LastLight

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Stello's reverie endured for quite some time. It was deep enough that it could be said the environment around him had disappeared, but that wasn't necessarily true. The trance that he had immersed himself in had absorbed everything else that his senses perceived. These scents, sounds and architectures were actually drawn unto itself and made a part of it, ultimately transforming it all into something else, something that these newly discovered moral understandings would forever become associated with subconsciously. "The Law of Attraction. Our feelings, words, thoughts and actions produce energy that attract like energies. Positive energies attract positive energies while negative energies attract negative energies. This demonstrates how we are responsible for creating the things, events and people that come into our lives." Being the obstinate sort, he found pleasure in the idea that these energies he exuded would dictate the shapes of the aspects defining his life. It made him feel like there was a greater sense of control and all it required was effort, of which he had vast wells of. As he flipped a page, one of the sounds around him reached out, cutting a clear path through his deep ruminations on its way to reach him and he snapped back into the present. His head turned softly, both eyebrows raising as he speculated on the fellow approaching him. After taking in his choice of garb and the way he presented himself, it became swiftly clear that he wasn't law enforcement. Although that knowledge kept the edges round and smooth, the way he sat in his vicinity and made an effort to establish some sort of communication between them made him wonder what his intention could be if not to tell him to find a more appropriate place to relax and do some reading. "Good," he responded. The greeting was met fluidly and without aggression. The question, however, garnered a pause, one that he took to readjust his head on the bundle of blankets that supported it. "I'm layin' on it," he assured in an unnecessarily roundabout way. Had Mark been a Custode Guardian, he may have seen fit to procure documents of ownership. "Friend of mine over in my home town of Hell's Gate is a mechanic. She builds these. We call them Range Prowlers. They make the wilderness your bitch when you’re on the move. If you're interested, let me know and I'll fix you up with what you need to get in contact with her.” Closing the book, he finally began to sit up, revealing an eye grabbing depiction of a black anvil on his shirt supporting a glowing red billet and releasing bursts of brilliant red particles after being pounded by a hammer. Black Anvil Hymn, the title of his shop, hovered low and to the right of the design. Now that he was up, he reached for the ball cap hanging from one of the handlebars and swept a mass of black hair to the back of his head before restraining it with the hat, visor facing backwards. “I’m not familiar with your accent so you must be a local. Picked a good spot, didn't I? The sun's real pissed off today." Turning towards the rear side of his prowler, he reached for a small compartment built on top of the rear fender and opened it. The inside was packed with ice that had been there a short time, leaving a cold puddle of water with chunks of ice drifting on its surface. From within, he procured two bottles of water, each with lemon slices floating inside. Small particles of pulp had freed themselves and now swirled around freely. They weren't sweetened but the lemon wasn't so concentrated that the drink was sour. It lent its flavor to the water in subtle fashion. It was clear he had prepared the beverages himself. The thick layer of condensation and cold water that dripped from them made them a tantalizing sight in the heat. The first one was gestured in Mark's direction before being tossed for him to catch and the other he kept for himself, twisting open the cap and drinking from it in gulps. Then he settled it over his lap and peered at his company. "I'm Stello Lavis by the way. I'm a Terran citizen. Read about this place on the news and decided to come out and learn more about the Order." Now that he had read about the laws of nature and the universe, he was curious to know if whether the doctrine trickled down from the higher ups of the Order to the citizens and if so, what level of dedication it was adhered to with. "Do you believe in this stuff?" To clarify what he meant, he held up the other book he'd been reading for Mark to see. It was a volume depicting in great detail each of the laws of nature. "The laws of nature?"

