[DotA] The Company, DotS-Meido

[Amraphenson]

It is chaos. Or it would be, if such a word could aptly describe the events playing out across the battlefield. Trees bend under the sheer weight of power, water rises and falls. Limbs are torn asunder and corpses fly every which way as one army crashes into another, one of great power and another of great perserverance.

Magic swarms around a robed figure as he chants under his breath, seemingly unaware of the war raging around him. A great sphere of flame soars at him, only to be met by a great sphere of flame. Lightning rages and lances down from the sky, but lightning rages and lances up from the ground to intercept. Blasts of force reach out to maim, but are blocked by blasts of force. He smiles and chuckles ever so slightly, still muttering. He is the Grand Magus.

A feminine form flips and leaps as if flying, double sided blade tearing into flesh and clearing it asunder. The sight of her is like an oil canvas, obscured and blurry and streaked with the bright crimson of blood. Slivers of gold fly out, seeking necks and kidneys and other such organs. She is death itself, slicing away armor and limb and life as if it were not even there. She is the Phantom Assassin.

The rattling of gears and the clank of metal echo out from his armored body. Rockets streak through the air with a high pitched scream, landing and wreaking havoc as eyes are blinded and soldiers are exploded. The armor explodes and sputters out bits of metal as if faulty, but that's merely another weapon. He weaves in and out of the ranks, chain and hook bringing him right to the fight. He is Clockwerk.

He wanders the edge of reality, shards of his realm lashing out at the warmth of the realm. His body is of the pitchest black, his flesh like crystal and his armor like the void. Where he roams, the enemy falls. His staff raises and all are laid low in front of him, weak and feeble in their infantile mortalities before his magnificence. He is the Outworld Destroyer.

Flesh dissolves, souls scream and are consumed. None are spared as wide swathes of soldiers simply disappear, lost to the tempest of howling rage. Razed like ripe wheat, scythed away for enjoyment and self-sustainment. He laughs, a roaring thing, as the shadows around him stir and deepen, cry and shiver. He is Nevermore.

Fire. Fire of the soul, reaching out from a form without features yet beautiful all the same. Great pillars of flame, an empodiment soaring through the sky leaving weapons destoyed and bodies incinerated. Smaller forms, no less powerful or potent, fly out to aid ally and sunder foe alike. It is the Phoenix.

A laugh, jolly and simple yet somehow resonating with resolve and force of personality. Does the fire erupt one, or twice, or thrice, or more? Does his presence fuel the actions of his allies, or is it pure luck that their blades swing faster and their feet carry them further? How does one tell amongst the chaos of war? Regardless, he is the Ogre Magi.

One dozen. Two dozen? Half a dozen. Countless spears and countless forms, methodical and efficient. An army in and of himself, an army of one and a one man army. Light paints paths into the sky, wreather around yet another spear, to be wielded upon impact by another of the infinite legion. He is the Phantom Lancer.

Ice chills to the bone, chills nothing but bone. Legions scatter before the rising pillars of frost and the towering glacial slabs, armor chilled with the essence of his very existance. And amongst it all, a blizzard roars and jumps from victim to victim, flaying away flesh as it haphazardly flies between them. All while he laughs, watching from afar. He is the Lich.

Pebbles. Rocks. Stones. Boulders. Mountains. An avalanche fueling itself, stampeding into greater and greater heights. His every blow shakes the ground before him as he grows, grows, and grows even more. Before but a whelp of an elemental, now a titan of granite and soil, thundering through the ranks like so many ants. He is Tiny.

A spirit, a mere entity of light formed into what may have passed as humanoid, flies, tethered to allies. The line snaps and twangs, stunning and staggering those in its path. More spirits soar, smashing into soldiers and laying them low. And then he disappears, appearing in one place for a moment to assist his allies before returning from whence he came. He is the Guardian Wisp.

Flame emerges from his throat, clearing the crowd before him. The shield strikes out like a shooting star, felling as many foes as the crimson blade in his hand. Wounds are cut into him, but he cares little as the blood seems to boil and seal them shut in seconds. Armor becomes scales, helmet becomes maw, capes become wings, and he fights anew. He is the Dragon Knight.

