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  1. Cold.. bitter cold.. it always reminded him of that night. Space invaded in a heinous portrayal of discrimination against mankind. Gaia’s devotees slaughtered by Unnaturals. It was the definition of ironic. There was naught but bloodshed that night. The winds blew through the Wastelands with a burglary of one’s own heat; the only thing more outright bone-chilling was the sophistication the monstrosities took in eradicating the entire clan’s caravan. There was not much more testing than the destruction of everything one knew in life. It either forged something devastating, or it broke one beyond measure. Who was to say one did not lead to the other — No one could. The cold nights reminded him often of that fate-filled night. Walk like them until they walk like you.. it was something the old wives spoke of when telling stories of heroes and how one might aspire to be more like them in character. That night, Yshmael moved in the way of the Three, as a devout Triaditionalist of the Dead Peaks would hope to. Creation of a world where such tragedies might happen less, The Preservation of his people and their way of life, and the Destruction of those who would do wrong in Gaia’s demesne. His strength and will to survive deemed him worthy of their eye and forever cast his path into the defense of all Natural kind. The Triad had endowed him with an unwavering will and a knack for sniffing out dangers in the world, especially Unnaturals, and he had done nothing but hone these things into something that men and monsters alike paled in comparison of Will and sheer Might when the warrior-priest applied himself and his Faith. His loss had indeed broken him, and in return for giving himself to the Will of Gaia, so too was he given an Indomitable Will. In that time of mantling the Triad, he became a vessel to them as they served mutual purpose in his actions. Nothing could have prepared him in even three lifetimes for that night.. And it was that night that propelled his life into the path he now walked. Leaving the sands he and his people had spent generations on was no small task, subjectively or objectively. The Wasteland was vast and the cold encroached ever so far… so much farther than it had in his time as a child. But that was then, and this was the Now. One must not dwell on things they cannot change; another old wife’s advice for letting go. By the Will of Gaia, Yshmael survived and effectively destroyed all of the transgressors in the vicinity. He was among less than a handful of survivors; those who were unfortunately tasked with sending their dead on to the next chapter in one’s life. Once done, he made sure to deliver them to safety. Neighboring tribes in the region and those among frequented spaces gathered to give condolences in the form of words and material offerings. Someone had even spotted his horse in the near on dunes, but ultimately they had been unable to catch it. This left Him with few things left to do but pursue a state of mind and subsequently satisfy the urges set on him by his Faith. “West..” he said to himself. Directly West from the subtle temple nestled into the Dead Peaks he had been born in, and where his family had begun many lives. It had been decided by those higher than him that he head west in order to snuff out as much corruption within Gaia’s realm ashe could. The sands harbored no love, no warmth anymore; neither would he. Mercy was a liability in most worldly professions, and he had no intentions of offering such things to those that would cross him. With purpose and survival driving him, the man had managed to not only head west, but by some divine grace, his trek was made swifter by his horse finding /Him/! It was one of those little things that one ought to appreciate and take to heart. The horse had been scouted for him on his coming of age, which meant to go be among the sands for what felt like a whole year.. maybe it was longer.. shorter? The sands did not keep track of time outside of bottles, sadly. Nevertheless, his horse was home - with him - and had survived what looked to be a handful of abrasions and run ins with either wire or claw. The wounds were healed and tended to by the good work of the Nomad. His hands had been tasked with much as one of the more mature men within the caravan. With horse - and what seemed like a hefty load for a single man to have been moving across the desert with - they were off! They kept a good pace all the way through the Wasteland’s grueling biomes and into the mountain ranges south of the sands. Little activity found their way by means of Unnaturals or those who would give ill intent.. maybe they knew to stay away? No matter, he was across the sands anyways. His hand for reading common was strengthened by years of trade in the outskirts regions near the border and within the desert; a gracious moment he reminisced about when coming across signs after breaking through the border and slipping through generally without hindrance. Blairville The nearest major settlement. Yshmael had finally arrived in the skirts, much to his delight. “Food and a bit of a rest, old friend..” he uttered, rubbing the neck and mane of the decorated horse as he stood from a position of a kneeling bow against the earth. The companion whinnied in response and dug a hoof into the dirt before traversing a downward path through the foothills and mountains leading to the town. He had elected to keep to the ranges rather than main roads out of comfort’s sake until the walls of the city were upon them. Time had lapsed perfectly to deliver the man to the Market in the early morning, having set upon a main road around dawn. Already, the smells of the market hit his nose. Incense and herbs and the burning of wood. The savory foods and beverages hit his nose with mouth-watering flavors and scents. It had been some time since he walked such a large and diverse market. It was here in the market that the man dismounted and walked with a horse that generally did not bother to stretch the reins thin with distance from the Nomad. Yshmael and the horse seemed bonded.. a touching sentiment and also a helpful one. Where the man did not pay attention, the horse surely would bolster detection and security by means of constant vigilance. On and on, they walked as a pair, hardly a full (Roman) pace apart at any point. They roamed the market to gather what was needed, making small talk and even receiving condolences from merchants hailing from the sands. With Provisions gathered for the journey, as well as knowledge of which he learned upon deeper questioning of merchants regarding the settlements to the west and the procuring of a map, he began to fixate on the now. Water, a bit of food and grain split