04-16-2010, 03:39 PM
Szar forced himself to continue his attack on the Terraesque. He'd been fighting savagely since Ander decided to take a hiatus, apparently having some dispute with a blond woman and the blue haired cryokinetic. Having been forced to take up Ander's slack only served to make an impossible obstacle even more impossible to oppose. He was moving slower, reacting slower, and striking with less force. The Terraesque was ignoring him entirely, in fact, content with stampeding around, crushing buildings underfoot. Szar imagined himself as a fly on the back of a much larger beast, a fly that was growing tired of not having any marked success in his efforts. Trafford had managed to wound the creature, how Szar's confidence had swelled when he saw the monster could actually be injured. The blue-haired girl, when she was fighting, was also able to slow the leviathan's progress. Even Ander had done well enough on his own before Szar arrived.
Now the Icer was left to try to keep the beast's attention, and he couldn't even do that. It was infuriating. He was a Changeling, and despite his attempts to distance himself from the stereotypes that surrounded his people, he was still furious at his inadequacy. The Changelings had once enslaved entire races, bought and sold entire worlds. Szar was a disgrace. He tried to remove himself from his culture, and it had done nothing for him. His training, his talents, they were useless if he lacked the drive to use them to their full extent.
He'd become a police officer because he'd wanted to help people. To capture a criminal and know that you made the streets safer, that was an incredible feeling. But those were regular civilians, people too weak to defend themselves from the world's torments. The contestants in Gamer's game were a different sort entirely. They had abilities and gifts that Szar could only dream of having. Their powers made his look insignificant, useless. So his mind was sharp, what good did that do? Careful planning couldn't stop this monster.
Brute force was his only option.
He needed power, power enough to make himself useful. To impose his presence upon the Terraesque, he needed an ungodly amount of strength. But it wasn't there for Szar to call upon. The blue-haired girl, the one he'd thought wasn't in full control of her powers, had returned from the confrontation of Ander and the blond entirely different. Her body was veiled in a thick mist, and freezing cold surrounded her on all sides. Her command over the frigid temperatures had grown considerably, as well as her ability to manipulate ice as an offensive tool.
It was then that Szar noticed something unfamiliar. The ground was shaking. It had been already--each step the Terraesque took caused the ground to tremble--but this was different. The earth wasn't merely shaking, it was quaking. The fact that they were in a desert and it was freezing was strange enough. Was this another glitch in Gamer's system? The world around them was already deconstructing, melting away into nothing. Trampled houses melted into a viscous liquid, which was then absorbed into the sand.
Trying to figure out what was going on consumed Szar's entire concentration, so much that he didn't see the Terraesque's claws raking towards him. The creature slammed its foot into Szar painfully, and the Icer was sent rocketing through the air. His grip on his weapons was lost as he flew, and Szar cursed his inability to fly. Just another flaw he'd never overcome. The ground was growing closer now, and Szar was moving too fast to stop himself. His mind was frantic but his body just wasn't responding. His will to continue left him, and he was grateful that he blacked out as soon as he slammed into the unforgiving sand.
"Today, class, we're going to cover Transformations."
Szar looked around, he was back at the Academy on Kajin Rala. His class was small, there were only four other Changelings on the Kajin Ralan police force. They were ordered to undertake lessons on how to tap into their latent potential. They said it was because in order to be able to fight properly, they needed to be able to understand all of the subtle nuances of their bodies. Szar looked to the notebook on his desk, picked up his pen, and began scribbling down whatever the instructor said.
"As you know, all Changelings are born with the ability to manipulate their body structure. Some are able to do this from a young age, others take years, and some never learn to do it at all. The last category is highly rare, though, so we won't cover that here.
It's not yet fully understood what is required to be able to transform, whether it's hereditary or not is also unclear. However, studies are ongoing and we hope that, in a few years time, we will have a better understanding. Until then, we have to go off of what we know, and what we know is this: Changelings who transform are some of the most formidable warriors in the galaxy. Their powers are inhuman, legendary, and entirely within your grasp. Should you complete this course you will have all the understanding necessary to take your place among the legendary."
The Professor stepped down from his podium, turning to the whireboard behind him. Pressing a button on the wall lowered a screen from the ceiling and dimmed the lights.
"This is you." Signaling another student with a wave, a projector turned on and a slide of a person took up the entire screen.