Red. Red like blood, his skin is scarlet. The blade is grey and weathered, but tears through flesh and bone and steel with little effort. The weak are culled, the cowards routed from behind their shields and rended into ribbons. Those who fight him are slaughtered, those who do not are drained dry of their life. He is Axe.

Seeds, simple things, are flicked and embed themselves in the armor. Then vines erupt from them, trapping the victims and draining their very lives, siphoning it away for better use. He emerges unseen from the trees and binds all within sight, trapping them there while his allies, glowing with the vitality of the forest, tear into them with fervor. He is the Treant Protector.

He wields a blade that surges with the tide, exploding from him like a tsunami. He splits into four, each acting as if melded with the others, and binds his foes in net, leaving them like fish to the slaughter. And when the force of the enemy is too great, too strong to withstand, he opens his mouth a lets out a single, quavering note, silencing and stifling the very war itself as his allies brace themselves and ready for combat once more. He is the Siren.

Storms of hail wrack their enemies, freezing them to the spot and leaving no chance of escape. Walls of ice sprout from the ground and seal off all hopes. Battalions and brigades are seperated and preyed on. Waves of snow carry ally and tear apart enemy alike, leaving the enemy in disarray. And then his fist reels back, charged with the very essence of the North itself, before it strikes and splits the world itself. He is Tuskarr.

Still, they can sense it's not enough. Not even they can stem the flow of war, as lopsided as it is, no matter how much they try. But they persist and fight back, knowing that anything they do to delay this endless assault will be worth it. That's what they gathered all together for, their entire purpose. They fought together knowing that they very well may die, yet they continued onwards, perservering towards an impossible goal.

'We're not from here, and we're not obligated, but I can't sit by just watching everything go to hell.'

'It's obvious we have to help, right?'

'Leaving them to their fates wouldn't be manly.'

'It's a pain, but the world getting run over would be more so.'

'Why wouldn't we help them?'

'We were brought here for a reason, I think.'

They were simply known as The Company.
----
AN: I'm a little leery about posting this here, since it's not Touhou related at all and really a glorified self+friendinsert fic, but hey I have people waiting on me and it's technically not a game discussion thread. This'll be a right mess, haha. Look at all those characters.

[Amraphenson]

This wasn't what I had planned when I started this entire apprentice idea.

It wasn't as though I really put much thought into the matter. Sucked into my computer, thrown into some kind of high fantasy world with nothing but the clothes on my back, what else could I do? With a massive castle looming near, I did the only thing that made sense in all the chaos. Walk there.

And that's how I ended up being the apprentice for a self-proclaimed Grand Magus who's most famous (and infamous) ability was copying spells.

So that leaves me the current situation. To finish my apprenticeship, after what must have been two years of constant pain and suffering and learning, I was assigned a single task. It was simple, easy. Unlike a vast majority of missions a powerful wizard may put you on, there were no bells and whistles, no hidden facets to it. No twists or sudden plot changes. This thing was simple.

My final task as the apprentice to the Grand Magus was to take said title of Grand Magus.

The traditional way.

I mean, I shouldn't have been surprised. Succession of a role in the magic community was always via hostile takeover. Always. There weren't any prissy successions or ceremonies or staves being passed on or anything like that. Nope, there was just a clash of power and the title going to whoever lived to take it. In fact, I should have been thankful to the old fart for giving me a fair shot! Most holders of the title are rather...efficient, shall we say, at holding on to it.

Yeah, that sounded logical and all. Didn't stop me from cursing at the unfairness of it all.

Especially when a blast of lime green energy ripped into the floor, barely missing turning my leg into dust. He wasn't even taking me seriously! His signature Fade Bolt was a homing spell most of the time. I shouldn't have been able to dodge that! His condescending chuckle was just the icing on the shame cake.

I bring my staff about and focus, calling forth a similar glow. Analyse residual magic traces. Create shell. Replicate internal energies. With another word, I let loose the spell. Compared to the vibrant green of his, my own Fade Bolt was a much more subdued dull blue. But all it takes for him is a word, and my spell disperses hamrlessly around the massive chunk of earth he's ripped form the ground.

Can't help but let out another inappropriate phrase when that barrier is summarily turned into a projectile the size of an eighteen wheeler.

That exchange of blows, as much as it could be called an 'exchange' (because that implies equivalency), was an effective summary of this duel so far. He'd blast me with some powerful spell, I'd barely dodge, fire my weaker version back, then get a whole different spell to the face as he countered without a word.