between the two, and a gear check were all addressed. His robes, bound in silks and leather and plate in various areas about his form. Yshmael’s weapon hung from the hip, with a blade tucked into the breast of his robing. Hunter’s Steel, with blessings and family names etched all over. He kept it close at all times. A sentiment and personal defense that brought him security. A scarf adorned his head to keep the wind off his neck, and it draped from his form a bit and covered a light pelt that wrapped over the back of his form from the shoulder down. Riding boots were knocked against the heel of one another to relieve them of crusted sand and mud. The armaments of his father, passed on through generations, even the very robes he wore, were in his possession. He bound them to the horse and kept a spear with it - also his father’s. The nomad’s fingers were decorated with rings of all the members he could identify and recover, however few. Necklaces and bangles dressed his body, bearing talismans and words of power, or so they had been spoken of. Heirlooms and the surviving pieces of many who fell were all he could hold onto aside from memories. Empowered by his faith and compassion for mankind, the trinkets and accessories he bore served to draw in the energies that Gaia and the earth offered to him. It was all that seemed to warm his heart outside of his horse. The nomad smiled at the graceful steed to his left, taking in a deep breath as he reminisced and relaxed for a moment within the market. It was brief, though. He needed to keep moving. Thoughts and images plagued his mind if he was not remaining aware of his surroundings. Dreams had been invaded by ruins and plagued of monsters and sickness alike. Blight on the land struck fear and motivation into his steely resolve. It was his obligation to see it destroyed and prevented from further corruption. Gypsy Market - West End Two Hours to Mid Day With all he needed wrapped up, Yshmael made way toward the western end of the city, taking a decent stride as he led the horse on rather than ride him. Unless stopped or confronted, he would be on his way out of the market and city itself. Map in tow, he moved along.
  2. 16, April 1678AY Archipelago, Garuda-Scarab Thursday, 12:00P.M The word had not reached the newly found island yet that a force of evil was coming. That the people would not be prepared and though they would not be, they had something on their side, a Valentina. But they would still be outmatched. Salsa stood outside the city of Archipelago, as she wondered how things were doing for Jack. He had lost his form to a shard, had the legendary sword and shield that was corroding him. Yet, she was wary as to not letting him trick her. Inside the town hall, elder Ridley Vira Nebulous-Ashlyn had been forming a plan. His maps laid out as his grey eyes stared at it still. The thing was that the demons of old resided here at one point. They changed the subjects--people into creatures, or even demons. The oldest elf family of October remained untouched but for how long? "Ser?" The young elf knight, Vanilla June Zenith October asked as she looked at the elder with pink-white eyes. "Still can't figure out a plan?" "Unfortunately not. Even if the Valentina attacked, and even with the other Valentina helping us--we're still outnumbered." Ridley spoke as he looked up. "Gallus, any ideas to figure something out?" "Well, we do have those soldiers trained from Athentha, plus the Valentina and October houses. We have a fair shot at this, as long as we don't lose the mages." Gallus replied. Ridley sighed. It was a long shot indeed.
  3. Nak’mbu. Valley of the lost. Oasis in the jungle. The location formerly known as: Biazo Swallowtail Geoball Stadium, sponsored by: Sanzang Electronics, home of the Twenty-Second Geoball Reigning Champions, the Biazo Batters. All of these descriptors not quite accurate, each not quite capturing the full extent to which history has left a mark upon the place now called Nak’mbu. Once the widest enclosed space imaginable, formerly torn asunder and exposed to the sun, now encroached upon by vine and undergrowth; concrete once white, formerly blasted black, now colored by damp and darkrot. Once, tens of thousands of cheering mouths. Formerly, the silence of none. Now? A village of some sixty inhabitants, but quiet, still so quiet. The hypothetical visitor finds Nak’mbu only with great difficulty, from the exterior hardly distinguished from the remainder of the jungle. From the east stands of the stadium it is impossible to sight any sign of residence; only on an approach from the north (for the south has long collapsed into a canyon pit) might the first signs of residence resolve to the eye. Leaf-thatched roofs emerge between the trees. Hard-fought clearings grow elephantine yams and cassava. The signs of fire percolate through the foliage. The footpath – note the singular – leads one house to another, all in a chain, for it is easier to tread old roads than to hack new ones from the earth. At the near end of the footpath is the beat-wood clinic of one Isabel Payne. At the far end past the last homes and up the stands is the announcers’ box of the stadium, now one of a handful of vantages from which one may see the sweeping canopy of the jungle and, on lonely nights, glimpse lights flickering from the tops of other towers scattered across the dead city. And one may dream of one day meeting one another across a green-vined eternity of distance. There are other points of note. In the middle of the old freeway to the North has erupted a grand old palm, entirely alone up to an altitude of a hundred feet, on the ground poisoning everything that grows within a hundred yards. Water collects in its roots’ asphalt eaves, attracting the local wildlife and the villagers alike. The animals and villagers do not yet realize it, but palm water is an exceptional abortive, which is why the waters are ever-clear and free of mosquitoes. If our hypothetical visitor should look west, they will see the heart of Bi’le’ah, an emerald glow like some radiant fallout from a weapon long ago. The glow ripples, on dark nights, upwards as a spear thrust from the heart of the world. To the south, a long gash exposes caves from which half-men and unnaturals look upwards, and into which the above-ground visitor may look down. The two worlds are exposed to one another but are not incident, not here, and not now. This hypothetical visitor remains entirely hypothetical. There are, after all, no roads leading into Nak’mbu. It is a lost place, entirely forgotten. Those who find it are just as like to have forgotten what they really came here for, no? Because when they arrive, they will find that they have found exactly that which they remember: Nothing at all.
