shook the man's hand, again shaking the other's hand when he reached out as well.

"There's little time. We're from D.C., Secret Service." Again, the man on the left spoke, showing a shiny badg as proof of identity. "We need you to follow us. There's a helicopter on the roof waiting to take you to the airport where we'll rendezvous with a personal jet already fueled and awaiting your arrival."

Shocked, Thomas stammered as the man held out his hand, an indication for Thomas to take the lead. "Helicopter? Jet? What's going on? What does Secret Service want from me?" Thomas' questions went unanswered as they made their way down the maze of hallways in urgent stride. Thomas could feel the anxiousness from the two guards, sensing how important this was.

It wasn't long before he was sitting in a loud helicopter, causing him to gyrate uncontrollably. It was too loud to get anyone's attention. He still had no clue what was happening or where they'd be heading once in the private jet. The two men climbed in, handing Thomas a briefcase which clearly red in large, obnoxious red type, "TOP SECRET". This was like right out of the movies, thought Thomas to himself.

-|Present Day|-
Thomas sat in the room with little to say. He'd read the file numerous times. Still, none of it made any sense. He couldn't believe that all they had, all they were preparing to do, was respond to some ancient prophecy written by a civilization that'd been extinct for millenniums. Surely there was something else they could, something more practical. Why hadn't the public been made aware of this? Why hadn't they regarded the scientists around the world, trying to find a more approachable solution. But this? This was the grand plan to save the world? Send a rag-tag group of five selected individuals into an ancient temple, which was written to have an unpredictable array of death traps? Thomas couldn't hold back an audible sigh as he considered all of this.

Luckily, no one seemed to be paying him much attention as a new person, Leslie, began speaking. He could see what appeared to be hand-grips for a couple of pistols, and oddly, a handle belonging to a whip. Her attire reminded him of one of those action movies, with the bad-ass female soldier kicking ass and taking names. A smile began to form on his face, the mental image clearly amusing to him.

He looked around the room at the other people gathered here. He wondered what each of them were chosen for. What did they bring to the group? Why only send five of them and not an entire army? He sighed again and waited, wondering who'd be the next to introduce themselves. Just like a school class, he thought. Go around the room, everyone saying their name and introducing themselves. Hi, everyone! My name is Thomas. I'm a Doctor in theoretical quantum mechanics. I spend all day playing with particle acceleration! Oh, and I do love chocolate-chip cookies. He scolded himself; this wasn't a joking matter, and he certainly didn't want to come off like a jackass to everyone else.
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PostSubject: Re: The End Of Days -|IC Closed Mature|-   Wed Aug 19, 2009 5:42 pm

-|Two Days Prior|-
There was the happy scent of home cooking filling the Sergeant's nose as he lent against the kitchen counter of his father's home. He'd been away for longer than usual- the marine's new regime, hadn't seemed to apply for the past 7 months and now, his long awaited, 4 months overdue leave, had finally come. He'd been looking forward to this as for the last few weeks of his excursion, Alexis hadn't been able to get in touch with home- someone had got got angry and ruined the only phone they'd had to share. But he was home and safe now, and looking forward to the next month and a half spending quality time with his dad,

"Es ist gut, Sie zu haben Haus, Alexis. Ich habe Sie verfehlt"

It wasn't unusual for his father to speak in German, infact it was something that Alexis had wanted to hear so much. It seemed a little sad to have his old man as his best friend but this was the only person outside the Marines that he could place his trust in fully. And this small, rather cramped kitchen, was suprisingly on of the few places he was comfortable in.

A small smile spread across his face as he watched the man cook away and just as he was about to carry on the conversation, his phone rang. With a mutter profanity, he answered and so lost the smile that was on his face. His heart sank with the details he was being given. Yes he knew that this was important and that he needed to serve his country but- he'd been home less than 24 hours,

"Yes. Sir. I understand- how lon-- oh..."

-|Present Day|-
He'd felt so guilty, they'd picked him up half an hour after that phone call. The look on his father's face. It had left a bitter imprint on Alexis and even after apologising profusely to him- that defeated expression. He was just lucky to get the support he did from his only parent- that the man understood the importance. He promised to call though, as often as he could. Atleast that was something he supposed.

But now, he stood a little tired and jet lagged from the flight to Washington. His marines' uniform and equipment had already been on the plane when he'd got to the airport, which meant he never had any choice in the matter and this had been planned to the last detail. Though he'd spent the entirety of the flight either reading over the brief, being talk at or cleaning his boots- something he found calming when he was getting a little... stressed.