A bolt of fire skims past my head, singing the hair. My return is dodged as he just disappears and reappears somewhere else, now charging a lance of lightning in his hands. I only barely manage to copy the blink spell, hair standing up on edge as I avoid the electric spell with naught a split second to spare. Don't even get the time to copy and return it before he stomps on the ground, sending a flow of angry earth to crush me into paste, forcing me to stop casting halfway. The half-assed lightning invocation delays his Fissure spell just long enough for me to counter with my own, but a wave of shrapnel still washes over me.

Planting my staff into the ground, I pant. Not only was I rapidly running out of mana and stamina, I probably needed a haircut after all these close shaves.

God, not even my buried corpse would have any dignity. I could picture the tombstone: "Here lies a dead apprentice. His hair is horrible".

He laughs again. "Excellent, excellent! You've exceeded my wildest expectations my boy! Come, let us continue!"

I frown. Can't tell if he's being sarcastic or condescending. It doesn't feel like I've proved anything, done anything of note. I feel like a mouse being played with by a cat. This was...this was impossible, wasn't it?

Is that it?

My frown deepens. Yes, it was. I was putting my all into this.

That all you have?

My frown turns into a grimace. No, that's a lie. I wasn't going further. I wasn't taking the obvious step forward.

You've spent all this time struggling to stay alive, gripping on to your only chance, just to die out here?

My grimace turns into a snarl. Was I afraid? Was I scared of what would happen if I did that?

What a joke.

My snarl erupts into a roar. Fuck it. Fuck being afraid.

This entire time I've done nothing but react, copying spells for the sole purpose of countering those spells. Reactive, not proactive. It wasn't like me at all.

He raises his staff, spell power roaring around him.

I grip my own, both power and staff. TIme to do this for real. If the only thing I can really do is copy him...then I need to copy him faster. Consequences be damned.

My right hand reaches out in a claw, mana reaching out to embrace the developing spell around him. Examine the shape. Copy the element. Replicate the environmental interaction. Combine all the processes of spell creation...and steal it. The sudden surge of pain in the back of my head is background noise.

The staff shoots forward before he can even finish his spell. My finished spell, a Deafening Blast, covers the distance between us in a flash. His emerges a second later, canceling mine without collateral.

That's fine. Even if my spell was still negated, the flow of the battle has changed. Before I was scrambling to even cast mine, but now I was outpacing him. Was he grinning behind that infuriating dueling mask of his? I don't know. Probably. Didn't matter.

He starts a Light Strike Array, a powerful spell meant to annihilate and stagger wide swathes of army at once. If it hits me, I'm done. Thankfully, mine comes just a tad faster, forcing him to cancel the pyromancy so he can dodge. It's a shoddy replica, lacking the force and area of the original, sputtering like embers instead of roaring like a great pillar of flame.

Completely okay. I was completely fine with bad versions of spells, as long as I got them out before him. In this kind of duel, spell perfection didn't matter at all. All that mattered was who threw out more firepower, who managed to throw the other off enough just to get that golden oppurtunity, that beautiful killshot. Bullet could be a slapdash, shoddy .22 LR or it could be a perfectly hand hammered 7.65mm, but a bullet to the brain was a bullet to the brain.

This was where the duel really started.

Shadowraze? Mine hits the floor first, distracting my teacher just long enough for me to get well out of the way. Storm Bolt? Slower, weaker, and less powerful mine may have been, it still came out first, staggering him out of his own cast. Avalanche? If ours had both been released at the same time, his would've swept up mine and sealed my grave even harder. Thank god I managed to get mine out a second earlier.

I can do this. If I can keep pushing this advantage, if I keep casting faster than him, if I keep up this rotation of spells, if I can-

No you can't.

Pain blossoms explosively in my head, blinding me. I barely finish my Arc Lightning on time, somehow managing to divert his into the ground. I can't even feel the explosion of shrapnel that batters me. Time slows. I see him begin a new spell, a B---- ----

You can't keep this up.

Fuck it! I wasn't giving up! Not now, when I had somehow managed to scrounge up some kind of advantage! He's casting a Bla-- ----, this is my only chance-

It's not. You're done. Your mind can't handle it.