  4. They had travelled the deep road. Yes, there was the highway. The road that stretched across the land to link their two cities. But the lord Téshuk had insisted against. It was not the way, he had told them, meaning both the literal form of passage, but also the means in which their task was to be done. Their task one that was quite suddenly arranged, at the Governor of Totenborough had realised that 'the time' was upon them, but that his subjects knew nothing of it, nor that they should prepare. But with only weeks to go, they had managed it. Though with all their load to take through the tunnel that led up to the Hydra Scar, and then from there travel westward unto the breach of Lunaris, that was itself another few days of travel. Téshuk had led all the way throughout, clearing by his will any path that could not so easily take the carriages and carts. There was however, a realisation that this was itself part of the tradition - that he and he alone must lead the way. Even when they stopped to rest at nights, measured only by the clock than by sunlight, Téshuk still held himself at the forefront, nor did he slumber; vigilant in his duties as he was able to be. But yes, they had travelled the deep road, and from it emerged, a long caravan that itself stretched for many hundreds of metres, loaded with many goods and decorations. When they arrived at the treetop city, its homes cut from and built into the woodland that surrounded and ran throughout it, there was only one moment of pause, taken by Teshuk to process it all. How the world truly was different and changed from as it had been, however long ago it was that he stood among the living. Still, he willed his entourage on, and they made their way through the streets. The sheer physical stature of Téshuk, along with his presence, and the length of the caravan behind him, drew curious and expectant eyes from all around. Many, sat high within their homes, were content to look down upon and distantly observe the passing, able to follow it for miles with but slight turns of the head. For others, the only way to follow the procession was to do so physically, trailing along behind it. This then only made the crowd grow ever greater, as it became something of novelty and curiosity for those whose days who had become accustomed to outside intrusion representing malice and threat, rather than mystery and fun. They wondered where this giant had come from, and where he was going with all this bounty. The former could answered through whispers that fluttered through the crowd: This was Téshuk, Governor of Totenborough, the esteemed and mysterious Titan himself! But as for the reason of his presence, that remained utterly unknown, and his servants would not share it. That too, was apparently part of the tradition. The procession, caravan and crowd both, swept through the city, heading north west. Téshuk ran his fingers along the vines that raced towards their summit, coating the ancient walls of Cair Loeren. Through them, he made a summons. An act that might have seemed impudent, but it was meant to be bold; in truth as well, he saw little distinction in rank between him and the one he summoned. But as such messages are scarcely hidden in Lunaris, it whipped the crowd into a frenzy. How could he? How DARE he?! Did he not know to whom he spoke?! Yet still, they followed, and Téshuk went. They stopped all at once before withered steps, and before the one who espoused to be lord and master of all the realm. One who had been wounded, yet lived as Téshuk did not. A small being, yet perhaps the only one here who might stand larger than the Titan. The Titan who snapped his fingers, and so beckoned two of his followers to bring up a long chest; from their fingers it lifted, being made of stone, and by Téshuk's will, came to rest at the Regent's feet. The stone that sealed it shut slid away, and revealed within, along a bed of silk, two rings - one of ruby laid in silver, and another of sapphire in gold. Let us be as one. Was the sentiment that came from Téshuk; his will without spoken word. It may have a taken to process, but then, his will clarified that he meant the cities, not him and the Regent as individuals. It would be in the union of cities that they would mark the year anew; the start of new opportunities, and the start of new - or renewed - love. As was tradition. With its confirmation, so would Téshuk's caravan begin their adornment of the city. Shades and filters for the wickblooms that turned their natural light into many colours and shapes. Gifts to the children of the city, a foundation on which they might build new directions and new interests to follow for the year, and perhaps keep with them the rest of their lives. Craftsmen of all arts would share their works, and the skills with which they made them, with the people of the city, gifting these to all - that chose to afford them - rather than just the children. Once each week, for four weeks, as the necessary supplies arrived, there would be a great feast held at the heart of the city, sharing what delicacies and tastes the people of Totenborough had kept from the old world, and what they had discovered in the new. As the people ate then, they would expected to take their loves in hand - whether desired or already held - and dance, promising to each other the prosperity of a new year. Some might have labelled it a festival, but Téshuk did not seem to understand the concept so. Rather to him, this was what this time of year was for. New Beginnings, New Love, and Renewal. Built on the bond of the land, as was tradition. This was, as he spoke audibly but once, with voice like stone grinding upon stone, Wosatnos.