Cad's response about the way he had deciphered an alien presence in the area was pleasing. Out of all the races Nur had encountered thus far, he had found humans to be the most lacking in terms of sensory perception. His partner had proven to be a rare exception. The initial difficulty had been surmounted but as he watched the inner deliberation unfolding in Cadmium's mind, he knew what the next challenge would be. It'd be the struggle between instinct and intellect. Nur had a tendency of relying on the former and he'd found that civilized folk had a tendency of relying on the latter. As he watched Cadmium pick up the fish and carry them towards the watchers, he felt the desire to follow, mostly because it didn't appear to be safe for him to be meeting them alone. By then, he was already in a state of suppression, having already been doing what he could to appear unaware and passive so when he decided not to follow alongside Cad, it never showed. There wasn't a withdrawn step, only relaxed attentiveness. He also didn't recede from the moment in any way, refusing to make it appear as though he was eager to remain safely at a distance while another took a risk. Meanwhile, he hoped that none of the others would do so. Meeting the watchers with numbers would likely be seen as an attempt to secure safety in numbers, which in and of itself could be construed as a display of dominance. When the Ulway emerged from the darkness of the jungle, Nur watched and was equally as shocked as Cad when they met his statements in Terric. Suddenly he wished he had gathered more information on the previous excursions into Amalia. Maya pointed out that people had returned stricken with hysteria, meaning their experience here had been horrifying. How could it have gone so wrong if there had been no language barrier in place? The only answer he could conjure was that their assessment process was likely to be rigorous. Just as he was wondering in what way that might be, he found out. A tiny hand gripped the cloth of his pants from behind, at first cautiously. All along he had been worried about the sounds of the river and how they could be sufficiently loud to obscure an ambush. Any other time he would have whipped around and dug his nails into it but he resisted the urge. The others, Maya and her bodyguard, should have been sharing the same uncomfortable experience at that very moment. Only Nur's eyes moved when he felt it climbing onto him, gripping the collar of his vest to ascend to his shoulders, where it sat itself and peered into his face. Immediately, he felt disdain towards the exercise. This didn't feel like assessment, it felt like provocation. Any fool would have responded with immediate aggression. The sentiment endured until he noticed something. It wasn't holding its spear. He gleaned greater clarity from that and hoped the others had done the same as him. If either of them retaliated with violence, Nur felt that his best option would be to remain passive, otherwise the survivors would risk going back to the mainland sick with hysteria. "I. Am. Nur. The. Feral. Diplomat. Of. Terran. Military." Though there was no firmness in his tone, his introduction had come decisively. Every moment of the meeting was under deep speculation and every display of transparency, he believed, would at least be viewed as good faith, much like the fish and the lack of aggression. "Diplomats create beneficial relations between groups, but we already have everything we need. We need no more benefits." Being so close in proximity, the shoulder climbing Ulway's deep bass was unpleasant to Nur's ears. Not only that, but the statement itself was difficult. Nur's eyes shifted left and right . . . and then he answered. "Diplomats. Sometimes. Only. Want. To. Say. Hello."

As Lex's theories began to make sense of his musings, Stello nodded to show his acknowledgment of it. Earlier he was contemplating that this place hadn't been constructed by any two legged beings but with the discovery of these stairs, that seemed less like the truth. As he pondered further what else that could mean, his hand raised to rub his nose, which had been victimized by Ioreth before the descent into the tomb. It didn't hurt so much by any means but he could still feel the pressure as if it had happened more recently than it actually had. He felt forgiveness the more he contemplated it. Despite the light bump, she had been very helpful and friendly since they'd met. He could say the same about Lexicus. Without him, Godric would still be runn-- crutching around without a leg, devoid of purpose and dignity. Because of these new acquaintances, he had also met Hanya and Aldorto. A pang of guilt struck him when he recognized that, remembering that he had rudely asked the former to change the color of her prowler from red to blue, rejecting her eye for aesthetics on top of building a desire for additional modifications that betrayed the work that had already been put into it. She didn't deserve that. The step that marked the end of the stairs was taken with care thanks to his wild imagination. When Ioreth mentioned traps, one of the things that occurred to him was pressure plates. He also carefully surveyed the walls for small apertures that could release poisonous darts or spears. He was armed with holo vid knowledge. So far, there weren't any. Other than that, he trusted Lex to have his back. "This place feels like it wants us dead. I could easily say I wouldn't be dealing with this shit if it weren't for you but then that'd mean I'd rather not have crossed paths, and it's been a pleasure so far." Eventually, he turned around to peer into Lex's eyes to add weight to the statement. It was about when he turned ahead again and began pacing carefully that the tomb started to become warm. No, not the tomb . . . but the stairway that they had just entered through. Considering Lexicus was bringing up the rear, he might feel it more acutely, like the sun's rays followed them down the steps on a perfect angle and had been shining against his plate armor long enough to heat the metal. "Can you see? I can glow brighter if you need me to. It'd be real shitty if you ended up in a spike trap." A few steps after rounding the first dark corner that they were presented with, they came across markings on the walls. Perhaps surprisingly, Stello was able to vaguely recognize that these were runic markings. They resembled shapes and symbols that he may have spied on a weapon or two during his studies but identifying the society they belonged to was well beyond him. "Check this out," Stello remarked, pausing and leaning somewhat close but never touching them. Meanwhile, a patch of about two inches by two inches on Lex's backplate had caught aflame but lacked the conditions to spread too swiftly.