"Everyone is born with ki. The amount you have to work with is determined by the strength of your parents, as well as several other arbitrary factors. Your ki is stored here," he waved again and the projector clicked to a new slide, this one of the same person, only their stomach was glowing purple. "The colored portion is where your ki is stored, it has several names but we'll just call it...your center, or core. There are several channels that run from your core to the rest of your body, their width entirely dependant on heredity.
For example, if your father is able to call upon his Ki easily, chances are you will, too. The inverse applies as well, if your father can't control his ki well, you're likely to struggle with it as well. There are exceptions to every rule, of course, so just because your father is good or bad at ki manipulation doesn't guarantee that you'll be good or bad at it, either. Anyway, while there are channels that are always open, there are some that have blocks or obstructions. These channels, upon opening, will release an incredible amount of ki into your bloodstream, enabling you to transform."
Another wave, and another slide clicked. This one showed the same person, stomach colored purple, with several veins running from the core to the various body parts. A few veins were visible, but they had red lines running through them. "These lines represent the blocks in your ki stream. Let's see what it would look like if they were removed..."
Again the projector clicked and the same image was shown, but the person's entire body was colored purple. "As you can see, if you can remove the locks on yourself, you can access an incredible amount of power. Next week, we'll assess each of you individually and design a lesson plan to teach you how to remove these obstacles. Class dismissed."
Szar groaned as his eyes fluttered open. The sun was hanging just above him, pounding him with heat, and he was sweating. Getting to his feet proved difficult, but eventually he did it. Climbing out of the hole he'd made was even harder, but after several failed attempts he finally did that, too. His body was battered and tired, but he knew he couldn't just lay there, as much as he wanted to. The dream of his days at the Academy was still fresh in his mind. He'd been told that his ki channels were blocked, but that they were flimsy barriers. He had been told that it would only take a few months for him to transform.
Years later, he still hadn't been able to do it. His professors were baffled, saying that he should have been able to easily overcome his limitations. In spite of their constant urgings, Szar gave up all thoughts of transformation and instead focused on the rest of his studies. Now he was wishing he hadn't given up. If he had been able to transform, he'd easily be able to defeat the Terraesque and prove that he wasn't useless. Instead, he was laying in the sand, sweating like a pig, while others stronger than himself did all the work. They would likely die, the Icer was sure, but at least they would die fighting. An honor that Szar had been denied when he himself had died. But, he was alive again and he would not be denied the same honor twice. Closing his eyes, he let himself slip into an intense meditation. Complete concentration would be required if he was going to have any measure of success. The sweltering heat, the pain that burned through his entire body, everything slipped to the back of his mind as he let himself relax.
He envisioned his ki as a box with holes in the lid. The holes let his ki out, but only in small amounts. There were several padlocks on the lock box, and Szar focused his entire being on them. He probed them with his mind, testing their constitution and construction. They were sturdy enough, but upon closer inspection the Changeling found one of them to be slightly weaker than the rest. He willed it with all of his being, urged it to open and give him what he so desperately needed. He begged it to open, and when it didn't obey he tore into it with fervor. It did not budge an inch. Furious now, Szar refused to give up. He needed this power and he would not be denied! He was a Changeling, this power was his birthright! He ordered it to open, demanding its utter obedience, as his people had done so many times before. And, unbelievably, it obeyed. The lock fell away and Szar broke his meditation, grinning victoriously as he opened his eyes.
His body felt different, his chest was burning and energy leaked out of his skin, begging to be released. He was more than happy to oblidge it. With a roar he brought the full of his ki to bear, his body engulfed in a brilliant purple fire. His body began to change, his skin glowing brightly. Muscles swelled on his arms and legs, and he felt himself growing. Bones cracked and stretched as his body continued to morph. After several painful minutes, the process stopped, and Szar was amazed with the results. He had grown impressively--he was at least ten feet tall, now. His body was thick with muscle, and his pride was soaring. This was what it meant to be an Icer, to be the best. He could make a difference now against the Terraesque, but he had to make a quick stop first. Surging forward, the Icer sprinted back towards the town. His body felt different, no doubt it would take some time to adjust to his new form. He'd been used to having short legs, now he covered great distances with a single stride. He was used to looking up at people, now he would look down at them. Everything was as it should be.