  5. A group of bards local to the village of Modalis are terrorizing the populace. The bards formed a cult called the "Death's Bards", recently trying to spread their ideology violently to the plebians and nobles alike. The attacks have gotten more and more gruesome; however the straw that broke the camel's back was when the bards kidnapped the mayor's daughter and made a public display of using their bardic magic to hang make her hang herself while they danced and sang. The Mayor has put a bounty on their heads with the reward being any piece of land they want in Modalis. Months have passed and nobody who has gone after the cult has come back alive. In fact their bodies were all dropped of at the edge of town with music boxes lodged in their chest cavities, as well as a large smile carved into their faces. The people live in fear of the cult and traders have been avoiding the village more and more as the rumors of the cult spreads. Finally this is where Vivi comes in she heard of these rumors by word of mouth, so in response headed for the town. It took her a week to get their by foot from where she was and by the time she arrived the town was still like all life had been sucked out of it. She couldn't care less about the suffering that these people had gone through, The Mad Bard simply wanted to kill the fuckers responsible for sending people to the afterlife with cheap shitty music. Only she had the right to kill people with music as her music gave people a graceful and beautiful death, but these bards are just sloppy animals... no pests that needed to be eradicated. Although before she could eliminate the pests she had to get a clue as to where they were hiding; therefore, she entered a tavern to question people about what they knew about the whereabouts of the cult. The tavern was just as quiet as it was outside, a depressing town even in the tavern. She sat next to a burly man who seemed to be in his mid 30's and asked him "hello sir, I just arrived in town you see because I heard about this... problem that has been plaguing you people. However I've run into a bit of a problem, I don't even know where to start looking for these bastards." The man looked at her and whispered in a low growl. "Just north of here is where the cult resides, they don't even try to hide. That's how cocky they are." The man then turns away and returns to drowning his sorrows. "I guess I'm going north" OOC
  6. I mean, why not really? I kinda wanna steal all the dragons lol
  7. Emergency broadcast KX-end-of-the-world scenario in progress Valucrean containment foundation This message will now be repeated. . . This is OS-01 of the Valucrean Containment Foundation. We... I, have unleashed pandora's box. I hope one day, whatever gods are out there, may show mercy to my soul. The navy has lost nearly half of it's fleet, the air force fell today. There is no hope of stopping this threat. I only can give a way out for those wanting to escape. I arrived from the vortex at the center of this world. If I arrived from that vortex, there may be a chance that we can escape the same way. We have made 3 arks, to carry anyone and anything. It's our last chance at an exodus. Head to the northern tip of alterion within 78 hours, I'm not sure how long we can hold out anymore. Time is of the essence, this is our last hope of survival. Hurry, plea-... . . . This message will now be repeated. . . "-s Doctor Brett, is anyone there? This is Doctor Brett. I am a researcher from the VCF, god someone please be out there. [Large footsteps in the distance] It's already clear, we already lost, but it may not be the end of all hope. I know it's insane, but we have to get to the place where this all started. Site-800, where we opened pandora's box. There is a way to prevent this from happening, to prevent ALL of this from happening. I have this with me, CS-0078, in site-909. This entire site was to protect the existence of this disk, because this object alone may prove pivotal in changing timelines. I propose we use it now. [Large footsteps in the distance] It can't send us back. As far as I'm concerned, I and whoever is hearing this message is as good as dead, but we can prevent this timeline, this present, from ever existing. If we capture pandora's box, we can send it back in time with a warning. This is our last shot. We will cease to exist, but our past selves won't have to die in this hell. We will have a future. I only have 5 men from Beta-04, it's not enough. Site-800 is 100 kilometres away, we have to- [Large footsteps in the distance] If you hear this, I'm in Last Chance. The site 909 entrance is in the black market, pyre's stall for pyrotechnics. Find the trapdoor leading down, the code to the lock is 2309. Hide under the shade and in the walls. There is 1 titan in the town centre, 16 meters tall. You can't outrun it, so be as quiet as you can. If it sees you, pray your death will be quick. I'll have this message repeat, hurry." [Radio static]
  8. Prelude ”You want to do what’s right, don’t you Norman?” A cold and dark voice pierced the still air of a dusty and darkened room. Sitting at a lone wooden table in said dark room with one dull and dimly light lightbulb hanging overhead was a man of some years. Greying features accompanied by a stern but tired face showed the wear and tear of someone who had held a hard career filled with strife and pain. Upon his person he wore the olive green dress uniform of a guard or military personnel, much like the man it too was faded with the passage of time and hardship that came with it. Changing slowly but noticeably the stern look of a hardened professional shifted to a shape of slight fear and anxiety. He looked down at the wooden table for but a moment, and for the first time in his life, an honest man had blinked. It was all the serpent needed to sink its fangs in. ”You see. Your post, it’s simply overrun with villainy and crimes of unspeakable volumes. Murder, arson, assault, and every day it gets worse. You don’t want it to get worse do you Norman?” Words dripped laced with the false concern of one born of evil and hatred. Someone who only said the words necessary to get what they needed. ”N-No... I don’t want it to get worse...” The man known as Norman said with a shaky voice. ”No no no, of course you don’t want that Norman. You want to bring about a change. But you can’t do that by yourself can you?” The fangs sunk deeper into the man’s resolve as it began to crumble beneath their pressure. ”I want to change it... but the crime lords they have too much pow-“ A swift yet gentle coated in black iron and red inlay jutted out from the darkness and slowly placed the backside of it against Norman’s cheek. ”Shhhhh. You let me take care of them and I promise you a good change will come your way. One of great heft and depth.” Slowly the hand retreated back into the darkness and returned