So what if my brain was being pushed to the absolute limit, and further, by the entire spell steal process? I either risked an aneurysm or got crushed under his relentless hail of magic. Tough choice, but with that Black ---- coming at me, I think I'll pick-

The easy way out. Give up. You're done.

No. I refuse. This wasn't over. At least, he wasn't ending it. I was. I was going to copy that Black Ho--, and I was going to-

You can't. You don't have the energy.

The swirling of matter begins. He's already begun it, already started channeling the full spell. I was slow. Rocks and chunks of the ground are torn from the ground with ease, turning the area around us into a vortex of stone and granite. He gives me a look that may have been solemn and congratulates me on the effort. "You've done well, my child. Very well. Exceedingly well, if I do say so myself. But this is the end. Farewell."

In another five seconds, point zero would emerge. I'd be sucked into the center of the Black Hol- and crushed into a single atom. There was no point in stealing it now. He was too close to the end. It would be pointless.

You don't have the energy to cast that.

Fine.

You wouldn't be able to manage the forces of that spell without outright dying.

Alright. I can't do it. I give up. I can't cast that in time. Doesn't matter if I've finished analyzing it, I can't cast Black Hole in time.

If you tried to cast it, you would die. If you don't cast anything, you die.

But. But.

There's no way you can Spell Steal your way out of this.

I didn't need to Steal anything.

But you can do that. You can-

Cast.

The last vestiges of my power flow out, covering my staff in a thin glow. It lifts in the air, floating and thrumming with my mana. Telekinesis. The simplest of spells he's taught me.

Three seconds left.

It begins to vibrate, begging to be let loose. But I can hardly keep concentrated enough to even manage the staff itself, let alone launch it.

Two seconds.

Doesn't matter. Do or die. The spell was ready. All I had to do was...

One second.

...Launch it.

Zoom. It shoots through the air like a badly lit comet. The forces of the Black Hole make it waver, but it's not enough. The spell itself is nearly ready to be unleashed, but it's not enough. I'm pretty much completely dry and useless at this point, but it's not enough. He's too commited to his spell to even react. His only hope is to finish casting his Black Ho-

Squish. Thunk.

And like a curtain call over our performance, it ends. All the picked up debris unceremoniously hits the ground. The flow of magic ends. I breathe.

He's there. He's impaled to the ground by my staff like a butterfly, wings of blood spread across the granite, but the damn bastard's still laughing. "What amazing energies...what innovation...what...sorcery..."

Just like that, he passes away.

I let out a laugh, but it's really more of a choke. I did it. I won. I was the Grand Magus now. I inherited all of his estate, all of his magic, all of his possessions. His staff, his tomes, his...money...his...bed...

Thud.

Zzzzzzz.

-The Company, Origins: Grand Magus Chapter-
-Complete-
AN: Well, first off is my intro chapter. Having selected the Grand Magus as my hero of representation, I wanted to write about the most interesting mechanic he had to offer: Spell Steal. It's funny how Rubick can steal spells that are technically not even spells, like a glorified molotov cocktail or literally a dragon's breath. This was the easiest for me to write, since it is a self-insert, and probably the most polished.

[Amraphenson]

There was an odd sort of tranquility to this place. Even if it was mind breaking and horribly disturbing. The geometries were...interesting, to say the least.
Edges bending into corners, corners forming edges, edges melting into sides, sides becoming faces, faces forming points...

How long had it been now? A day? A few? He didn't quite remember. Not clearly, anyway. Wasn't quite sure how far, either.
Time is a concept without purchase here. Hours become meters, meters ticking away to seconds, seconds becoming inches...

He was getting aggravated, really. Not only was he starting to get hungry, but he'd been walking for the entirety of this distance. Nothing but dark stone, smooth and rough, and glimmering crystals as far as the eye could see.
All concepts are without purchase. Temperature is mass. Density affects composition. Nothing is everything. Everything is nothing. The only constant is " "

A frown. The entirety of this distance, or the entirety of this time? ...Was there a difference, at this point?

He sighed once at that point and continued walking, obsidian dust crunching under his feet. Larger shards would poke into his feet, but that had long since ceased bothering him. It had been an excruciating ordeal to even begin, but now? Background noise.

He would misstep and impale himself upon a sliver of black glass, over and over again until it stopped hurting, until he could do nothing but stifle the tears and move on. What was once a hazard was now armor, fused to his very flesh.