@Fennis Ursai Pretty soon, Stello had more than just music to rely on for direction. The singing stopped, allowing the voice to be used to address him instead. Upon laying eyes on Momentum, he was hit by a wave of uncertainty. Blue skin, horns and even tails were common enough in Terrenus that they shouldn't have drawn much consideration out of him but his instincts, for various reasons, had been evoked. They told him that not all was at it seemed, that this place was everything but familiar. Naturally, the life energies he possessed blossomed. Although it empowered the whole physical threshold of his body it did something especially peculiar with his vision. The essence that covered his eyes with a fog served as contrast for other energies he surveyed. Because of this ability, the relationship between a living organism and its life essences had been an innate understanding for him his whole life. Life essences were sustained by the presence of a living organic mechanism, in other words a body. Plants and animals possessed them as well. In the not so distant past, he had unexpectedly borne witness to the nature of the undead. They were the reverse. He found that corpses that continued to roam the land of the living relied on persistent bodies of necromantic energies to sustain themselves, not the other way around. Considering his understanding of life had been so consistent for so long, it had been the equivalent of encountering water that was dry to the touch. Something entirely wrong. Or perhaps not wrong, per se, but certainly . . . unnatural . . . but even that was a difficult term. It required rumination of its own. All said and done, he found himself eager to glimpse more different lifeforms than he ever had before. The hope was to understand and so he leveraged the sight on Momentum, looking to peer into the relationship of his body with his soul, aura or whatever it was demons possessed. What would he see? He didn't hide the momentary perusal. He didn't feel any reason to and once it was done, he smirked, continuing onward while responding. "Wrong place if I'm here for academic learning, maybe. I'm just here to understand a buddy of mine a little more. He thought coming here would be easier than explaining things. Already I gather a little something." Dragging a chair away from one of the tables he spun it before him, sitting down on it and folding his arms over the top side of the backrest. He looked entirely at peace and eager to engage the demonic bard in some back and forth banter. "One day I was hanging around my shop minding my own business and a guy shows up on an ox driven cart. He started talking to me about how he heard good word and was interested in working with me. Turns out he crafts some sturdy stuff, so I welcomed him aboard. He was real secretive about his origins though. We've gotten to know each other a little better since and we got to talking again. This time, when mention of where he comes from came up, he gave me this card." Reaching into his butt pocket to retrieve his wallet, he procured the playing card with a flashy flourish and held it in a way that Momentum could see it clearly. "He said if I followed it, I'd become better acquainted, so here I am." @Grubbistch and Lexicus Despite Al's size, Stello was surprised to find that his steps were quiet and light, probably attributed to his expertise as an assassin. This was something he realized while watching him pace around the room, shrouding the room in shadow. While wondering why such a thing was necessary, he came to the conclusion that perhaps it isolated the patient from the rest of the environment. It left nothing remaining that might distract the eyes. With every piece of added information, Stello's expression changed. First his eyebrows raised, then his lips pressed together, then those very same lips tilted on a soft axis. "Damn, triple threat . . . Mouth, nose and tail bone." Drugs that slowed down the perception of time sounded intimidating, at least if used for evil. If taken during moments of ecstasy, however, maybe it could be good recreation. The idea was struck down almost instantly, however. He was a firm believer that euphoria lay in sobriety. "If he wasn't going to fight the anaesthetics before, now he sure as hell will. You've put the idea in his mind. It's up to him though, I guess. I can whip up something to restrain him with just in case he hallucinates and we all assume the forms of menacing snarling werewolves with teeth so sharp that meat just falls off the bone of its own volition rather than being torn off." Pause. "Oh wait."

