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Power of Three Update

2009-06-13 10:07:34 by Infinitus-Zero

I'm on Team: Tri-Genesis

And we're gonna make an awesome game.

Okay, I'm done here.



I'm interested in participating in the Power of Three NG summer event. It sounds like loads of fun and I've always wanted to make a game.

I've attached a sample of what I can do art-wise. I haven't finished any flash movies for anyone to see yet. I'm very comfortable animating with Flash CS3 and have very (very, very) basic knowledge of Actionscript 3.0 (pretty much buttons and transitioning between scenes). I'm pretty chill and (hopefully) easy to get along with.

If you're serious about teaming up with me, please PM me with info about who else is in the team (if any) and some info about yourself (or a link to a descriptive page like this).

Hope I can form or join a team!

Artist/Animator for Power of Three Event!



This was written a while back.... so pardon the many errors and such.

The night sky was dark and devoid of light. The moon was nowhere to be found and the stars were shrouded in a thick veil of stormy clouds. In a small town situated by a forsaken forest on one side and a wide, rushing river on the other, on this exact night, one girl's life was changed forever.
The clock had not struck the twelfth hour when the downpour started. Water rained down from the dark heavens in a prodigal torrent. The drops were the size of marbles; they splattered against the roof of the town inn, creating the illusion of many hands beating against the building.
The town did not receive too many visitors, but there were a few fishermen who regularly stopped by as well as a traveler or two. When they came, they always stayed at the inn. So, at this late hour Esther was still serving the people in the dining hall. Two drunk fishermen sat in the corner laughing obscenely at some joke while two women sat near the fire chatting over mugs of hot cider. A few townspeople were present as well, forced to take refuge from the rain.
Esther was pouring more beer for a man when she heard the door open. In stepped a man dressed in a long, hooded traveling cloak. He closed the door quietly and sat down at a table near the fire. Esther walked over to his table and regarded him with curiosity. His hood was long and obscured his face conveniently, his dark cloak covered his entire body and hid his form well.
"Would you like something to eat?" she asked.
The stranger shook his head slowly.
"Something to drink?"
Again he shook his head.
Esther shrugged and walked back into the kitchens. As the night went on the dining hall emptied gradually. The only person left was the man in the cloak. The rain had not stopped or slowed and thunder had joined the shower. Esther had finished her shift and was about to retire when someone walked into the inn. It was Derrick, the young man whom Esther had a bit of a crush on. He was charming and polite as well as dashingly handsome, although a good deal older than Esther. He sat down at a table and clutched his side, wincing as he did. Esther rushed over to him.
"Derrick! Are you hurt?"
He looked up at her and smiled.
"I'll be alright Esther, thanks for asking. Would you mind getting me some whiskey though?"
"My shift is over but sure."
"Thank you."
She went back to the kitchen to go find some.
The stranger waited a few seconds before standing up and walking over to the man Esther had called Derrick. The man looked up at the stranger and grinned.
"Care to join me good sir?"
"Stephen Caldwell," said the stranger. His ominous voice radiated with dark energy and echoed around the room.
Derrick's eyes widened in shock. He rose from his chair and stumbled backwards.
"How? How do you know that name? W-who is this Stephen that you speak of?"
The stranger stepped towards Derrick.
"You are charged with high crimes. I've come for you."
Esther walked back into the dining hall with a bottle of whiskey and saw the stranger standing in front of a cowering Derrick.
"Help me Esther! This man's mad!" yelled Derrick.
"This man has committed offensive crimes. He has much to answer for. Do not interfere," said the man without turning. He stepped closer to Derrick and raised his arm, readying to punch him. Esther ran in front of Derrick and held her arms out in protest.
"Derrick hasn't done anything wrong! Leave him be!"
The punch connected with her stomach and sent her flying back. She landed hard on the floor but was surprised to feel no pain. Looking around she saw that she was back in the kitchen. Esther ran back to the dining hall and saw the stranger still standing before Derrick but that was not what scared her anymore. It was the crumpled body laying at his feet which Esther feared. The body was hers. Her own eyes were staring back at her, lifeless.
"I don't know who you are or what organization you're from, but you'll never take me alive!" bellowed Derrick as he ran for the door. Before he even crossed half of the room the stranger suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking his path.
"You cannot run, you cannot hide," said the stranger quietly. He raised his arm again to punch, but Derrick suddenly leaped backwards with extraordinary agility. His eyes rolled up in their sockets and he collapsed onto the floor, shaking all over.
"I smell young virgin blood," whispered Derrick. His eyes had turned red and his face wore an insane expression. He lunged for Esther's body, but the stranger quickly blocked his path again. In one fluid motion he undid the clasp at the neck of his cloak and threw it off.
Esther stared at the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. The stranger was a slim but tightly muscled man who wore sheer leather garments. Three aquamarine colored gemstones were embedded in his chest to the left. Around his neck he wore a long, soft, blue scarf. Strangest of all was his face. He wore a hard, wooden mask colored black on the right side of his face and white on the left side; there were no eye holes.
"What are you supposed to be? A painted doll?" sneered the red eyed Derrick. He slammed his fist into the stranger's chest and cackled as the man was sent flying back into the wall. There was a moment of silence tainted with Derrick's snickers.