He would glance in the wrong direction and a crystal would shine once, plunging his mind into a void of madness and insanity. He would lie there, covered in cold sweat, until he could walk again. Each time disabled him for less, each experience hardening him for the next. What was once a deadly trap was now training, steeling his mind against further horrors.

And what horrors he would face. Monstrosities that lacked flesh, abominations without eyes or with too many,  undescribable things that just failed description. Sometimes they would linger at the edge of his vision, always there but never in full sight. Then others were only visible in reflections, barely even silhouettes, and never there when he turned. Others would linger over his shoulder, breathing and whispering words into his ears, clawing away at the tenacious grip on his sanity.

Those were the nice ones.

Attacks of all kinds. Tentacles and tendrils snaking in, attacking with no visible source or origin. Huge gaping maws opening up in the very ground, disappearing without trace as soon as he somehow avoided it. He avoided them all, somehow, still alive even after all this distance. Time. Whatever.

Not without cost, of course. A finger here, a toe there, an ear over there. The blood from his woulds would pick up the dust, unnatural clots forming of their own volition. Clots became lumps, lumps slowly forming into odd replacements. He was thankful, at the very least. Even if his new fingers had an extra joint or two, or his foot was bent the wrong way, or his face a little too still. Alive was alive, after all.

Soon enough he even grew a little annoyed. He'd dealt with each and every one of these little events over a dozen times already! When were they going to give up? Where they  at all?

The thought of these annoyances continuing to irritate him while he walked on, looking for some sort of exit or reprieve, inexplicably angered him. Angered him to the point that his hand clenched, that his teeth grit, that his eyes narrowed...

Another one. Some sort of spectre, looming right over his head, drooling mouth no doubt intending to behead him in one bite.

He snarled once.

A blast of brilliant light emanated from his form, disintegrating the ghoul in a flash. Crystals crumbled to dust, obsidian shattered, eyes open. He saw the truth then. There wasn't a need to look or anything silly like that. If he wanted an exit, then all he'd have to do was just ask.

Well, really, it was more of a demand.

A glimmering tear in the air itself appeared before him at his call, sized perfectly for his new form. All sleek obsidian and crystal armor, an ornate staff in one hand and wings of cold stone spread wide from his back.

There was something he had to do. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he knew it had to be done.

He stepped forward.

----
My first act as Grand Magus was to wake up in absolute pain and agony.

Nothing had moved me, of course, from my spot on the ground. That would explain the soreness and general pain. Mentally, I (tried to) take note of my injuries.

Burns of various origin. Bruises. A few open wounds, a few fractured bones. An ankle that was probably sprained, possibly a broken rib.

I blinked. Not nearly as bad as I expected. Considering the magnitude of spellpower being thrown around, I was expecting more.

After a moment's more thought, I frowned at my silliness. Obviously I didn't have any serious injuries; if any of those spells had actually hit me, I would be dead. Old codger he may have been, he was nothing if not thorough.

A groan escaped my lips. Glancing blows or not, those had hurt. Getting myself back to my room would be a pain.

I glanced once at his corpse, still there and impaled by my staff. The blood was still a little damp from what I saw, but mostly dry. It was even kind of nice looking, in a morbid corpse-art sort of way. Bastard looked serene.

That'd be a bitch to clean up later.

----
With the whole mage nation being abandoned and pretty much over as it was, there wasn't actually a lot for me to inherit. My predecessor was alive by virture of just how powerful his magic was; he was the last remnant of an entire abandoned city.

That left me with...everything, really. After I had spent enough time recovering, I was staggered by the sheer amount of stuff just laying around, some of it recognizable due to my slapdash, accelerated apprenticeship, and others whos functions I could only guess at.

Summoning circles, alchemic apparatus, magical artifacts and weapons, potion reagants, spell tomes, cages for particularly interesting magical beasts (some still occupied!), staves and rods, robes, obelisks, shrines, ritual circles...everything I could think of and more could be found in my new estate, and I hadn't even begun to explore the others! Busy as I was, I'd never had the chance to go to other parts of the city outside of the Grand Magus' estate.

