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- Sep 17, 2007
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Clairvoyance, for the Alpha Vanguard, was a funny thing. Anyone with a lick of magic could initiate the foresight. Or anyone with sufficiently advanced technology to accurately calculate the probabilities along a certain timeline. Drake Ignis, back home, would have both at his disposal, but for now, he made use of the magical method for seeing into the future. Having done more than simply leaving his homeworld - he had on occasion left his home reality - Drake's current attempt at clairvoyance was not totally alien to him, but the process that was typically haphazard and unreliable at home was made even more complex by the fact that Drake Ignis' temporal eye was not cast to anywhere in the universe he called home. It cast out further, to the infinite sea of realities, dimensions, universes, planes, among only of which Drake had ventured in his life that, on his homeworld, was considered hectically active.
Out there, amongst that writhing, turbulent ocean of endless possibilities that would all some day be realised, he found an uncanny familiarity that came to him simultaneously as completely unknown. Within the native plane, the Judge-God would enable anyone to see into the future, so long as their perception of significant future events did not alter them. It was also up to that deity to define what was and was not significant - pre-seeing the falling of a piece of bread would of course be allowed, but bearing witness to the future assassination of a president would, in most cases, not come to a seer at all. As it stood, the Judge-God granted Drake only the sense that something out there was familiar, something he had encountered before. But as it stood, there were more than a dozen beings Drake had encountered long enough to deem himself familiar with them, and that single, all-seeing deity granted him only the knowledge that out there were gathering forces, among them one he had met before. And so Drake held his mind in that sight, steadily pinning down the 'where' amongst that ruinously-churning ocean.
Standing at the precipice of a cliff, its face ashen grey, miles to his right, jutting out of the cliff-face in a series of descending, concentric rings and jutting towers, was the city of Atlantis Heights. Hundreds of cables spanned from the far side of the oddly-configured city until they met the Atlantean sea diagonally, where they would travel down a further six kilometres before they met the domed city of Atlantis Depths. Until thirteen hundred years ago, the city had remained totally open to the ocean, its pillared buildings, stout, solid homes and wide streets always with some form of aquatic life. A hunter-king who ruled Atlantis had gotten himself into confrontation with six whole Leviathans, and when he refused to cease his excessive slaughter of their kin, they laid waist to his city. Built on top of the ruins known as Old Atlantis - which were left open to the ocean as the foundation for the new city - was the domed New Atlantis.
As Drake reviewed the history of that fascinating city, he felt a literal spark across the gap separating him from his destination. It was all he needed, really. A connection between here and there, so long as Drake focused on it enough, was sufficient to see him transported there and so, without hesitation, Drake threw himself off the cliff, digitgrade legs sending him soaring out far enough to not scrape the cliff-faces or the networks of jutting structures that were the outskirts of Atlantis Heights. When he found himself falling steadily head-first, a spark ignited in a clenched fist of his, and in a flick of his arm, launched the spark around his body as he began to spin, the flicker of crimson flame gaining volume and intensity until Drake seemed nothing more than a bullet of pure fire rapidly falling toward the ocean. In an impact that sent water and steam cascading into the sky, Drake left his homeworld, and emerged in a burning forest.
Three beings he instantly countered, an essentially-automatic casting of a sensory sphere told him. Amongst the trees, a man who had fallen from the sky, taking with him a vehicle from his own world, contemplating the tongues of flame licking at the tree, from the very incendiary attack Drake had used as his link to this world. The caster of the flames that now set his jacket glowing, was surrounding a sitting, synthetic man in a dome of Earth. The target of that likely ineffectual attack had been around the longest of the four now present. Drake didn't recognise the appearance or essence of any of the three, and so left himself open to the idea that more beings would be arriving. The blonde and the android seemed relatively occupied with each other, but the man in the tree seemed to observe the flames more than he was hurt by them.