to drop a bulbous cloth sack onto the table. Hitting it with a hard clink of loose metal items, the bag spilled open to reveal golden coins that lay on the table and glimmered in Norman’s eyes. It was all but over now, the man had lost. ”And the best part Norman. You don’t even need to do anything. Just secure the gates after curfew, and don’t let your men have anyone go in or out. There’s a chest-load more of that for you and your men as well. Can you do that, Norman? Can you do that for me?” There was a silence after the voice spoke from the shadows. Norman looked at the gold. Thought of his honor, his duty, his post and charge. He then thought about the years of his life being abused, having his job mocked and spat upon by those he was meant to be above. He thought of his wife and his retirement. The house on the coast. College paid off for his grandkids. Something to leave his family besides a mediocre retirement fund upon his death. He thought of all this, and his decision was made. Taking the bag of gold he clutched it to his chest and spoke five words. ”Yes. I can do that.” An honest man died. Wicker Town Blues Wicker Town Entrance 2100 Hours Rain fell from the sky as horse whinnied and came to a stop. With a carriage in tow we got to see within its confines. Luxurious silk lined seats and golden tassels that hung from plush throw pillows. The entire carriage reeked of money and wealth, of people who had built that on acts of cruelty and violence. People that Dredge tended to enjoy, but had to be dealt with all the same. Sitting at the far left seat of the bench was a man known as Salvador “Money” Felix. One of the crime lords who happened to run a network of gangs here in Wicker Town. With him was his wife of fifteen years and their only son. They had been out celebrating Salvador’s won appeal about a parole violation. Not that it really mattered, but the family seemed to be in good spirits with smiles stretched across their bright and beautiful faces. ”I can’t believe they thought William would rat you out.” The woman laughed as she clutched to her husband’s side. ”Nah, William is solid. Couldn’t crack that guy with a hammer. Just like my little man over here.” The crime lord soon picked up his young son and cradled him up onto his lap. The boy smiled and laughed at his father’s grasp and held tight to him in return. ”I couldn’t go back to Reyer City and leave this tough guy right here.” Salvador chuckled as everything started to go somewhat quiet. ”Why are we stopped? That old git Norman knows I don’t like to be held up.” With frustration in her voice her husband opened the carriage door and looked out to where Norman was. Wicker Town was surrounded by walls and barbed wire fences, and the main entrance had a two part gate where people would be let in, searched, then advanced through the second gate. Salvador found himself and his family within the holding area between gates. Looking around he spotted Captain Norman in his uniform and rain coat looking towards him with cold and hollow eyes. The eyes of someone who knew what was about to happen but could do nothing. Ignoring those eyes, Salvador stepped out and seethed with anger. ”Norman you stupid idiot! I told you I don’t need to be held up! How about some of my boys go and visit your kids at their jobs again, huh! Would you like that you son of a bitch!” Salvador yelled at the Captain to no avail with his stone wall of a face. There was simply a pause between them. ”You’re right. Goodbye Mister Felix.” Norman gave the crime lord a gentle nod of the head before retreating into the shadow of the guardhouse. ”Everything okay, dear?!” His wife yelled from the carriage as she poked her head out into the rain. Salvador turned his body slightly to look back at her. ”Yeah babe, everything is fin-“ A gunshot interrupted the man. Pulling his hands up now covered in his own blood, he looked up from it to see standing there five people. One that stood near seven feet tall and shrouded with dark robes, and on either side of him plain clothed men and women with bandanas over their faces carrying automatic magitech rifles. His wife screamed and clutched their son close to her. ”What is it that they say in your profession? It’s not personal.” And with that the order was given. Brief shrieks of horror were quickly snuffed out by the sound of gunfire and thunder as rain poured down heavier upon Wicker Town. After a few extra double tap shots were fired for good measure, the men who had committed this act of violence had removed themselves from the scene and left only a bullet riddled carriage, a dead horse, and a slaughtered family to bleed onto the wet ground. ”Bravo One this is Overlord Actual, Target Blackbird neutralized. Proceed to targets Hippogriff, Bone Devil, and Drider.” Going out on a secure comms line, the operation had begun. Throughout Wicker Town various teams of plainclothes Legion commandos moved through the mud and rain of Wicker Town. Rows upon rows of slum and poverty stricken buildings lined the roads and alleyways of this town. Three targets remained had been designated to be taken care of, codenames Hippogriff, Bone Devil, and Drider. Leaders of the more powerful gangs here in this forsaken place. Once they were removed and a message sent, Dredge would have control of this town and it’s people. A beacon away from the Cold Mountains to conduct his affairs and see to it that the work needing to be done was handled. Where the man found himself now was on the outer layers of the town, in a place where only the worst of the worst were sent. The barbed wire fields. Chained to posts surrounded on all sides by the jagged pieces of twisted metal were the dammed. Those who had broke the rules of this place and were made example of. Walking up to one of the downtrodden, a Orc whose breathes were shallow and eyes weak. Dredge looked to the man from beneath his hood and spoke. ”Do you wish to be free?” The snake bared it’s fangs once again. The operation had begun, and Legion was ready to make their move to expand here in Genesaris. OOC