Not to mention the estates themselves! Artificial forests, swamps, chunks of mountain ranges cut out and plopped there like cake slices, self contained cities and sprawling fields. The underground portions would stretch miles downward, reach veins of magma and precious metal, and the skies themselves were settled if the floating islands were any indication. All this info from what was pretty much a glorified tourist's brochure in my newly inherited library.

It was vast to the point it was silly. My head hurt just from trying to comprehend the exact value of  all this.

What would I do with it? Well, really, what couldn't I do with it? The possibilities were endless, not even the sky was the limit, and I pretty much had all the time in the wo-

Time froze.

I could feel it. The intrusion upon reality, the sudden appearance of a massive magical presence. Something wrong had just entered this dimension.

Slowly, I turned around. There was a sort of hum of power, and the grind of smooth stone against smooth stone. Some kind of armored knight, all smooth obsidian and glowing diamond. A crystal topped staff, exuding nothing but sheer power, and wings like a statue's. The amount of mana in the air was almost choking. A rift in the air closed behind him, and he faced me. The face was too still, too...blank.

"You," he said simply.
 
"Y-yeah?" If there was ever a point where I sounded scared shitless, that was it.

The headpiece to his staff glowed for an ominous moment, putting me even further on edge. From what I could tell, it wasn't even a spell being gathered; it was just a mass of mana shaped into something vaguely representing a projectile, and if he launched it the resulting explosion could very well just disintegrate me. Already I was scanning around for cover, preparing a spell, doing anything I could to make sure I survived this-

"Do you have food?"

If there was one thing I learned that day, it's that there's no better way to break tension than to ask for a meal.

--The Company, Origins: Outworld Destroyer chapter--
--Complete--
AN: And there's Rikter's chapter. OD's lore is actually pretty interesting; there's not a specific reason why he left his realm, and there's a definite 'superior' feel to his quotes and spell descriptions. Rikter is a nice contrast to myself, I think, and I tried to characterize him as such here. He's more serious, but also more easily irritated, and in my eyes I've always seen Rikter as very stoic, which as a guy who keeps his heart on his sleeve I find a little envious. Hope you liked it Rikter.

[Amraphenson]

It was bright. So bright. Bright like midday with no clouds, like the light of the sun with no shrouds.

It was warm. So warm. Warm like a hearth smoldering with fresh coals, like the beat of a heart after achieving a goal.

So bright and warm. So comfortable, so easing. So content. There wasn't any reason to leave. Everything was perfect here. No wrongs, no mistakes, no disappointments, no betrayals, no anything. Everything was at peace.

This is wrong.

A blink. What about it was wrong? There was nothing wrong here.

Exactly.

A frown. What sort of logic was that? There wasn't a thing out of place here! Why was that wrong?

Life...isn't so simple. Isn't so clear cut. What is a high without a low? Success without the risk of failure? Happiness without the possibility of sadness?

Newly formed eyes widen, then begin to water. Fingers clench around nothing.

You're here alone. You were taken from your home. Certainly, it's warm here, and nigh perfect, but what about your attachments? What you left behind? While you enjoy this, others...

Lips purse and teeth grind. Truth. Nothing but truth.

Can't stay. Not here. Not while others are out there, not while people are left behind. Had to go back. Had to find them.

Had to leave.

A thin tear in the realm opened, cold and darkness flooding in. There seemed to be some omnipresent protest to the intrusion, but it paid no mind. It had something to do.

It stepped through.

----
The Seven Sacred Emanations converged for but a single moment, and in that great blaze a pyre of the highest purity formed.

In that blaze, a single being was created. With wings of fire and a form of flame, it descended, searching for what it had lost.

It was the Phoenix.

----
"So, nothing? Absolutely nothing?"

"Only a name. I am not quite sure if it is even mine."

I sighed, free hand scratching my chin. "That's more than I remember," I admitted.

Having fed the odd visitor, mostly out of fear for my own life, I couldn't help but ask for for his circumstances. It was to my great surprise that his story, barring the details, was in fact identical to mine. Whisked away from a previous location, memory wiped, made to deal with some ordeal that gave them power, then...well, the present.

It was one hell of a coincidence, if it was one.

"So, uh...what's your plan now?" Not that I had a plan for myself, really, but if he had one that might give me an idea.

He shook his head, clearly unsure himself. "I suppose I'll stay here? You seem confused as well."