Testing the waters, Drake reached his right hand behind his back and drew out from a flexible holster a handgun that was a combination of revolver and machine pistol. Sliding his thumb behind the grip, he pointed his index finger down the length of the barrel and curled his middle finger around the trigger. Sighting without truly looking down the gun - his familiarity with it and a touch of magic meant he could hit basically any unmoving target - he squeezed off a single bullet from the circular magazine, aimed right at the neck of the man in the trees. Before he even had time to register whether he hit his target, Drake's free hand was slapping against his left hip, the Dragon's Tail already unfolding in preparation. If his target decided to be friendly, the blade would see no use. If not, he had it ready.
Out there, amongst that writhing, turbulent ocean of endless possibilities that would all some day be realised, he found an uncanny familiarity that came to him simultaneously as completely unknown. Within the native plane, the Judge-God would enable anyone to see into the future, so long as their perception of significant future events did not alter them. It was also up to that deity to define what was and was not significant - pre-seeing the falling of a piece of bread would of course be allowed, but bearing witness to the future assassination of a president would, in most cases, not come to a seer at all. As it stood, the Judge-God granted Drake only the sense that something out there was familiar, something he had encountered before. But as it stood, there were more than a dozen beings Drake had encountered long enough to deem himself familiar with them, and that single, all-seeing deity granted him only the knowledge that out there were gathering forces, among them one he had met before. And so Drake held his mind in that sight, steadily pinning down the 'where' amongst that ruinously-churning ocean.
Standing at the precipice of a cliff, its face ashen grey, miles to his right, jutting out of the cliff-face in a series of descending, concentric rings and jutting towers, was the city of Atlantis Heights. Hundreds of cables spanned from the far side of the oddly-configured city until they met the Atlantean sea diagonally, where they would travel down a further six kilometres before they met the domed city of Atlantis Depths. Until thirteen hundred years ago, the city had remained totally open to the ocean, its pillared buildings, stout, solid homes and wide streets always with some form of aquatic life. A hunter-king who ruled Atlantis had gotten himself into confrontation with six whole Leviathans, and when he refused to cease his excessive slaughter of their kin, they laid waist to his city. Built on top of the ruins known as Old Atlantis - which were left open to the ocean as the foundation for the new city - was the domed New Atlantis.
As Drake reviewed the history of that fascinating city, he felt a literal spark across the gap separating him from his destination. It was all he needed, really. A connection between here and there, so long as Drake focused on it enough, was sufficient to see him transported there and so, without hesitation, Drake threw himself off the cliff, digitgrade legs sending him soaring out far enough to not scrape the cliff-faces or the networks of jutting structures that were the outskirts of Atlantis Heights. When he found himself falling steadily head-first, a spark ignited in a clenched fist of his, and in a flick of his arm, launched the spark around his body as he began to spin, the flicker of crimson flame gaining volume and intensity until Drake seemed nothing more than a bullet of pure fire rapidly falling toward the ocean. In an impact that sent water and steam cascading into the sky, Drake left his homeworld, and emerged in a burning forest.
Three beings he instantly countered, an essentially-automatic casting of a sensory sphere told him. Amongst the trees, a man who had fallen from the sky, taking with him a vehicle from his own world, contemplating the tongues of flame licking at the tree, from the very incendiary attack Drake had used as his link to this world. The caster of the flames that now set his jacket glowing, was surrounding a sitting, synthetic man in a dome of Earth. The target of that likely ineffectual attack had been around the longest of the four now present. Drake didn't recognise the appearance or essence of any of the three, and so left himself open to the idea that more beings would be arriving. The blonde and the android seemed relatively occupied with each other, but the man in the tree seemed to observe the flames more than he was hurt by them.
Testing the waters, Drake reached his right hand behind his back and drew out from a flexible holster a handgun that was a combination of revolver and machine pistol. Sliding his thumb behind the grip, he pointed his index finger down the length of the barrel and curled his middle finger around the trigger. Sighting without truly looking down the gun - his familiarity with it and a touch of magic meant he could hit basically any unmoving target - he squeezed off a single bullet from the circular magazine, aimed right at the neck of the man in the trees. Before he even had time to register whether he hit his target, Drake's free hand was slapping against his left hip, the Dragon's Tail already unfolding in preparation. If his target decided to be friendly, the blade would see no use. If not, he had it ready.
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