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  1. Matte’s blood had been spilled. The child of Gaia’s blood, had been spilled at the entrance of the prison. While the arrow plunged into his shoulder was no (super-)laughing matter, Matte (or the one who became him) demonstrated little of the shock and pain razing through his body. As Yshmael ushered the ones Matte’d proclaimed innocent upstairs, the arrowed one made his way back toward the entrance. Even from here he heard his misunderstood quarry proclaiming its excitement over planting a blow on the enemy. Left thumb and forefinger pinching the metal arrow at the point nearest his chest, right hand wrapping around its length, Matte focused for just a moment. Emanating blasts of the innate energy flowing in his blood was easy, but a concentrated burst of explaudere was something different. With a quick twist of his hand and a loud pop, the arrow snapped cleanly about an inch from his shoulder. For now, keeping it there was the option he opted with. Matte stood just around the corner nearest the prison entrance as Lonnie proclaimed his victory. His crystal had already scoped out the shooter’s location, so anything that gave the bandits even a modicum of information after that was just for courtesy and amusement. "But did you kill him, shithead? Or did you expose yourself?" A red crystal floated down from an indescribable point in the black sky, observing the brief interaction. It waited, hovering between the bandits and the prison until they composed themselves and looked back down the sites. Before they could even ask what it was they were accosted with red beams of light that singed their eyes, faces and necks. With the bandits stirred up by the crystal’s commotion, Matte knelt in the middle of the entrance and clasped his hands, chanting over the blood he’d spilled earlier. As bandits rounded the corner at the nearest block and the others above recovered from the crystal’s attack, he completed its recital. What looked like a succession of six stairs rose from the earth and concealed the entire chasm that was once the doorway to the prison. These stairs led to nowhere, the upper levels of the prison having no windows. The staircase was solid, resolute, composed of the same stone on which the town settled. Instead of storming the prison as planned, after a moment of the first bandit brigade staring in confusion at the stairs, the lowest one trembled. Then it shot out toward them, chopping down at least a dozen of them at the knees. Horses and men fell amid a shower of cries while the remaining stairs fell to the ground after their base shot out from under them. The bandits recoiled. “Where is the Mowgul?” Matte’s voice came from behind the earthen staircase; amplified by the vibrating earth that composed it itself. "Hey you," said a seasoned grunt scattered from his nightly patrol to Jericho. He didn't know who this guy was, but he wasn't wearing no uniform and this was a restricted area. He pointed a plasma pistol at the guy jiggering with a comms device. "Fuck'r you doing?" Meanwhile, inside, Ysh had to deal with the rising panic of innocents and lowlevel criminals who were largely victim in all of this. "Hey mister, are you guys here on behalf of the Taen Kingdom?" asked a young woman, obviously scared for her life. This statement, instead of asking for Gaia herself, showed how dissolute the world had become in recent years.
  2. just sent the longest pm ever. Check it out!
  3. LOL I was already looking at this when I got tagged, amusingly enough. @Noko helloooooo my love! I hope you're doing well with everything goin' on these days. Here's the Dead thread, as it is. Read up and ask any questions you want about the changes! Are you interested in me hitting you with some good guy/Terrenus information too, or would you like me to PM you some more Dead stuff? ALSO are you around for good for now, or is this just a short-term return?