  9. Burning Bright There was never really any hope of escaping it. The beast that lurks in the animal brain we are all brought into this world with. Some of us are just better at keeping it in check while others simply embrace and relish in its simplicity. Everything becomes easy and straightforward. Hungry? Eat. Tired? Sleep. A group of warrior monks are harassing and killing some of the people you are meant to protect? The answer was simple. Kill them all along with the innocents that they too love and protect. The Gordoian Knot that was Genesaris’ political scene of different empires and kingdoms was something that Dredge’s animal brain cared very little for, and the best solution when faced with said knot was always the simplest. Cut it in half. Which was exactly what Dredge was doing to the village that lay beneath the steps of the Hoaxin Monastery. Acrid and noxious smoke blinded the eyes and blackened the lungs of those who dare breath it in. Screams of the innocent wailed and lamented deafening the ears that listened. The scent of blood slicked iron and fire could be smelt for over a mile. Death had come to this place. The small village known simply was Hoaxin Village had took its name after the ancient monastery that hover above within the mountains, and soon it wouldn’t be known as anything but as a pile of ash and charred corpses where life once thrived. They had first appeared from the eastern path that lead to the small community. Men dressed in barbaric mismatched armor and covered in the furs of slain beasts. Men with the crazed look and want of bloodlust within their eyes, driven mad by the desire to destroy and burn everything that lay in their path. They came without warning and without any sense or understanding of the words mercy and morality. With the sun beginning to set they descended upon the village with their torches and blades and began to do what they craved so badly. So here we are now. A village beginning to burn from an assault that had begun only but ten minutes ago. Families run through the streets attempting to seek shelter or flee from the attacking horde. Some successfully and others cut down by the jagged blades of wicked men. Yet if one were perceptive enough, they could see something within all the chaos. A seasoned eye for combat would notice that these bandits and barbarians did not move with the mindless rabble that they often did when attacking a settlement. No, it seemed that they moved with the skill and precision of trained soldiers. Teams surgically moved through the streets to corral civilians into a kill zone while others went from house to house clearing them before methodically setting them ablaze. None of it looked like it should, and if they were extra perceptive they could see something deep within the darkness of the mountain’s shadow. Cloaked in dark robes and shrouded in an obstructing ethereal mist, a massive figure standing near seven feet tall in its darkened cloth watched the carnage with deep red eyes that pierced the veil of its abyss like hood. Suppressing his magical energy and hiding his distinctive look, Dredge looked on at the carnage that he had set forth. By his side an elite group of pact-wraiths watched with their emotionless bleak and dead eyes. Shining brightly through his hood, Dredge sported a massive Cheshire grin. There were villains out there with more nuance than Dredge, those who killed and committed evil for the sake of the greater good or some righteous cause. But not Dredge, he could put forth some call to arms about his oppressed people, but when it came down to it he was a monster who enjoyed the death and violence. It created a story, a narrative of good vs evil and life and death! The things that we all come here to see and partake in! It was all so much fun! And if you don’t have fun, then what’s the point? ”Inform the men to leave no survivors and to place their heads and bodies on pikes. I want those monks to see what they have brought on themselves before I end them. When the village is ash I will deal with them myself.” His dark eminence spoke not only with a sense of joy in his voice, but with the matter of fact tone that these Monks and people were already dead and were just walking corpses doomed to meet their end at his hand. ”Let it burn. Let it all burn...” Dredge then just watched the carnage from the shadows and waited patiently for this village to end by his orders.
  10. It was a brisk morning, the sun had just began to come up. Rays of sunlight were slowly peaking up from the horizon to bring life unto the city. There was a light gust that brought in a fairly cold wind, winter would be on it's way soon enough. Some flocks of birds could be seen already making their trip to warmer pastures. Few townsfolk were lining the streets, getting ready for a busy weekend. Just on the edge of town, a merchant vessel, loaded down with building supplies, was pulling into the stables. A large hairy ox was pulling the cart, all by its lonesome. At the reigns was a merchant, Lexicus Thoren to be precise, with his short blonde hair beginning to shine as the sun had struck him. It was the day of progress for him. Flyers had been distributed to the local recruiting hubs and job postings for an armed escort job with business opportunities from a start up company that supposedly was a big business. It was time to meet up with whomever was going to show for the position. Considering how the first job posting had started, there wasn't high hopes. It took some time to remove the harness and unhitch the large ox creature from it spot on the cart, grab a satchel of trade bars and a bag full of documents, pay for the spot in the stables, and pay a bit extra trade bars to add security to the cart's contents, not really that it was needed but it kept questions from arising. Lexicus, donning his regular light plate, was starting to shine some as the sun was reflecting off his armor. The walk to the recruiting site was not going to take too long but he wanted to make sure he beat the rush of folk flocking to the streets. That and being punctual was his preferred style. Lexicus had informed the recruiting hubs to direct anyone that was interested to a local tavern so that way the merchant could get to know the folk he would be working with more intimately and in an open and very informal setting. After all, Lexicus was looking for potential long term employees as well as bodyguards and mercs to work with. All anyone had to go on was his name and a brief description of what he looked like. After a good short 'hike' around the town, Lexicus had came to the tavern, had ordered a large table for business meeting, paid up for the inconvenience of having to set up such a table, and had paid for the tavern's time for hosting an event. It would be a little expense that would be paid back after he would finally get set up in his location for the site. For now, Lexicus ordered a light drink of non-alcoholic house special, in this case being a cold mug of some kind of pint, smooth enough, but not very strong in alcohol. It was close enough. The blonde haired merchant took the time to sit back, take a breather, and compose his sales pitch to anyone that was coming to the business opportunity. It was his hope that he'd get a few bites and could have enough people to not have to call in off world talent to get started. Though, he'd already called for a meeting with his other talents, just in case things went sideways at this meeting. It was still fairly early in the morning to really make a call. Lexicus put a lot of hope into this job, he was hoping it would pay off, for now he waited for anyone to answer the posting he set.