He let his mind wander as he listened to the Senator re-tell the briefing he'd read over half a dozen times already. Only snapping to attention when Ms. Molaris piped up. His expresion didn't chaged but his head told him she was stupid to appoint herself as the leader of the group. Sure, she knew about old piece of dirt and crumbling artefacts. But really, she'd have no clue what to do if there was immenent danger in the form of an attack. Still, he let her claim this post of leader, if he didn't like her orders well, he didn't have to follow them. Yet he wouldn't under estimate her just yet, she seemed fiesty and her files had numerous interesting accounts.

He'd read all the files and yet, there was only one that didn't have much in- infact, he'd just been given a name and a warning from his superior. She wasn't hard to guess though, as she was the only other female in the room. He knew he'd have to find some amount of trust in both the women in the team and yet, he just didn't want to.

An he wasn't going to announce himself either. It was pretty obvious who and what he was- dressed up in his combat gear with a rather hefty bag at his side and guns strapped to him. Yep, that'd be the Marine guy, lets not ask a stupid question as to who he is shall we? Maybe it was the fact he hadn't slept at all, but he was getting just a little agitated with all this nonsense of introductions and so took this opportunity to comment, seeming as he was allowed this "freedom" for thirty minutes. He may have looked impeccable in his uniform, but when he spoke- that german scottish accent of his would be a downfall, most certainly not a help when it came to communitcating,

"We're not in school anymore, so I don't think you need to talk to us like we're a bunch of idiots..."

Clearly, not impressed with his first confrontation with this woman, Alexis new straight away that there would be arguments only, he wasn't going to humour her by arguing back. No, this was his only comment towards Leslie and should she want his words, not that she would considering he'd given the image of 'arrogant marine' to everyone, she'd have to do better than talk to him like he was a child. He had no intention of being a soft guy towards them- as far as he was concerned he'd never talk to them again after this was over. Not unless it was required. And his personal life and emotions were not for them to see. Sgt. Burkhard was indeed a private person.
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Matt Punk
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PostSubject: Re: The End Of Days -|IC Closed Mature|-   Mon Aug 31, 2009 8:43 am

After the last one announced themselves, Jack took a final swig of Partayy!, a rather gaudily-coloured can of energy drink that fizzed delightfully on one’s tongue. Or rather, a can that was of energy drink: he’d finished it, and he set it down on the carpet, perfectly aligned with his obsessively-polished shoes that he’d taken off not having sat down five minutes. With them off, it was easier to not only sit cross-legged in the squashy armchair, but also to fidget, something he was terribly proficient at, be it wriggling his toes or entertaining the urge to scratch a notorious itch on his back.

It seemed not yesterday, though of course it was, in a rare visit to see his mother, he’d managed to tag along with her to her workplace, out of sheer boredom. He’d known at the time he was probably playing with fire, but when faced with the choice of bugging the Home Secretary of Great Britain (his mother’s client)’s office, it was quite hard for him to resist. Needless to say, it had not taken long for him to be caught, but five minutes’ eavesdropping was as good as an hour’s worth, or so he’d been told about fifty times, not least by his own mother. The repercussions were not pleasant, and included being threatened with a gun of some description (not Jack’s strong point, firearms). He’d bitten off rather considerably more than he could chew, this time: he’d managed to snoop into a meeting between almost all of the important world leaders, as they discussed the quest for The Lehydre, whatever that was. It had something to do with the… whatever it was… in the sky: he’d gleaned that much. The end result, anyway, was that his mother’s job and his spotless criminal record would both be preserved if he helped hunt for The Lehydre in the Amazon. Later, it was explained to him that certain organizations would be seeking The Lehydre for personal gain, hence the covert theme of the meeting.

As all eyes turned to him, Jack looked each and every person up and down a few times before he spoke himself. The first to speak, the leader, she called herself, Akasha, as he recalled, seemed a confident person. What’s more, all signs concerning her clothing and equipment, as well as her general demeanour, led him to assume she was rather well off, financially. Had she made her fortune like himself, through building up a business? Had she saved? The other three, increasingly shameless options were that she’d been given it, stole it, or married it. What was she doing now in her life: still making money – or, indeed, retiring at such a young age, and occupying her time with adventures such as this?
The second in their group to speak, the one Jack had been most intrigued by from the moment he saw him, was an enormous figure, in both stature and presence, even to Jack’s slightly numb social barometer, he absolutely radiated the warning, ‘Do not mess.’