Ahead of him, the Terraesque came back into view, as did the shack that contained an armory's worth of weaponry. Stopping just outside of it, he stepped inside and strode confidently to the far wall, to a weapon that had begged to be used. Gripping it with one hand, the Icer plucked the great sword from its place on the wall, marveling at how light it was now. A hero of legend needed an equally impressive weapon, Szar knew, and this one would do nicely. Setting his sights on the Terraesque, he sprinted back toward the battle, eager to test his powers out firsthand.
Now the Icer was left to try to keep the beast's attention, and he couldn't even do that. It was infuriating. He was a Changeling, and despite his attempts to distance himself from the stereotypes that surrounded his people, he was still furious at his inadequacy. The Changelings had once enslaved entire races, bought and sold entire worlds. Szar was a disgrace. He tried to remove himself from his culture, and it had done nothing for him. His training, his talents, they were useless if he lacked the drive to use them to their full extent.
He'd become a police officer because he'd wanted to help people. To capture a criminal and know that you made the streets safer, that was an incredible feeling. But those were regular civilians, people too weak to defend themselves from the world's torments. The contestants in Gamer's game were a different sort entirely. They had abilities and gifts that Szar could only dream of having. Their powers made his look insignificant, useless. So his mind was sharp, what good did that do? Careful planning couldn't stop this monster.
Brute force was his only option.
He needed power, power enough to make himself useful. To impose his presence upon the Terraesque, he needed an ungodly amount of strength. But it wasn't there for Szar to call upon. The blue-haired girl, the one he'd thought wasn't in full control of her powers, had returned from the confrontation of Ander and the blond entirely different. Her body was veiled in a thick mist, and freezing cold surrounded her on all sides. Her command over the frigid temperatures had grown considerably, as well as her ability to manipulate ice as an offensive tool.
It was then that Szar noticed something unfamiliar. The ground was shaking. It had been already--each step the Terraesque took caused the ground to tremble--but this was different. The earth wasn't merely shaking, it was quaking. The fact that they were in a desert and it was freezing was strange enough. Was this another glitch in Gamer's system? The world around them was already deconstructing, melting away into nothing. Trampled houses melted into a viscous liquid, which was then absorbed into the sand.
Trying to figure out what was going on consumed Szar's entire concentration, so much that he didn't see the Terraesque's claws raking towards him. The creature slammed its foot into Szar painfully, and the Icer was sent rocketing through the air. His grip on his weapons was lost as he flew, and Szar cursed his inability to fly. Just another flaw he'd never overcome. The ground was growing closer now, and Szar was moving too fast to stop himself. His mind was frantic but his body just wasn't responding. His will to continue left him, and he was grateful that he blacked out as soon as he slammed into the unforgiving sand.
"Today, class, we're going to cover Transformations."
Szar looked around, he was back at the Academy on Kajin Rala. His class was small, there were only four other Changelings on the Kajin Ralan police force. They were ordered to undertake lessons on how to tap into their latent potential. They said it was because in order to be able to fight properly, they needed to be able to understand all of the subtle nuances of their bodies. Szar looked to the notebook on his desk, picked up his pen, and began scribbling down whatever the instructor said.
"As you know, all Changelings are born with the ability to manipulate their body structure. Some are able to do this from a young age, others take years, and some never learn to do it at all. The last category is highly rare, though, so we won't cover that here.
It's not yet fully understood what is required to be able to transform, whether it's hereditary or not is also unclear. However, studies are ongoing and we hope that, in a few years time, we will have a better understanding. Until then, we have to go off of what we know, and what we know is this: Changelings who transform are some of the most formidable warriors in the galaxy. Their powers are inhuman, legendary, and entirely within your grasp. Should you complete this course you will have all the understanding necessary to take your place among the legendary."
The Professor stepped down from his podium, turning to the whireboard behind him. Pressing a button on the wall lowered a screen from the ceiling and dimmed the lights.
"This is you." Signaling another student with a wave, a projector turned on and a slide of a person took up the entire screen.
"Everyone is born with ki. The amount you have to work with is determined by the strength of your parents, as well as several other arbitrary factors. Your ki is stored here," he waved again and the projector clicked to a new slide, this one of the same person, only their stomach was glowing purple. "The colored portion is where your ki is stored, it has several names but we'll just call it...your center, or core. There are several channels that run from your core to the rest of your body, their width entirely dependant on heredity.