  11. The evening sun's ever reaching light laid upon the span of the Moonwood giving it a beautiful view of it's lush wilds, and it's great people: the Fae, or for better lack of knowledge Fairies. However within the lush wilds remains a roaring river, filled with sharp rocks and dangerous currents that lead out to the ocean. The river itself is big, maybe not the size to add to the map but just big enough to be avoided by careful travelers and merchants should they stray from main roads. The rivers wicked push is followed by many twists and turns, however, a divide created another smaller stream, still as fast as ever. This divide if not the main river lead to many deaths as treasure hunters and explorers trying to reach an all but forgotten place of old. No one knew it's true name, no one knew if any inhabitants still lived there, but tales spanned of an old kingdom hidden beyond the river that once held great power. Whatever happened to it left it but a fairytale amongst children, who's parents grew up with the same tale. Many searched for it and for many years the old kingdom remained a mystery. Only one map was found in an old ruins of Terrenus and the bidder sold it for a high price, skeptical if the fools who bought it would disappear. No one's ever made through that river. And even if they did there was said to be a demon lurking within the kingdom, but archeologists, explorers, and cartographers of all kinds searched for it despite the warnings. And where were they now? The divided river traveled to a large lake, hidden by tall trees and thick brush and at it's end were a cave. Within it, a massive cavern housed a huddled bunch of houses, all leading to a large temple. Above, tree branches covered an open top of the cage, but sunlight still shone through allowing the area illumination. Many birds chirps above, this place perfect for their homes as predators can't catch them. The old kingdom did in fact exist, but much of it was either drowned or crumbled to rubble. The old streets were but cracked stone with much of the flora covered, old buildings either falling apart or barely intact were invaded by vines and weeds. Beyond this sorry state was a large temple, a hundred stairs crawling to it's entrance, and inside through the dark halls is a room. Skeletons of humans and unknown creatures littered it's entirety, a smooth black granite sarcophagus in the center. A purple hue, much like a slow fog, surrounded the sarcophagus as runes at the bottom glowed brilliantly. But they faded in color before disappearing entirely leaving a simple carving. The entire object moved, vibrating just lightly before shaking, slowly the lid cracked and then exploded outward. From it quickly raised a large body of black, the dust and fading purple hue helping its obscurity. A beast of a roar escaped the dust as it cleared up, revealing a tall humanoid wolf. Followed by it's roar, it weild two silver longswords, and followed by it's roar it leapt from the sarcophagus. The beast looked about, it's rage as it looked more around the he entire room. It breathed heavily, and dropping the swords it began to step forward inspecting the surroundings. Confusion began to take root, there was no battle, no one around to hear it's war cry, nothing that would spark a fight. It walked out of the room and into the long dark halls, and as it walked it stepped into a large puddle. It knelt down above it, looking at its own features. Rain Dark was a prophet of the Old Ones, old gods they worshipped and even fought alongside. Prophets weren't meant for combat though, they were shepard's that lead others into their religion, that were much like rulers in a way but still followed orders under the one sovereign. Rain Dark however was different, as he was built more as a warrior than anything. As much of a prophet he was, he led many to war and every time they won. Almost every time. In his own reflection of the puddle, Rain Dark saw the grievous wounds from combat were gone, while he didn't feel it, he was certainly healed to a bare extent. Scars spanned his torso, neck, and arms, no doubt leading up his shoulders and across his back. Bit blocking parts of his chest were rusted chains, heavy and tight, he remembered the reason why they were on but kept them instead of tossing them away, an old tale for another day. The wolf looked lower, remembering the brass plated leather leggings he wore but beared no footwear. He didn't need any boots, too uncomfortable. The prophet then looked into his own eyes, pitch black the orbs were but his irises were a glowing blue. The prophet then continued his way until outside the temple, shocked to see his home, the very thing he fought for ruined and shambled. The realization struck him hard, he wasn't simply pushed into that tomb to knock off his balance, purposefully he was put under some spell. And if correct that the town below was nothing but ruins, skeletons of the once proud people present, even the armor and weapons rusted and missing chunks of their once glorious blades missing. Rain Dark knew he'd been put to rest, had he not, he would have ended like the others. A fluster of emotions swelled, anger, sorrow, grief, and confusion all clouded his mind. How long was the once proud prophet asleep for? We're the humans, orcs, and dwarves gone as well? Rain Dark collapsed to one knee and slammed a fist into the stone beneath, a solid crunch gave way as the ground cracked under the force. Tears began to build as Rain Dark knew the lives that were in his grasp were all gone. Whoever did this were long gone, and whoever did this couldn't pay which only angered him even more but nothing could be done about it. The damage was done, long ago it seems. He stood, wiping away tears looking at everything from above in the cavern. He could still see a time when everyone was walking these streets, where the water was once were massive bridges and a city below. Lupus Sanctauii. A dominant city in its day that rivaled the dwarves advanced