I made an expression at that statement, but I didn't have a rebuttal. "Well, I was planning on exploring a bit more of this city, since I sorta inherited all of it-"

A sudden, jarring explosion rocked the very ground, throwing the two of us off balance for a moment. My only response at that point was a groan, being long past actual surprise.

"I'm going to check this out. You wanna come with?" It was a long shot. It...he barely knew me. There wasn't really any obligation to help me out with something that was probably life threatening, so-

He shrugged nonchalantly and brought up his staff. "Why not? I owe a debt to you for the food."

After a moment's surprise, I raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Alright then. This'll be as good a way as any to start off the expedition."

Feeling a little more confident, I headed out.

----
Impure. Unclean. Cold. Dark. An eyesore, a blemish upon the eyes.

Fire. Burn it all away. Hide away until it's all gone.

Cleanse everything. Be reborn.

----
"Christ, what the hell is with this heat?!" I shouted, mantle already off and half considering ripping off the shirt under it.

Of course, my new friend had no such problems, since he consisted mostly of molten glass. "I have no idea," he said flatly, clearly unaffected. Ugh, that was unfair. Why didn't I get some kind of upgrade?

My grimace deepens at the fires raging around us; the heat was high enough that some of the dry materials just combusted. I was barely managing myself with a Resist Elements, but it was a close thing, and it was getting hotter by the moment. "We have to get closer and stop whatever-Holy shit!"

A building in the distance simply disintegrated, completely consumed in an expanding orb of white. With a thunderous roar the wave grew more and more, simply destroying everything in its path before finally dissappating into a far denser orb, like a miniature sun just hanging in the air.

And like a sun, it burned and immolated. Huge jets of flame simply leaped from it, splashing onto the ground and leaving great scorch marks upon it. Everything within the vicinity was either destroyed or soon to be, unable to withstand the sheer heat.

That wasn't what scared me, not primarily. The real problem was that it was growing.

"Well fuck. Any ideas?" I asked lamely, one arm in front of my face to shield it from the glare.

Not an answer was said, but one was certainly given; with tremendous speed and an aura of confidence, he simply ran towards it, crystal atop his staff glowing brilliantly. Somehow, I managed to sigh and swing my staff, casting my best resistance spell upon him.

The source of this supernova was pretty clear; the sun in the middle. We had to destroy that, else a big part of the city would soon be eaten up.

I couldn't approach without some sort of stronger spell, so my only choice was to support from afar. But how to do that?

As my new companion drew closer, I decided that nothing ventured meant nothing gained. With an exertion of power and an extension of will, several large chunks of debris around me simply lifted into the air. Launching followed after another word and gesture, turning them into deadly projectiles. If they impacted, I was fairly sure that the thing would collapse on itself...

Alas, I was also fairly sure they'd never make it, and they didn't. The inferno simply destroyed them in a flash of stifling heat, possibly in reaction or possibly in a coincidence. More testing was needed before I really let loose.

He was closer now, but apparently not close enough to attack himself. I resolved to keep up the attack and launched a Fade Bolt this time, dull blue energy lancing through the air, but again it was caught up in the storm of fire and dissolved into nothing.

Damn. That limited my options. I was going to be pretty useless pretty soon if this kept up...

Meanwhile he drew his staff back, apparently and finally close enough to attack, and just threw his arm forward. A huge blast of what must have been pure mana just exploded from the staff tip with a tremoundous roar, throwing me off balance, and the resulting collision had all the force of a bomb.

I whistled, impressed and a tad afraid. Clash of the titans right here.

To the sun's merit, it didn't seem too damaged from that, but what mattered was that that infernal defense of its had dimmed during that split second, and that was something I could work with.

"Do it again!" I screamed, gathering power. Probably didn't need my help at all, really, but eh. Let's go.

Recall spell from memory. Fabricate vessel. Imbed mana attribute, determine element. Form...

He nodded and launched another. That time I was ready for the shockwave, and I steadied my feet, words of magic still flowing from my lips.

Free...

The aura of flame that had nullified my attacks before faded for a split second as the orb shuddered from the impact. It was barely any time at all, but it was enough.

Fire.

The lance of ice streaks through the air with a horrid scream, piercing the source of the destruction not a second later. It was one of the most powerful spells I legitimately knew, a frost-elemented projectile meant to completely pierce and shatter any defense, and it proved worthwhile to cast on this occasion.