Without speaking, Jack leaned over the side of the chair to grab his briefcase. While many cleared their throats or raised their hands for attention, Jack instead swung his briefcase round onto his lap, knocking the empty drink can over with a dull ‘chink’. This tiny motion, like a pin dropping, got everyone’s attention in the stifling, vacuum-like atmosphere.
Removing a single leaf from the case, and returning it to the ground, Jack spoke abruptly. His voice was very slow and controlled, just loud enough to be heard by everyone, and with very little expression beyond a faint Welsh accent. “If you’re ‘Akasha Leslie Molaris, aged thirty’,” he looked conspicuously at her whilst tapping the sheet of paper, “that leaves ‘Sgt Alexis Burkhard of the Royal Marines, aged thirty-four’,” he looked up at the other two, and pointed at the much more imposing figure - the one with guns strapped to him. “and ‘Thomas Anderson, particle physicist, aged twenty-seven’,” he pointed at the other figure. Even without his reputation preceding him, he seemed very intelligent, despite his discrete appearance.
“Oh yeah, and I’m Jack Dawes – clearly the brains of this operation, since I’m the only one that bothered to research. Questions?”
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PostSubject: Re: The End Of Days -|IC Closed Mature|-   Tue Sep 01, 2009 6:37 am

[Four Days Prior]

The oppressive wetness of the jungle stuck to their skin in a cloying mist, their clothes damp and almost transparent, sweat trickling down their brows from underneath their helmets, their skin a rosy shade of pink with the heat. They were growling at one another, snapping, the heat obviously getting to them. Normally accustomed to suits and desks, they were getting blisters from their hiking boots, and they were riddled with bite marks from the bugs. Their hands and knees were callused and cut up from the jungle. They stopped in a small clearing, sitting down on the mossy ground, and one man leant up against a tree. A spider runs over his hand and he squeals like a girl, flicking the spider away. It sails harmlessly through the air and lands on a nearby plant, to scurry off in to the underbrush. He looks at the tree he was leaning against, to see if there are more spiders on it, but then he notices that the tree isn’t actually a tree. The men crowd around him, and pulling the vines and leaves from the tree, the column is exposed. It is not a tree, but a column of shrunken heads. The men look at one another, and a woman’s name is whispered. They scurry away from the clearing in a hurry, and begin hacking their way through the jungle again. As they leave, one of the heads twitches. One eye that isn’t sewn shut slowly opens, and turns to watch them leave.

[Three Days Prior]

“How long has he been doing that?”

“Since we brought him in, about five hours ago.”

“He’s been sitting in that corner, rocking backwards and forwards, knocking his head against the wall for five hours, muttering, and no one has gone in there?”


The two men in suits watched the man shudder. His clothes were still damp from the jungle’s heat, and he was covered with scratches and bruises. He is scratching at his own skin, and the walls of the interview room. “That’s nuts,” one man said to the other.

“You think that’s bad?” he beckoned to the man. “Follow me.”

He led him down corridors, talking a he went. “The team went in about a week ago. They had to extract her by any means necessary. We sent five in. We thought that surely five of them would be enough. Apparently, we were wrong.” He showed his ID to a man in a little booth and he buzzed them into the morgue.

“The morgue.. what..?”

The other man held up his hand. “We lost communication with them a few days ago, so we sent a team in to find them. This is what we found of them, plus the nut bag in the room.”

Three bodies lay on gurneys, sheets covering them up to their midsections on two. One body didn’t even look like a body, just a shrunken, shriveled husk of a man. One man had gouged his own eyes out. The last body was completely unscathed, but it had a distorted look of terror on his face, like he was scared to death. “Jesus… What happened to them?”

The other man shrugged. “The Señora got to them,” he said simply. The other man’s eyes were wide. “Can we prove that?”


“Then what do we do?”

“We take her down. Bring her out.”

[Present Day]

There was a knock on the door and it then creaked open. A suited man entered with two armed men in tow. The armed men were dressed in full tactical gear, and looked like they were about to kick a door down. “One more for you, Leslie,” the suited man said. “But be careful.” One of the armed men nodded out the doorway, and another armed man entered. He was escorting, at gun point, a woman.

It was hard to look at her and actually see her for what she really was. He skin was naturally bronzed. Her almond shaped eyes were a greenish gold, a startling contrast to her skin tone. They were framed with dark eyelashes, thick and long. Beautiful and young looking, yet her thick, waist length hair was pure white. Was she old or young? Who could tell. He figure was shapely and beautiful even under the rags of the dress she wore, yet her hair and her demeanor was that of an ancient, regal woman. Her hands and ankles were shackled and she clinked as she walked.

She seated herself, folding herself gracefully into a chair. She looked completely and utterly harmless. “This is The Señora,” the suited man said. “She has promised to be well behaved, but if she so much as shakes a bone at you, you have permission to kill her. Be careful of her, she is here under duress.” They left, and The Señora looked around at the assembled group, blinking her big beautiful eyes at them calmly.
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