The stranger picked himself back up and walked towards Derrick again. stepped closer to Derrick.
"I've come for your soul Stephen Caldwell," said the man.
In a blur of speed the strange man closed the distance between them and grasped Derrick by the throat. With one arm he lifted the struggling man up into the air. Somehow Derrick's body fell to the floor and the stranger held the shimmering form of the man's soul in his hand.
With his other hand the masked man made a slashing motion at the air in front of him. Where he had waved, the air tore open and blackness spilled from the rift. He threw Derrick's soul into the rift and it closed, leaving no trace of the disturbance.
Esther watched as the man walked over to where she was standing.
"You should return to your body."
The deep, sonorous voice sent shivers down her spine, not necessarily in a negative way. It just sounded so alien, so full of intoxicating mystery. She gazed fearfully at her limp body.
"What? How? Aren't I dead?"
"You are not. Your soul has been separated from your body by accident. You may return, simply immerse yourself into your body."
"Oh... okay."
Esther walked, or rather floated, over to her body and melted into herself. Everything went black.
Opening her eyes Esther saw that she was lying on the ground of the dining hall and the masked stranger was standing a good distance away, watching her.
"Am I.. alright now?" she murmured to herself. Poking herself, she confirmed that she was indeed her fleshy self and not a disembodied soul. She quickly got up from the floor and brushed the filth from her clothes, all the while keeping a wary eye on the strange man.
"Who are you and what did you do with Derrick?" she demanded.
"I am not at liberty to answer those questions," responded the man in a monotone.
A laugh rang out from the other end of the room.
"I know what he is. He's a damn fool!"
Esther's eyes flickered over to where Derrick's form was rising from the floor and widened in horror. He did not look human anymore.
His engorged muscles were laced with thick, black veins, his skin had paled to white, his fingers ended in black claws and his eyes were maliciously black. Seeing her expression he grinned, revealing the rows of razor sharp teeth.
"By tearing the boy's soul away you've given me free reign. This body is mine!" With a wild cry the thing flung itself at the stranger, its claws outstretched.
The masked man grabbed a hold of both the creature's wrists and restrained him while he turned his head slightly in Esther's direction.
"Hide."
She didn't need to be told twice. Like a flash of lightning Esther left the room as fast as she could, running upstairs to hide somewhere.
"I should thank you for giving me my own body. To show my appreciation I'll give you a quick death. How does that sound?" the demon laughed and wresting his arms free of the man's grip, slashed at his face.
He dodged out of the way gracefully and slammed his knuckles into the monstrous face of the demon. The force of the blow threw the demon into the opposite wall, cracking it in several places. It grimaced and wiped the corner of its mouth with a hand.
"Fast little bugger aren't you? Well I'm faster!"
The demon rushed at the man again and this time it was just a bare blur. It swiped at the stranger this way and that but still could not land a blow. The man blocked all its blows and strikes with surgical precision as he spun this way and that, shifting and shuffling his feet in a graceful dance. Finally the masked man saw an opening and attacked, striking with a side kick this time. The demon was once again flung across the room like a rag doll.
"Why won't you go down!" it panted. Suddenly its brows furrowed and its eyes flitted shut. The pale demon shuddered violently before collapsing to his feet in obvious pain. From out of its back sprung a pair of black, leathery wings. The now winged demon stood back up and grinned.
Darkness gathered in the strange man's right hand, like wisps of steam they spread from his hand to form the shape of an enormous scythe which then solidified into the real thing. The shaft alone was taller than the man and the blade spanned many feet. Opposite the sickle blade were two smaller blades shaped into curved hooks like the maw of a beast opening to tear flesh from its prey. The dark metal seemed to absorb light from the room as the scythe wielding stranger stepped towards the demon menacingly.
"A scythe, could that mean.... Who are you?" asked the demon.
"My name is Faeon Wirow," he said as he spun the colossal scythe once over his head.
For the first time so far the demon showed traces of fear.
"Death," he whispered in awe.
The masked man who called himself Faeon whirled his scythe a second time and jumped at the demon with a slash. It leaped out of the way and flapped up to the rafters.
"You'll never take me!" it screamed as it smashed through the roof and flew into the night. Faeon leaped nimbly onto a rafter with unnatural agility and followed the demon out of the hole.
Water fell from the heavens in a blanket of liquid bullets which saturated everything it touched within seconds. The demon was severely hampered by the rain and struggled to stay aloft while Faeon jumped across rooftops coming ever closer.
Peeking over its shoulder the demon saw a blur of motion and rolled over clumsily, trying to avoid Faeon but to no avail. There was a dim gleam of silver and the demon fell from the sky; the stump that was once its left wing gushed with blood which mixed with rainwater and became indiscernible in the dark.
Faeon watched the demon for a moment atop the roof of a building before jumping down quietly and advancing towards it.
A low growl escaped from the crumpled body of the demon. Slowly and painfully it picked itself up and ran at Faeon in one last desperate time.
One slash, two slashes, three slashes. The demon fell apart; both its legs and arms were severed from its torso. Faeon followed up with another slice and the demon fell to the ground again, this time dead.
"Go back to Hell," said Faeon before walking away. His scythe melted into gaseous clouds of black vapor and scattered. His form receded into the darkness of the night.