  4. Kalopsia was a relatively new nation. It existed day and night in the shadow of Renovatio, an eternal cloud omitting both sun and moon; looming over it evermore. Some Kalopsians, it was rumored, hated Renovatio just for it being there. After all, it did blot out the light every day for much of the day and hinder the movement of clouds and air currents, forming mutant storms and unnaturally dry stretches of time. For the moment, Aisha Kajal was a peacekeeping force among her people who disdained revolt against Renovatio. Her Raj counterparts? The question was still up in the air as to whether they wished to be peaceful or maybe blow that eternal blot out of the sky. Why, then, had the Dead come? Why did Amraphensbane go to such lengths just to get a single drop of Cain’s ruby red down Kajal’s gullet? Amraphensbane was as smart as he was deadly. After killing those necessary to facilitate his escape, his exceptional care in avoiding murder and disposing of any citable appearance paid off; the sometimes compuslary but for now placated assassin found himself free of both observation and pursuit by the enemy,. He would have a great view of what happened next from under an overhand. "Stay safe, and watch what happens," was Cain’s response. The black monk become of Cain had, in the efficient span of time it took Amra to clear himself, walked an entire giant star in the center of the crowd gathered before the Rajs. By the time a scene erupted onstage and the public was aware of any danger, his pattern had already been completed. In his star-shaped journey through the crowd, the initially black monk sloughed off glob after glob of his black essence upon the people he brushed up against. By the time a scene erupted onstage, he body had become entirely white. The first thing that happened was an eruption of chaos in the crowd. People with black marks and smudges on them began battering their neighbors, battering each other. The Council’s security gathered around the Five as the chaos ensued. As the chaos grew, a distinct rumbling grew from beneath the crowd. Somehow, the chaos was mesmerizing. Amra would see it unfold in the second after Cain’s mental remark, just like clockwork. Unlike the clockwork, Amra would hear five guns cocking behind him even as the chaos erupted. “Hey you,” said one of the five soldiers, advancing on Amra. He lowered his weapon, showing that he wasn’t sure Amra was the culprit or anything of that matter, just that the man who’d discarded of any bloody clothes was standing in a weird spot for all this going down. “What’re you doing? Move along, citizen!” Meanwhile, Amra would see upon stage all the Rajs recoiling from the growing disorder in their crowd. A merry gathering seemed to already have been soiled. But Aisha didn’t move at all, she just took another sip of her wine while the riot grew before the stage. “Make your way into the crowd,” came Cain’s voice around the same time as the water-bending, gun-toting officers confronted him. “Kajal is ours. Feel free to shed the disguise and do as you please. Mission accomplished, soldier.”
  5. Perfect! We can repurpose that thread for you into a Rabat finding Gaia! Mike is already gonna fly out of the ship and go convert a dragon in my next post. Your character can see that and come over like what's THIS!?
  6. @Shatter Didn't you say somewhere you were interested in this? Poke!
  7. @Zigzag @L E V I A T H A N you're in! I'll get to the point in my conversion thread linked here where my character approaches your character. Unless @Zigzag you want Rabat to join using the IPP thread Toto and @L E V I A T H A N you could join Mike at the end of Fractured Path!
  8. @Sanonymous in 1000-800 BG (that's a long time ago on Val holy cow!) there was a really bad guy named the Witch-King Zengi. He took over a mega piece of the continent using his cronies the Descrators and they basically went on a destruction rampage for years. Odin, who's the first big-time saint of Gaia, ran them all out on behalf of Gaia! Sounds like some good guy stuff to me. Anyway, it sounds like this solved itself. Take care!
  9. I think the essence of everything going on these days...

