Post by Sickle Ize on Aug 22, 2020 20:53:21 GMT -6
"Sir, we can't seem to pick you up on the radars. What is happening over there?" The echo of a foreign voice would channel through a radio to Sickle's right, the large lizard scratching his forehead dome as the nausea hit. He never got nauseous... What was going on? "Sir, do you- TZZZT" The static would begin to fill his cabin.
Sickle looked about woozily, his eyes locking down on the panel before him, written in the language of his people. The words, distant and foreign, but readable. It was unnerving for the lizard as he brain attempted to comprehend why he knew what the words said, but did not know what the words were or how to pronounce them. The Frost-Seijin slammed his fist into the side of the ship, doing seemingly nothing to the machine while the radio continued to cut in and out.
Outside of the windows of the great mothership, through windows to the right of Sickle's pod seat he could see far into the depths of space where he currently was traveling. Far behind him, emblazed on the side of another great ship was the emblem of his people, the Sickle Force, the ones who were trying to contact him on their radios. Sickle stopped for a second, trying to remember what he had to do with the Sickle Force. Why was his name in the name of the group? Was it even a group? Why couldn't he even seem to remember anything about his old life.
Suddenly, the space around his ship rippled like the waves of a great ocean, flashing bright with a blinding light before going back into the cold vacuum of space. He had just crossed a temporal border, something he couldn't explain. Suddenly, with the thunder of explosions, the ship rocked violently, throwing Sickle from his seat and onto the floor below.
The Frost-Seijin would climb to his feet, looking down on his massive, tall form. This was not his body... why was he almost twenty feet tall? He is supposed to be about nine feet tall at his strongest... This didn't make any sense!
More explosions followed shortly, with meteorites crashing through the windows of the great mothership, causing the vacuum of space to suck out all of the oxygen inside of the main living cabin. The door to his room opened, an alien of humanoid shape attempting to warn Sickle of his imminent doom before being immediately sucked out the shattered window, freezing in the cold death of space.
Sickle himself held onto the floor with his great toes, ripping the metal under him as the ship around him fell apart to the bombardment by the meteors, feeling the absolute zero temperature cover his entire body, freezing him slightly. Thankfully, his alien body prevented death at the hands of the great cold, enduring while he crawled his way harshly to the door to the rest of his ship.
That was not destined to be, however, as Sickle's mind blanked, all black filling the void, before waking to being inside of the main hall of his ship, holding onto the statue of a Frost-Seijin. Sickle read the words on the great statue, reading the words 'Vanilla Ize: Father' in bold Frost-Seijin lettering, before feeling the call of the void rip the figure of stone in half, dragging the lizard to the rip in the hull of the hallway port. His arms reached out and grabbed the metal, dragging himself back into the building in vain, watching the metal curl from the pressure and rip him further out of the protection of his ship and into the cold vastness of space.
His body lumped sickeningly against the sharp, metal shards floating outside of the ship. One severed Sickle's right arm, the blood freezing into a hard crystal the moment it exited the wound, leaving a ice trail of crimson-purple viscera to the stump. Another chunk of steel sliced his head at the top, severing the dome and decapitating one of Sickle's eyes. His body barely held together by his sheer power and will to live. While the freezing cold touched on his grey matter, his brain being touched by the cold darkness of the void, Sickle pulled himself close to an escape pod, broken violently previously and being pelted with meteorites flying at almost two hundred miles per hour, it was as if the Frost-Seijin was going to die. There was no survival from any and all of this damage... That was, what he thought at the time.
As Sickle drifted to sleep, and his cold death at the hands of the universe and it's gods, the Emperor much rather disappeared not from the mortal coil, but rather awoke to the shine of a bright golden star blazing on his face with a heat not felt in ages. His body whole, and his mind warped in the pain of his ever-growing collection of nightmares and horrors. As Sickle rose to his feet from his bed, the pillow he laid his horned head on the night before torn to shreds on the floor. Yet another one he would need to replace.
"Ugh, Sickle. You can't keep doing this." A voice would say away from the lizard's vision. A woman, roughly twenty two in human years stood at the doorway to his room, her brown eyes very awkward to look at, their alien features unsettling for the creature to try and take seriously. He brushed her comment aside, stepping out from his bed, the small body he was very familiar with of his Compressed Emperor form. Each foot, unlike in his dreams, was small and barely able to fill the square of a tile floor. His hands before him small, and able to wrap around the post of a bed, much rather the larger hand he once held, able to lift an entire car with one hand.
"Look, Sickle, if you're going to keep destroying stuff in your sleep I'm going to have to start charging you for the horn marks on the headboard." She would say again, sterner and showing determination. She was not lying.
"Fine, fine. You win Kari. I'll find out something." Sickle would state, his fist tapping on his head dome lightly, debating where to do from here. "I'll look into those things you showed me yesterday, What were they again?"
"Sleep analysts. They use some weird magic mumbo jumbo to go into your head and figure out what is giving you those nightmares. I really think it will help you." She'd smile, handing the card information with the location of the sleep study sessions to the Frost-Seijin. She would reach past the door, grabbing a plastic plate from a table and handing it over to Sickle, the freshly cooked meal on it making his mouth water from hunger. Roasted Leek and Potato soup, with chicken and ostrich chunks. She knew him too well. "When you're done, if that can't help I will try and find something else and get off of your case for it. I just want to see you at least try."