They had reached the river and yet, neither of them felt as though they were out of harm's way. Silence reigned between them that endured for quite some time, as if awaiting another unwanted encounter. Every now and again one of them rode over a bump and the others would whip around to see if it had been the sound of a landshark emerging from the deep to attack. Nothing. Bit by bit, Stello's concerned expression faded, swiftly replaced by a smile and abrupt raucous laughter that might have sounded like the nightmare was starting again. "Great swinging pair of nuts WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?! Those things were beasts!" Severe as the words were themselves, there was a small tinge of glee in his tone. His index finger freed itself from the throttle before pointing in Ioreth's direction, who was off to his left. "Lep did you see her?! She really had a time of it back there! Ms. ( enter mocking imitation voice ) I find supernatural beasts more agreeable than highwaymen. If we ran a contest for saying the word shit as many times as possible in ten seconds, you'd snatch that cake up so fast. If you had one of those things on your tail, at least!" As luck would have it, someone hit a bump and Stello's expression went from grin to shock in an instant. Once he confirmed that it wasn't a threat, he quieted down and squeezed the throttle, eager to put a few more miles between them and the landshark den they left behind. A couple of hours into the next segment of their expedition, which was peaceful fortunately, Stello found himself riding along at peace and in silence. The whole time he'd been hearing a bevy of things. The motors of the prowlers, the tires blazing a trail through the dirt, the river streaming next to them and the wind shifting occasionally. All of it gradually coalesced to become one singular sound; the sound of them traveling through the wilds. Then another noise began to manifest, easing its way into the symphony and subtle enough to be easily mistaken as part of the sounds that had already been consistent for some time. As it got louder, the notes that distinguished it from everything else became more evident. It grew from bashful static to rushing water and then to water being torn asunder. Stello turned his head when it formally greeted the senses and raised his eyebrows after identifying what it was. A compact trimaran vessel was navigating through the river, sailed by a beautiful dark skinned woman with a delighted smile on her lips. She waved at them. Stello couldn't help but wave back awkwardly with a look of disbelief as she streamed past, aided by the flow of the river and the blessing of the wind. The sailor was still within their periphery when the encampment came into view. It was marked by those sea faring vessels Ioreth mentioned and next to that along the riverbed was the beginning of a field pocked with giant oyster shells from a bygone era. Their lifeless forms protruded high off the ground, some of them over fifty feet tall and angled in such ways that many could be used for shelter. Several traders set up shop beneath them, selling exotic items that they cultivated along their itineraries as nomads, landshark hide being one of them. Slowly but surely, they heard music and then they arrived. Stello removed his helmet and rested it on the handlebar before beginning to remove his flannel long sleeve. It was almost ritualistic. "This place sure looks alive. I get the idea that the people here really know how to throw a party."

Son of a bitch

"Our duty is restrained only by the laws of nature and the rules of the universe." -Founder Dithakar Yodsuwan, Master Knight Dawn Komturie was shaping up to be quite a sight. Its monolithic presence could be seen miles away even though the construction phase wasn't yet completed. The craftsmanship displayed all around was sophisticated and their approach towards aesthetics appreciable. Throughout the years, however, many societies had come and gone, several of them disappearing without so much as a whimper. The marks they left behind varied in how deeply carved into memory they were, some taking decades before the passage of time buried them beneath the procession of historical course and others much less. In the next few years, the fate of the Order of Force Majeure as it was known on Valucre would be lain bare for all to see. Whether good, bad or irrelevant. So far, they had succeeded in generating a few waves. During the invasion of Last Chance, soldiers from the Order had been declared present, and were said to have played a contributing role in the defense of the city. That much was mentioned in news articles everywhere and considering the chaotic state of Valucre, which had left so many cities in upheaval, there were people flooding to the Komturie in droves searching for refuge. In fact, many of the newly appointed initiates had likely joined out of necessity. When Stello arrived, the very first question he had to answer was if whether he was a displaced refugee, to which he responded no. Then he was required to submit identification papers. After producing them, he was allowed entry and now he'd been wandering around seeking to understand. The Citadel explained much but if there was something about Stello that never failed, it was his thorough nature. He had parked his prowler, a beastly terrain bike, underneath a shaded area outside the Citadel and laid down across it, using a bundle of blankets to soften the surface. Two kickstands allowed it to sit perfectly upright, making the whole set up possible. He was dressed well enough not to look like a squatter but at the same time, it might not be surprising for the city guard to come along and ask him to move eventually. As he lay there, he was in possession of two books, one which was currently held in both hands and the other resting flatly on his chest. Both revolved around moral philosophy, a topic he found to be deeply invigorating. There were times he wanted to yell at the words, sometimes in approval and other times in question but although he withheld being vocal, he sometimes gestured at the specific passages that evoked his spirit with a one hand as if to say that the answer to life's questions had been here all along. "The Law of Polarity," he spoke quietly. "This law states that everything is on a continuum and has an opposite. We can suppress and transform undesirable thoughts by concentrating on the opposite pole. This is the law of mental vibrations. Fucking genius. I've been doing this shit all my life."