     

    Is this....

    It ain't easy being cheesy

    1. princeben07

      princeben07

      This is some scary SH*T old friend!!!!

       

      Please be aware but BE safe!!!

       

      ^_^

       

      Benny

    2. amenities

      amenities

      Safe as can be, my man. Don't get the -itis yourself

    3. danzilla3
  10. Are you tired of this godless world where aliens and technology, criminal syndicates and cults run rampant? Sick of all the sickness and desolate about all the desolation? Do you want them damn kids off your lawn? Them evil boomers off your timeline? Gaia the benevolent Terran Earth Goddess is here for you! Gaia wants YOU to join her clergy! The primordial force of good, the very lady of the earth on which you stand, sends one of her sons to grant you— indeed help you grant others— passage into a brighter tomorrow. On top of his daily maintenance of Lacrimosa, tending as carefully as a gardener in Versailles, this hand of Gaia 1) travels far and wide bringing justice to both evildoers and its sufferers, he 2) plants his feet in the face of evil, and he 3) sows seeds of prosperity for the righteous! That's right, it's PeaceKeeper No. 5 Michael Commager. 1) 2) 3) Join the likes of @danzilla3 @The North Wind @Djinn&Juice @Zashiii as we embolden Gaia, Valucre and each other. Join Gaia's clergy under Michael Commager and help us reunite the Terran lands in Lacrimosa once more!! Sign on to join the thread linked below by responding or Ping me (note: the below thread is CLOSED unless you gain permission first)!
  11. "How many crystals??" "I've put one or two in Izral, Casper, the Abbey; a village near the Haunted Glen, one in Nu Martyr, one in the Garden of Nede, a few from Aspyn to Bi'le'ah. There are a couple in the ruins of Weland and Ashville," said the PeaceKeeper, looking at his hands and not the speaker. His smile was genuine, but not overly boisterous. The sky above them was grey with clouds, but somehow nobody was threatened that it would rain. Simply being in the presence of this man promised brighter days to come, even made them feel tangible today. "I'd say there are about 30 of them now. I can only project my image and my voice from them though, maybe burn something with the light concentration if it's close enough. My solid body will always be right here in this skin!" He sat cross-legged on the one bench of a large wagon drawn with perfect smoothness by 30-foot tall bulls. These had been bred from calves in Aspyn, fed on its blessed fruit and nurtured by the best keepers in all of Lacrimosa. Michael was on the bench facing the back of the wagon, a group of a dozen or so individuals ranging from adolescence to old age seated with crossed legs on the wagon floor before him. When they rolled into Last Chance the 15-or-so departed to spread the good word that Michael Commager had come to redeem them. Just as he had stood as Gaia's bulwark against the forces of evil on Last Chance's coast years earlier, Commager now returned as an extension of her continued good will. More specifically, he came to convert the fated prisoners affected by the cataclysm that one day. With their prison and social systems destroyed, Last Chance prisoners will have experienced a great deal of strife since Dredge's attack: lack of food, dangerous criminals being bundled in cells together and uncontrollably killing one another off, deficient and underqualified security who abuse prisoners; etc. "Prisoner 003, get the fuck up." One such unqualified guard clanked his shock baton on the Apostate's cell to alert him that there was a visitor. There were never visitors, there was never food, the Apostate had been bundled with dozens of grubby criminals in the past month, and this was a total oddity to him. When he was led in chains down the hall and into a room typically set aside for interrogations, though, he didn't see someone sitting there in armor. He didn't see a guard. He saw the famous PeaceKeeper Michael Commager sitting there in a grey tunic with grey slacks and black slipon shoes. He was leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach. "What's up?" Said Commager as if they'd always known each other as soon as they were left alone in the room. @danzilla3
  12. @Djinn&Juice @Zashiii Later on, on the actual plot of land where this was all happening and not in a room nobody really knows the location of, a wormy wizard and a luscious Linda accosted the boilerplate billionaire Bentley with their very appearances. The plastic buttons on his shirt crisping together and then oozing down his lapel, as well as his belt-buckle disintegrating obviously added no pleasure to their acquaintance. While he couldn't direct any of his chagrin at the owners of his family, he felt he could direct some at the situation running down his front. "Aaugh—" he let slip before composing himself, responding with surprising aplomb to the wizard's complexion as Reginald reconfigured his appearance to something more palatable. "Nice to meet you! You must be another, ah, erm, another one of my associates! Let's get started." With the skeleton of the mall having risen from the ground, now all it needed was clearance from Lessertown authorities. Reginald and/or Linda were both welcome to join, but by the second week of their acquaintance Bentley felt comfortable enough to tell the wizard in no uncertain terms that he'd need a more.. professional make-up for this appearance.
