8 - video;
[Another video starts up, but about all it records as the minutes tick by is darkness. Some pitch black, shapeless space. There is, at one point, a thin line of light and a flash of color, then the NV shifts and the picture cuts to darkness again. Throughout the entry, there's noise. At first, it's little more than a low rumble, like thunder heard from afar. Eventually, though, that sound is joined by something more metallic, a sharp ringing that starts and stops, fluctuating constantly in pitch.
This carries on for several moments before finally fading into silence. A beat later, a voice picks up where the clamor left off.]
You will be... This is your... end.
[Action Option, Sector 4]
[The Sentiment's been wandering the streets for days now. His awareness of his surroundings is hazy at best: traces of the seal he locked himself into thanks to Xehanort's deception flicker around his armor, sparks of red light coursing across the metal every so often. The magic keeps his thoughts disjointed, meshing old memories and emotions with new ones. He may have the strength needed to shake off the seal, but he can't seem to focus enough to cast his will against it. So he keeps walking, the power that sustains him as disjointed as he is lost in the vaguely-familiar world around him.
His movements are stiff, at times uncoordinated. The Keyblade scrapes against the ground when he forgets to hold it up. As he nears the corner of one street, he stops and turns, going back the way he came with an irritated jerk of his helmet. Halfway up the road, he pauses again, realizing belatedly he just checked this path for his enemy's presence. An especially deep clang resonates from within him...
Only to be interrupted when a Darkness monster collides with his back, tangling in his torn cape, its claws scraping metal slick from the rain.]
This carries on for several moments before finally fading into silence. A beat later, a voice picks up where the clamor left off.]
You will be... This is your... end.
[Action Option, Sector 4]
[The Sentiment's been wandering the streets for days now. His awareness of his surroundings is hazy at best: traces of the seal he locked himself into thanks to Xehanort's deception flicker around his armor, sparks of red light coursing across the metal every so often. The magic keeps his thoughts disjointed, meshing old memories and emotions with new ones. He may have the strength needed to shake off the seal, but he can't seem to focus enough to cast his will against it. So he keeps walking, the power that sustains him as disjointed as he is lost in the vaguely-familiar world around him.
His movements are stiff, at times uncoordinated. The Keyblade scrapes against the ground when he forgets to hold it up. As he nears the corner of one street, he stops and turns, going back the way he came with an irritated jerk of his helmet. Halfway up the road, he pauses again, realizing belatedly he just checked this path for his enemy's presence. An especially deep clang resonates from within him...
Only to be interrupted when a Darkness monster collides with his back, tangling in his torn cape, its claws scraping metal slick from the rain.]