"Okay. I'll do it."
Sickle looked about woozily, his eyes locking down on the panel before him, written in the language of his people. The words, distant and foreign, but readable. It was unnerving for the lizard as he brain attempted to comprehend why he knew what the words said, but did not know what the words were or how to pronounce them. The Frost-Seijin slammed his fist into the side of the ship, doing seemingly nothing to the machine while the radio continued to cut in and out.
Outside of the windows of the great mothership, through windows to the right of Sickle's pod seat he could see far into the depths of space where he currently was traveling. Far behind him, emblazed on the side of another great ship was the emblem of his people, the Sickle Force, the ones who were trying to contact him on their radios. Sickle stopped for a second, trying to remember what he had to do with the Sickle Force. Why was his name in the name of the group? Was it even a group? Why couldn't he even seem to remember anything about his old life.
Suddenly, the space around his ship rippled like the waves of a great ocean, flashing bright with a blinding light before going back into the cold vacuum of space. He had just crossed a temporal border, something he couldn't explain. Suddenly, with the thunder of explosions, the ship rocked violently, throwing Sickle from his seat and onto the floor below.
The Frost-Seijin would climb to his feet, looking down on his massive, tall form. This was not his body... why was he almost twenty feet tall? He is supposed to be about nine feet tall at his strongest... This didn't make any sense!
More explosions followed shortly, with meteorites crashing through the windows of the great mothership, causing the vacuum of space to suck out all of the oxygen inside of the main living cabin. The door to his room opened, an alien of humanoid shape attempting to warn Sickle of his imminent doom before being immediately sucked out the shattered window, freezing in the cold death of space.
Sickle himself held onto the floor with his great toes, ripping the metal under him as the ship around him fell apart to the bombardment by the meteors, feeling the absolute zero temperature cover his entire body, freezing him slightly. Thankfully, his alien body prevented death at the hands of the great cold, enduring while he crawled his way harshly to the door to the rest of his ship.
That was not destined to be, however, as Sickle's mind blanked, all black filling the void, before waking to being inside of the main hall of his ship, holding onto the statue of a Frost-Seijin. Sickle read the words on the great statue, reading the words 'Vanilla Ize: Father' in bold Frost-Seijin lettering, before feeling the call of the void rip the figure of stone in half, dragging the lizard to the rip in the hull of the hallway port. His arms reached out and grabbed the metal, dragging himself back into the building in vain, watching the metal curl from the pressure and rip him further out of the protection of his ship and into the cold vastness of space.
His body lumped sickeningly against the sharp, metal shards floating outside of the ship. One severed Sickle's right arm, the blood freezing into a hard crystal the moment it exited the wound, leaving a ice trail of crimson-purple viscera to the stump. Another chunk of steel sliced his head at the top, severing the dome and decapitating one of Sickle's eyes. His body barely held together by his sheer power and will to live. While the freezing cold touched on his grey matter, his brain being touched by the cold darkness of the void, Sickle pulled himself close to an escape pod, broken violently previously and being pelted with meteorites flying at almost two hundred miles per hour, it was as if the Frost-Seijin was going to die. There was no survival from any and all of this damage... That was, what he thought at the time.
As Sickle drifted to sleep, and his cold death at the hands of the universe and it's gods, the Emperor much rather disappeared not from the mortal coil, but rather awoke to the shine of a bright golden star blazing on his face with a heat not felt in ages. His body whole, and his mind warped in the pain of his ever-growing collection of nightmares and horrors. As Sickle rose to his feet from his bed, the pillow he laid his horned head on the night before torn to shreds on the floor. Yet another one he would need to replace.
"Ugh, Sickle. You can't keep doing this." A voice would say away from the lizard's vision. A woman, roughly twenty two in human years stood at the doorway to his room, her brown eyes very awkward to look at, their alien features unsettling for the creature to try and take seriously. He brushed her comment aside, stepping out from his bed, the small body he was very familiar with of his Compressed Emperor form. Each foot, unlike in his dreams, was small and barely able to fill the square of a tile floor. His hands before him small, and able to wrap around the post of a bed, much rather the larger hand he once held, able to lift an entire car with one hand.
"Look, Sickle, if you're going to keep destroying stuff in your sleep I'm going to have to start charging you for the horn marks on the headboard." She would say again, sterner and showing determination. She was not lying.
"Fine, fine. You win Kari. I'll find out something." Sickle would state, his fist tapping on his head dome lightly, debating where to do from here. "I'll look into those things you showed me yesterday, What were they again?"
"Sleep analysts. They use some weird magic mumbo jumbo to go into your head and figure out what is giving you those nightmares. I really think it will help you." She'd smile, handing the card information with the location of the sleep study sessions to the Frost-Seijin. She would reach past the door, grabbing a plastic plate from a table and handing it over to Sickle, the freshly cooked meal on it making his mouth water from hunger. Roasted Leek and Potato soup, with chicken and ostrich chunks. She knew him too well. "When you're done, if that can't help I will try and find something else and get off of your case for it. I just want to see you at least try."
"Okay. I'll do it."