Board Thread:Talkplays/@comment-4211788-20161219065535/@comment-5142578-20161220015630

Somewhere, in a world comprised mostly of icy tundra, the wind and hail from a hurricane continues to beat against the platforms of the off-shore oil-refinery that served as the resistance's base, and the waves began to rise as they crashed against the complex, but never quite reaching the deck. Lightning splits the heavens periodically, illuminating the platforms in a flash of bright light each time. Only a few people are outside during this time, most of whom were the soldiers unlucky enough to have guard duty during a storm like this.

'BANG! '

Another deafening blow echoes through one of the hangers on the southwest platform, but it wasn't thunder this time. Smoke rises steadily from the end of a bolt-action rifle held by a gray wolf with luminescent green eyes. Across the shooting range, a black metal target resembling a person is missing its head. In fact, a lot of targets were headless, serving as evidence to the wolf's unerring accuracy. The wolf quickly reloads the gun in the blink of an eye, swapping out the now empty box magazine for one containing six high-caliber rounds before chambering the round. Three empty box magazines now lie on the floor, discarded after they had been discharged. But, the wolf was no longer aiming his weapon at the targets. Without turning, he pointed the gun near the entrance to his right. "These are live rounds." he warned.

Numen steps out of the shadows. "Impressive, Frost." he says, nonchalant about having a high powered rifle aimed at him. "Most do not detect my presence so quickly."

"Who are you?" Frost says, not bothering with the hooded figure's complement. As he turns to face the mystery person, he pauses. "You're not from this world."

"Indeed I'm not. Nevertheless, I am someone in need of your abilities." Numen replies. "And your help."

"Not interested." Frost states. "I'm dealing with a war of my own."

<span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"That was not a request." the hooded figure responds. "Your world, along with mine and countless others, will be corrupted and destroyed by a being of unimaginable power. A being known as Malwrath."

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">Frost raises an eyebrow. He's heard that name before from somewhere.

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Familiar?" Numen asks. "You heard that name during your time on Mata-Mobi. In another life, so to speak. During your time there, you went back in time to undo a chain of events that would ultimately lead to Rivak winning this war, bringing Mata-Mobi to the brink of destruction, and, most importantly, resulting in the death of your sister."

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">Frost lowers his weapon. It shouldn't have been possible for anyone else to know that, yet this stranger does. Whoever this stranger was, he now had Frost's undivided attention.

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Though, I don't understand." the monk muses. "You could have just gone back to the point where Rivak betrayed you, killing him before he tried to kill you. He dies, you and your sister live. Problem solved." Lightning flashes once more, flooding the hanger with blinding light and the clap of thunder for a brief moment. Numen was now standing next to Frost, seeming to have teleported.

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Instead, you went even further back." he continues. "Back to prevent the deaths of nearly a quarter million people. People who had no significance to you." he raises an eyebrow. “You shifted hands in your past life multiple times. Saved countless people, but also killed countless in the process. I am hoping you are willing to save more, whatever your motive.” While the other heroes were quite simple to understand, this wolf was something of an enigma. Making him. . . unpredictable, erratic even.

<p style="margin:0in0in0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"What is it you want from me,  exactly ?" Frost asks.

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">He sighs, leaning against the table near the shooting range. His power was ebbing, and so was his strength. "I want you to retrieve an artifact known as The Voice of Spirits." Numen answers. "You will be working with four other heroes I have recruited. You will not succeed individually; your only chance of saving your worlds is to work together."

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">The soldier narrows his eyes. He knows he's not being told the whole story.

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"That is all you need to know." the monk adds, as though reading Frost's mind. "I will not force you to help, but you know if my words are true, then failure will result in the death of not just my world, but yours also." he looks at Frost, making direct eye contact. "I knew you would be the most difficult to recruit, which is why I left you for last. My power is weakening as the corruption of my world gets worse. If you refuse, I cannot find anyone to take your place."

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">Frost stays silent for a minute, though to the monk it feels like an eternity. Finally, the wolf nods. "I'll help." he says.

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">Numen lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you." he says. "I will give you fifteen minutes to gather what equipment you think you may need. Then, we must depart."

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">Frost leaves the hanger, heading out into the howling hurricane. About fifteen minutes later, he returns wearing what appears to be a cross between his previous uniform and some kind of experimental combat armor. In addition, he is equipped with a few prototype weapons. "One last thing." he says. "My sister. If anything happens to her while I'm gone-"

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Time outside of the island will be brought to a halt." Numen quickly explains. "Should you succeed in our quest, it will be as though you never left."

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">Frost looks at the monk, not completely convinced. He didn't sense any deception either. Whether or not this was true, it was too late to back out now. "I'm ready." Frost says, taking a deep breath. It'll be the last time he breathed in the crisp, cold air of his world for a while.

<p style="margin:12pt0in;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">The hooded figure nods. Unlike the others, he didn't knock out Frost. Instead, using what was left of his power, he allowed himself and Frost to dissipate into the air, teleporting to the island. Lightning crashes outside once more, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Then, all was dead quiet. The resistance base was now in the eye of the storm.