  13. @Rin "Though still not sure why you let me in your organization. Though probably a better place to hide and do criminal stuff. Esben chuckled. I mean you really don't know me or I know you. Probably better that way. So why can't they know of the organization?" Cain's black figure turned its side to Esben as he spoke, and after the elf spoke there spanned almost thirty seconds of silence where Rose walked behind Esben to a file cabinet and withdrew a single black folder. In that stifling silence, Esben might feel as if Cain could take advantage of his position behind the elf— might be compelled to sever the head of one who asked too many questions— but he was greeted only with the sound of the file cabinet opening and thick paper being shuffled. Only when the cabinet clicked shut and Cain came walking back did he speak. "I don't mind if our footsoldiers go around spreading our name like a badge they're proud to wear, but that's not what you are. And we're not here to make a name for ourselves. We're not even here just to break the law," the black silhouette said, returning to his desk and placing his empty glass beside the bottle with the silence with which he'd placed the bottle. Using both hands to open the folder and remove its contents without crudely wrinkling the paper inside, he slid a piece of paper on the glasslike polish of his desk toward the elf. "We're here to get rich. At least, I am. This is a blood contract binding us together that makes me much more comfortable working with you without knowing you." Reading the contract, Esben would see that all of his demands in joining the Dead (assumably encapsulated by being able to do criminal stuff under a stolid banner) would be met, but that if he ever snitched or sold the Dead out it would mean indescribable, likely fatal Feedback for him. All Dead agents are required to sign one, but this will have been Esben's first meeting with the shadowy Architect. The reasons for Cain's secrecy, as well as the reasons for his direct words with Esben on this occasion were exactly this: The elf Lieutenant was to be put in charge of the largest long-running Dead operation in Alterion. With any luck, this would be a sustainable operation whose intention wasn't to dupe anybody, just to make medicine and other goods under Catalyst Corp and ship those goods worldwide, making tons of money off the venture.
  14. I just wanna say I commend you for staying for the long run! Sometimes a late post makes someone duck out completely, and that makes me sad.
  15. Michael wasn’t short, nor was he tall. His average height and rock solid build allowed him both the utilities of getting low to the ground and extending his full arm’s length. On that day he wore black slip-on shoes and brown slacks rolled up to his knees, as well as a black tunic open at the chest. The morning sun kissed the crown of his head, rainbows glancing across work-tousled strands of his white hair when he looked one way or another. Hovering intuitively around his head was a crimson crystal about the size of a marble. One of its facets seemed to scan and analyze everything in Michael’s path. Hovering around him on foot, a retinue of three soldiers sat casually enjoying themselves. While all of Fracture’s soldiers were dear to Michael, everyone knew the men had pulled one of the easiest duties in Aspyn for this rotation. Guarding PK No.5 was like calves guarding a bull. So they enjoyed themselves, revelling in the sunlight and joking with harbor workers, further instilling the sense that the separate classes of Aspyn are about as fully integrated as it gets. The guards didn’t even look as Commager advanced alone to greet the entourage; but they were ready. Their muscles tightened and in their minds, they were ready to lunge for the newcomers if anything happened. The Wielder of Light lowered his hand as the drawbridge lowered from Addison’s ship. The crystal over his shoulder rose into the air, hovering over Addison’s group as they approached. It would be clear they were being analyzed, but based on the warm expression of greeting adorned by the crystal’s host, the group shouldn’t feel threatened. “Photographs never do someone justice,” said the Peacekeeper as Addison kissed his hand. “It’s good to put a face with all the good work I’ve heard about.” For