All the chaos and madness ended right there, no longer sustained by the core.

And then all of a sudden the impaled psuedo-sun popped like a balloon, leaving some kind of bird person behind.

I caught up with my friend (and jeez was it getting annoying to refer to him like that, should've asked for his name earlier instead of whether he had one) as fast as possible and just stared.

Andryogynous and, in fact, genderless. Feathers of a vivid red and orange coloration, and legs like a birds from the knee down. Not to mention the talons. "Huh," I managed, both exhausted and just confused.

I spotted the obsidian warrior narrow his eyebrows ever so slightly in confusion. "That...that is a thing."

Couldn't do anything but nod at that.

--The Company, Origins: Phoenix Chapter--
--Complete--

AN: And there's DollS. I like DollS, though sometimes his/her/its positive outlook on things is a tad grating. There's a limit to that kind of outlook, of course, and even DollS gets irritated sometimes. The main thing I wanted to feature here was the Supernova ability, Phoenix's signature, and Outworld Destroyer's Arcane Orb. Both are pains in the ass for Rubick, who's a lot more about finesse.

[Amraphenson]

If there's another thing I learned that day, it was that I was a paranoid mother fucker.

"So. You're Rikter," I started, pointing the obsidian covered one. A nod was my answer. "And you're Dolls." Another nod, this time from the (now clothed) phoenix-humanoid. "And neither of you remember anything else?" Two more nods, followed by my own sigh of exasperation. Now we were gathered around a table back in the Grand Magus estate, partaking in some food, as the newest member of our group had been famished upon returning to consciousness.

"Fuck. I know those names. I...think I do? Not real names...no, they're not real names, but...pseudonyms? But why do I know them? I can't put any faces to them...shit, I don't remember a thing. Sorry."

"It's fine. Don't strain yourself too much," said Dolls, clearly worried. He...she...it?...was clearly more openly emotional than Rikter, if the reaction to the swathe of destruction she had caused was any indication.

I'll stick with she.

"No, I remember the most out of all three of us, but I can't even remember names."

Too much of a coincidence. Way too much. My suspicion was growing by the second. The beginnings were when Rikter explained what his history was, and it was compounded by Dolls' own story.

In effect, we were all the same. Stolen from a different world, conditioned into entities of power, then thrust into a situation to act on their own. Not only that, but the last happened for all three of us in quick succession; mine, then Rikter's, then Dolls's.

It couldn't be a fluke. It was too convoluted. Was the abduction at the same time? With their memories being so hazy in regards to actual duration, I couldn't confirm that. I knew for sure that it had been two years since I popped into this dimension; for that matter, why was the calendar the same? What were the chances of a world having the exact same orbit time around their star? Mathematically, the chances were slim to none. Nothing added up, and everything was just leading me to further confusion.

There were inconsistancies, of course. Rikter and Dolls didn't remember a damn thing about their past, save for the names they gave me, while I had hazy images but not a single thing in specific. Was that intentional? Was that sort of mental conditioning on purpose or a mistake? Or a coincidence? Was I meant to have a different set of memories, or did this mysterious force that caused all this fuck up? Was there a 'mysterious force', or was I just making some sort of elaborate conspiracy theory in my head because of nearly two years worth of exposure to a Magus? Shit, I remember being pretty hungry when I first got control of myself too, was that a thing?

It was painful to think about.

"As productive as listening to you rant is, I think we should do something else," Rikter interrupted. I frown, A little harsh, but true. No point wasting time. "I get the feeling this is going to happen with increasing frequency," he added, thoughts clearly stirring in his mind as well.

I nodded and rose from my seat. Dolls seemed worried that an argument would start at Rikter's comment, but I honestly didn't mind at the time. "Let's find you guys somewhere to sleep; old codger must have had guest rooms somewhere."

It was something strange, and more than a little too exciting, but that was how the Company began.

----
AN: A short interlude to give things a sort of cap before I start on the next section. To be honest, I feel kind of bad for making myself the main focus of this thing, but you gotta have some evils. It's also a display of how I tend to counterthink myself and generally just think up massive chains of 'whatif', and sets the tone for what I plan for this to be. Hope you all enjoyed it so far.

QUINTUPLE UPDATES FUCK YEAH.
and yeah I can't decide between present and past tense. :\