Mosaic City, located along China's coast, is quite large city sometimes called the Crossroads Between Nations due to its diverse population. While it was once a large tourist spot, the city was placed under a blockade as the military appeared claiming there was a radiation leak. The true hazard, however, is much more sinister.
Post by Kyle Shibata on Mar 6, 2014 5:37:03 GMT -5
Kyle surveyed the area around him dubiously. He didn't like how quiet the deserted production line floor was. Machines sat still, rotting away to rust, unfinished cars sat between machines, bare without the bodywork and there were ample bits of evidence that people had left here in a hurry. He eyeballed a thermos some worker had forgotten, opened and which had once contained coffee, probably.
A perfect picture of neglect.
Kyle sniffled, absently. He didn't like the atmosphere here. It stank and that was the least of things that got him wrong. Still, he had come to investigate and investigate he would. He shouldered his axe and stepped further in.
"We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves."
François de la Rochefoucauld
Post by Kyle Shibata on Mar 7, 2014 20:08:34 GMT -5
When the Shadow turned up, Kyle was ready. He really wasted no time. He summoned Sitri and ordered the winged leopard to attack.
"Sitri, Mudo."
Sitri roared, spreading its wings and a blast of darkness surrounded the Wheel in a strangling grip. The Shadow lurched backwards heavily, seemingly staggered from the attack. It whirled back around drunkenly and made a rush for him. Kyle jumped aside, easily dodging the dazed Shadow and came back with a counter-attack.
"Zio!"
A blast of lightning hit the Shadow, sending it flying backwards.
Do not let it stand, Sitri growled. Finish it. It does not like sorcery.
"Sure as hell doesn't," Kyle chuckled. "Give him another Mudo, furball."
The surge of darkness strangled the Wheel and it dissipated in a puff of particles and smoke, leaving Kyle feeling somewhat sedated. He didn't enjoy magicking shit to death as much as he did whacking them with his axe.
"I look at an enemy and all I can see is a punching bag. That can't be good," he muttered.
"We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves."
François de la Rochefoucauld