a man so young, so born in battle, Commager wore the amnesty of a political figure well. He grabbed the hat from Addison, cupping it from the top in his left hand and holding it like that at his side. “And to you!” said Commager to Azelhart, taking the extended hand with his right hand. The expression on Commager’s face was one of complete, and utter awareness. His eyes looked upon Azelhart, but looking within them showed that he was in a hundred other places at once. He wore a tiny frown that wasn’t quite anger or sadness, but perhaps a seal against them. “Even when it seems like the storm has overtaken the whole world, we like to keep it sunny here.” He smiled at his own words. “Anyway, it’s good to see that this undertaking will fall into good hands. Now remember, it's a base on the northern coast. Naval and aerial capability will obviously be part of the base's concern, but another one is housing. Aspyn has almost 75,000 soldiers, some 25,000 of whom have been living in dirt camps for upwards of 3 years. Make them feel at home because, well it is their new home. The last thing that is absolutely intrinsic to all this is transportation. We have what we need to build fast convoys. Hook them up to the Fauxton network so we can quickly respond to threats coming from the south— since this is Bi'le'ah land too and all. Questions?"
  16. Just wanted to say this helps me digest working with Aedos a lot easier.
  17. With construction and military groups already unloading masses of Novonium from Fjord's ships, Michael had made sure to greet the merchant at the harbor. Initially reluctant because his original argument revolved around military presence being so absent in Aspyn, Fjord's worries were calmed by seeing a Peacekeeper in the flesh with his hands in the dirt. If only the blingy merchant could know that the Tumnus who'd stricken the deal was the man himself, perhaps this could all have been settled sooner. They'd needed to convince him to trade them Novonium without seeming like it was the heavy hand of the PK pushing him to do so. "Really 'preciate what you're doin here," said Fjord, visibly placated after seeing Michael help unload for a couple hours. "Of course!" said the Peacekeeper, patting a dusty handprint on fine threads of Fjord's captain jacket. "I planted seeds when this was just a settlement, laid bricks when we became a town, and I'll pour the cement when we become a kingdom." Suited in white armor, this time a soldier and not a clergyman, one of Michael's subordinates approached. He saluted as crisply as possible— after all, Michael was one of the prime authorities in all of Fracture at this point. "Sir, the international envoy is ready." This signaled the need for his presence elsewhere, and from over Michael's shoulder the soldier could see Fjord's disappointment. "Ah, you found them." said Michael, noting the inconvenience before even seeing Fjord's expression. "I thought it might be today. That's good! Mostly.. So Fjord, I do have to go. Don't worry though, I'll leave you in sturdy hands. She'll be here within the hour." @Phoebe Shaking hands and leaving the merchant to brush dust off his coat, the steadfast Peacekeeper continued along his blazing path of righteousness. But first, within the hour between now and when Addison met Fjord, he needed to meet her. As military matters often work, the rank and resume of a good soldier precede actually meeting them for as long as their future associate has their dossier. Michael had never met Addison, but she had done enough around Biazo to warrant his attention. As a wielder of light, Fauxtons were incredibly interesting mechanisms to Michael. He found he could use them when they weren't even turned on, power them with his own magic even. As such, he couldn't help but support their pervasiveness throughout Biazo and Fracture. As the fated soldier with prime responsibility for the rise of Aspyn, he wished only for its protection and growth. At multiple turns Addison had pitched her helping hand in both areas. "Good morning!" he said, half-waving and half-shielding his eyes with his right hand as his acquaintance approached where he stood on the north-eastern end of the harbor. "I wish we had more time to talk, but this kind of dirty work waits for nobody. "Now remember, it's a base on the northern coast. Naval and aerial capability will obviously be part of the base's concern, but another one is housing. Aspyn has almost 75,000 soldiers, some 25,000 of whom have been living in dirt camps for upwards of 3 years. Make them feel at home because, well it is their new home. The last thing that is absolutely intrinsic to all this is transportation. We have what we need to build fast convoys. Hook them up to the Fauxton network so we can quickly respond to threats coming from the south— since this is Bi'le'ah land too and all. Questions?"
  18. missin u