Divine Showers by Cloise Gonzalez (TDW) - During the early hours of the morning, reports of a necromantric plague spreading across Casper began to surface. Details were somber. Citizens were being devoured by creeping puddles of necrotized human remains, swept into landslides of gore while many were sustained by the power that wrought this evil. As city officials and the government launched counter operations to combat the spread, reports surfaced of plagued individuals becoming bloated and bursting bodily, spewing infectious fluids in every direction. The tragedy evokes recent struggles like the slaughter of the citizens of Tormo, the attack on Last Chance and most recently, the complete disappearance of the citizens in Ashville. It's difficult not to look at all the terrible things happening in Terrenus and escape a feeling of uncertainty. For many people, including myself, it sometimes feels like a matter of when. When will calamity erupt around me? Around those we hold dearest? When will it destroy our lives as we know them? Just under an hour ago, communications with Casper were lost. It was believed that the city was being systematically shut off from the rest of the world as the government prepared to purge the infestation by any means necessary. That was until more reports came in of what are being referred to as divine showers. The skies over the city had been cloudy for most of the week but rain had been sparse, until now. It is said that each droplet glows like a star and when they explode against the surface, small flecks of light float around it like snow. It is believed to be helping fight the plague. Explosive military ordinance can still be heard erupting throughout the city. The break in communications, which may be as a result of the rain, also contribute to the enduring uncertainty of everything going on but one thing should be certain for everyone watching. There is hope.

Loving these articles everyone. They’re so neat to have on hand

It wasn't too much of a shock that Maya felt she needed more time to answer the question he'd posed. Nur identified that it was a loaded question . . . for those with a civilized mind, at least. For him, his own greatest achievement had reigned supreme in his mind for so long and to this day filled him with a sense of accomplishment that he could never forget it or miss an opportunity to recite it. But since then his life had changed. Every day he spent away from home, the smaller home appeared to be. Not in terms of square miles, but relevance. Substance. Inside, he was at constant war with the new things he learned about society. The fact that he was here, fulfilling a role in the Terran military intended to protect the citizens of this country, was clear indication that his mind was more open than most of his brethren. It was even apparent in his garb. These days he no longer tugged disdainfully at the fabric covering his torso, eager to feel the free air blowing against his bare skin. This constant resistance, though it hadn't stifled his potential for growth so far, served as a strong force of diffusion in the reaction that was still a work in progress within. There was no telling what form the resulting pattern might take. After arriving at their chosen campsite next to the stream and Cadmium suggested he and Maya forage in the surrounding area, Nur held an opem palm out to Maya, signaling an immediate halt. In addition, he shook his head, expression firm and unforgiving, often mistaken for disapproval. He had returned nearly an hour later with loads of fire wood but absolutely nothing else. Were this not a mission, he would have been content to try almost anything here, ranging from leaves, tree bark, unknown berries, birds or even insects. His body had a way with sickness, his immune system robust enough to make testing unknown resources personally a perfectly viable option, but not always without requiring periods of recuperation. That was why after he and Cadmium put out those fishing lines, he made it clear he'd be the one to eat first. As Cadmium voiced a hunch that they were being watched, Nur was in the water washing away a day's worth of grime. His body language didn't change either, retaining the same grace and strength as when he had first arrived. It wasn't by any means forced rather than a part of him. That he was strong and sturdy played a role in how he carried himself. Upon emerging and dressing himself again, he approached the group. "How know?" After having set up camp, he ensured not to go around sniffing the surroundings. Never once had he held his nose to the air and drawn in the scents swirling around camp. He had done so with the intention of witholding his olfactory prowess from would be scouts so that they would not take measures to avoid his detection but little did he know, those on Amalia who would be inclined to watch relied on more than just their eyes and he'd been working hard against his instincts to sniff nearly the entire time. "If. Correct. Two. Choices. Act. Like. We. Don't. Know. Or. Acknowledge. And. Offer. Fish. I. Say. Offer. Fish. Show. Can. Build. Home."