For example, if your father is able to call upon his Ki easily, chances are you will, too. The inverse applies as well, if your father can't control his ki well, you're likely to struggle with it as well. There are exceptions to every rule, of course, so just because your father is good or bad at ki manipulation doesn't guarantee that you'll be good or bad at it, either. Anyway, while there are channels that are always open, there are some that have blocks or obstructions. These channels, upon opening, will release an incredible amount of ki into your bloodstream, enabling you to transform."
Another wave, and another slide clicked. This one showed the same person, stomach colored purple, with several veins running from the core to the various body parts. A few veins were visible, but they had red lines running through them. "These lines represent the blocks in your ki stream. Let's see what it would look like if they were removed..."
Again the projector clicked and the same image was shown, but the person's entire body was colored purple. "As you can see, if you can remove the locks on yourself, you can access an incredible amount of power. Next week, we'll assess each of you individually and design a lesson plan to teach you how to remove these obstacles. Class dismissed."
Szar groaned as his eyes fluttered open. The sun was hanging just above him, pounding him with heat, and he was sweating. Getting to his feet proved difficult, but eventually he did it. Climbing out of the hole he'd made was even harder, but after several failed attempts he finally did that, too. His body was battered and tired, but he knew he couldn't just lay there, as much as he wanted to. The dream of his days at the Academy was still fresh in his mind. He'd been told that his ki channels were blocked, but that they were flimsy barriers. He had been told that it would only take a few months for him to transform.
Years later, he still hadn't been able to do it. His professors were baffled, saying that he should have been able to easily overcome his limitations. In spite of their constant urgings, Szar gave up all thoughts of transformation and instead focused on the rest of his studies. Now he was wishing he hadn't given up. If he had been able to transform, he'd easily be able to defeat the Terraesque and prove that he wasn't useless. Instead, he was laying in the sand, sweating like a pig, while others stronger than himself did all the work. They would likely die, the Icer was sure, but at least they would die fighting. An honor that Szar had been denied when he himself had died. But, he was alive again and he would not be denied the same honor twice. Closing his eyes, he let himself slip into an intense meditation. Complete concentration would be required if he was going to have any measure of success. The sweltering heat, the pain that burned through his entire body, everything slipped to the back of his mind as he let himself relax.
He envisioned his ki as a box with holes in the lid. The holes let his ki out, but only in small amounts. There were several padlocks on the lock box, and Szar focused his entire being on them. He probed them with his mind, testing their constitution and construction. They were sturdy enough, but upon closer inspection the Changeling found one of them to be slightly weaker than the rest. He willed it with all of his being, urged it to open and give him what he so desperately needed. He begged it to open, and when it didn't obey he tore into it with fervor. It did not budge an inch. Furious now, Szar refused to give up. He needed this power and he would not be denied! He was a Changeling, this power was his birthright! He ordered it to open, demanding its utter obedience, as his people had done so many times before. And, unbelievably, it obeyed. The lock fell away and Szar broke his meditation, grinning victoriously as he opened his eyes.
His body felt different, his chest was burning and energy leaked out of his skin, begging to be released. He was more than happy to oblidge it. With a roar he brought the full of his ki to bear, his body engulfed in a brilliant purple fire. His body began to change, his skin glowing brightly. Muscles swelled on his arms and legs, and he felt himself growing. Bones cracked and stretched as his body continued to morph. After several painful minutes, the process stopped, and Szar was amazed with the results. He had grown impressively--he was at least ten feet tall, now. His body was thick with muscle, and his pride was soaring. This was what it meant to be an Icer, to be the best. He could make a difference now against the Terraesque, but he had to make a quick stop first. Surging forward, the Icer sprinted back towards the town. His body felt different, no doubt it would take some time to adjust to his new form. He'd been used to having short legs, now he covered great distances with a single stride. He was used to looking up at people, now he would look down at them. Everything was as it should be.
Ahead of him, the Terraesque came back into view, as did the shack that contained an armory's worth of weaponry. Stopping just outside of it, he stepped inside and strode confidently to the far wall, to a weapon that had begged to be used. Gripping it with one hand, the Icer plucked the great sword from its place on the wall, marveling at how light it was now. A hero of legend needed an equally impressive weapon, Szar knew, and this one would do nicely. Setting his sights on the Terraesque, he sprinted back toward the battle, eager to test his powers out firsthand.