    1. Djinn&Juice

      Djinn&Juice

      Missing u moar
      I've returned for the most part! granted it appears my dear wormy wizard isn't need in the dead anymore 😭
       

    2. amenities

      amenities

      Yes I have semi-to-super strict continued activity demands for the Dead. It's how we stay so dope! But I wouldn't say he's permanently barred. What is your timeline for being back? Do you know with any certainty are you gonna leave in the next year?

    3. Djinn&Juice

      Djinn&Juice

      Well thanks to all this chaos going on I'm on daily, and I'm keeping my thread max to five so I can post frequently. I really did have huge aspirations for Reginald that o never got to see fully realized

  19. I PMed @Phoebe to step in and help us finish by starting the base building in a separate scene! We can finish our scene too or not, but she'll give us some post power and help us start fleshing out a base.
  20. AND THEN THERE WERE TWO Who's next oh I forget @desolate @-Lilium-
  21. Walking into the thickening crowd as a monk with voidlike skin, Cain quietly observed the Court’s extravagant precession to the extravagant stage. It was all so fancy to him, so familiar, so futile. Beneath the monk’s lumpy flesh, beneath the sinew and even deep within Cain’s bones, his bodies both physical and ethereal were altogether different than the pale shaman who’d wandered out of the Wastelands a dozen years ago. How different, though, from eight years ago? Perhaps he wondered if he could do even better than he had with Tia; perfect an art he’d worked before. Perhaps that was why he came to Kalopsia. All the while humming what seemed like a children’s song, the elder made his way into the fray of citizens. Shoulders pressed against him, the acrid and delicious smell of a million bipedal bodies compacted together filling his nostrils. Still he moved toward the epicenter of the mass as the Rajs gathered. None of them spoke to one another. There was no fanfare between them, despite the affections heaped upon them from the crowd. All of them performed formal greetings for one another but there were no gifts or trivialities, each moving quickly to this autograph or that interview, or demanding libations and sitting sullenly as Hasan did. Much observance wasn’t required to separate their distinct behaviors, but Cain watched anyway with his wide eyes. Meanwhile, everyone he touched had a piece of black rubbed off on them. Stopping momentarily to check his position, Cain took a sharp left in his path through the crowd as the drinks were delivered to the Court. One of the first things done was a toast to the good health of Kalopsia. Cain honestly believed it was, too. Unluckily for Aisha Kajal, blood magic as potent and well-prepared as Cain’s went to work on contact. Unluckily for Cain, with that little blood he would only be able to control her for about ten minutes. You see the complications. Still though, the monk walked. He took a sharp right now. Another sharp left soon after. The timing was certainly auspicious enough, panic seeming to erupt from somewhere offstage to the left mere moments after Aisha Kajal took the only two sips she would manage of her wine. Amraphensbane would know Cain had planted a black pad on him somewhere discrete— it was practically a hallmark of their psychic communications at this point. So, the devil willing, Cain would be allowed to hear the ruckus and deduce what Amra had done so far. “Don’t shed your disguise, we just got her,” came Cain’s voice in Amra’s head. “Let me see what you see.” The pad would allow the Lieutenant to transfer an image of what he saw to the Architect. Just as the crafty shapeshifter pounded through the swinging doors out of the kitchen after dispatching of his first foes, he would discover that the scene of his initial murders had drawn more flies than he thought. A dozen soldiers’ heads turned to face Amra at the same time. “Run!” came Rose’s voice, this time a hard command. If Amra engaged with these guys he could get caught, lose his disguise as the chef, or waste too much time. Through the power of thought, he was able to convey that entire message in an instant to Amra. Meanwhile, another right through the crowd.
  22. Someone tag or PM me if you want a response from me— I'm gonna unfollow this for a while.
  23. amenities

    The Dead

    I am always willing to update and renovate if spoken to by the right parties with the right reasons. The Dead is as flexible as it is pervasive. On top of everyone who continually contributes to the Dead, I extend credit both credit and an invitation for edit ideas to the following users for their composition and input on what we have here. @supernal @Noko @Aleksei
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