Stello's casual approach to his banter with Ioreth did a mercurial about-face when mention of Godric's leg surfaced along with the involvement of what was clearly not a form of ice cream treat. He squinted his left eye, scrunched up his nose and flared the left side of his lips, expressing severity at the thought. Consideration of their attraction to unresolved feelings was internal, however, and silent. He wondered if they would actually come for him, drawn by his uncertainty regarding the pillaging of a dead smith's tomb. The further she went with her explanations, the worse things seemed to get. Elaboration on the moon and the hills' effects made his brows knit closer, urgent attention given towards the prospect of he and Lex going on a humping spree. He couldn't have that. "So then we should feel blessed that Vulkan's not alive and horse kicking anymore. Wouldn't want to wander into the lair of a horny hermit smith centaur with a birthing tool big enough to look like a fifth leg. Tch, if I have things my way, the rumors will stay a mystery, sorry to say." His eyes flared upon realizing something. Whatever it was, it made him turn back to glance at her, his expression becoming threateningly eager, "But if you're really so damn curious to find out, why dont you let Lexicus baby sit the bikes and wait until nightfall with me? We should all strive to reap what we sow, eh?" His attention shifted on over to Lexicus. "Another? This is my first one. And Vulkan wasn't a minotaur, he was a centaur." Thoughts of traps awaiting them didn't trouble him so much but that was probably because he wasn't exploring among them just yet. Regardless, he concurred with Lexicus by pacing in his direction to begin their work as he addressed Ioreth one last time. "If I don't contact you by nightfall, send help. Tell them to bring a crowbar to pry us off each other." Once the two smiths had departed, Lexicus was in charge of navigation. His clear memory of the map that Ioreth had given him led them further into the valley of hills where everything looked very similar. Though each and every one of these hills differed in size, it was that constant variety that created a feeling of normalcy as they looked on. When they came upon what they were searching for, however, the trick behind how Vulkan's tomb had successfully remained hidden for so many years became clear. "Shit, no surprise it was built into one of the hills," Stello commented, one hand resting on his hip as he surveyed. "This hill probably isn't even naturally occuring. Could be man made, or centaur made, whatever." From afar, Vulkan's hill was just one of the thousands of round green protrusions rising from the earth covered in greenery. As one wandered closer, however, the greens that covered it became more like vines. The larger spaces between these vibrant emerald bodies were virtually invisible from far away. What they were looking at was a protrusion of dirt lifted into the form of a bump and draped with plant life that covered it but never devoured it entirely, and the entrance was a small dark maw on the southern side of the hill with vines hanging over it. Stello descended calmly and carefully. Nevertheless, the dirt beneath his feet was dislodged and formed a mini landslide that swept him into Vulkan's tomb. When he landed inside, he was standing on hard ground, his entire body glowing green like a leaf that held the burning sun captive within it. Glancing down there was a long set of stairs, which, after touching base with Lexicus, he began to follow down. Illuminated by the glow of his own spirit, he was safe so far. It wasn't until he had taken a few dozen steps that something floated into his mind. "Say, you think Ioreth got this right? Cause why the fuck would a centaur build stairs into his tomb? I mean, I appreciate it . . . but I imagine this should have been built like a ramp, right? Either this didn't belong to him previously or he was all domesticated like. Biped centric."

Sure thing! I’ll let Fen know