smithing and architecture, their might rivaled the orcs, and their numbers silently threatened the oh-so-weak humans. However the day came when an old enemy since the beginning. The Liminias Empire. When Lycarias were brought to the world there came Lycanthropy, which affected the race itself as well, much like rabies. But another race came to be, when Liminias arrived they felt threatened that Lycarias were successful in the world, whereas their violent acts inflicted to their banishment underground by the Old Ones. Since then, they loathed the Lycarias and promised a day when Liminias would wipe out Lycarias. And they held it up well. Rain Dark breathed slowly, trying to get his composure before he could do anything else. After minutes of standing, he walked back into the temple and traveled down a fleet of stairs. The more he looked the more decrepit and ruined the place was. It must have been a hundred years at least, but that never explained the lake in the cave. There are many explanations that could solve that problem, the old bridges that led out were either destroyed or submerged in the lake, and beyond that there was a dim light of a hole. He could only assume that was the entrance to the cave, all the way across the lake. Sighing, Rain Dark reached a circular door at the end of a hall. The door was a solid silver and rusted brown, rust however ruled it's once smooth surface and in its center a shape of a wolf's skull, no bigger than a hand. He was glad the vault was still closed, only he had the key to it around the neck. If anyone was here and they stole whatever was inside Rain Dark would have hunted them down. Eventually. He made his way back up to the main rooms and began to wonder about, investigating the entire temple in its ruin.
  12. After a humiliating defeat in Valinde, Shanna determines that it is best to avoid the Banshee laden city for some time – instead turning her sights upon rumors of a mysterious plant that prospers within the deep center of Vintel. As with any of these forgotten treasures, however, the risk is equal the reward. Shanna is familiar with the risks, and yet that does not stop her from beginning the trek forward into the jungle depths that may or may not harbor her success or her death. Shanna considers her options as she drops onto a pile of vines, leaving the rope ladder of her airship down. After considerable time, she tugs on it twice – allowing it to roll back up into the depths of the ship. Leaving it to hover, Shanna produces a small journal, as notes are of equal importance to success. Moving through the foilage, she finds herself considering what to do with the berries that give life. Surely a few would be sent to Raphael – in the hopes that the King would find himself never bereft of those he loved again. As the mage pauses, her hands quickly tie her hair into a thick plait so that it may not tangle amongst the brush and winding vines. There were whispers that the forest folk did not invite visitors, and Shanna had no desire to incur their wrath, or give them weapon against her. Pen in hand, she continued, pausing every so often to peer at plants and the like, quickly jotting notes and sketching their likeness in the journal. Those poisonous are easily found, for their permeate a foul scent from their dark red pistils. The flower itself is a beautiful, rich gold, stark in contrast to the poisonous sticky goo that drips form their petals. Carefully, Shanna pulls from her pack a jar, and with calculated movements, removes a flower from it's stem and places it within. Sealing the container, it is put back within the pack, which rattles slightly. Hoisting it upon her back, Shanna continues forward with purpose. "Sure is quiet here." A gentle murmur to no one but herself. After a moment, she pauses once more to bow her head and take in the lack of sound that comes from this place. Not even animals dare venture here. There is nary even a birds cry as she listens. Clasping her hands together, Shanna bows her head to pray briefly. "O' God of Blood, To you I pray for safety in this place. O' God of mine, Should I fall - grant me serenity." Shanna lets her hands fall to her sides as a sigh escapes her lips. "And onward we go."
  13. For all its splendor the Masonic temple was hidden on an island off the Golden Coast. In truth, the Temple was the island, considering the monolithic citadel was built into the surrounding landscape and took up a majority of the landmass. If fairy tales and legends were to be believed, the Masons built this temple after putting down the cult of some sea deity. The story went that some of Riva’s earliest followers destroyed the cult’s entire civilization and built this temple as a reminder of the Masons devotion to their messiah and the cost of denying her. Regardless of its beginnings, the location currently operated as something of a black site for any and all illicit religious dealings that required the sanctity of the Crystal’s light absent its judgement. One such fell bargain played out before Oz’s very eyes. Though late to the ceremony proper, Ozymandias was by no means the last person trailing in. With its base built into the surrounding island, the epicenter of the temple housed a large body of water that fed numerous streams in all directions. Stone bridges and walkways served as a testament to the founding Mason’s ingenuity and determination to celebrate the Island’s ecosystem whilst also conquering it. The waterways were wide enough for several boats to pass through and ferried the ships to the epicenter where the large body of water served as a raised dais, allowing the ships to sail around the large pool or navigate into one of any number of manmade docks that were then sealed and permitted to enter the dais by flooding the chamber with water. Gargantuan stained glass windows stretched upwards to the vaulted ceilings. Their depiction of the Masonic triumph over the fish man cult, culminated in a mural unfolding across the ceiling, a mirror of the cult’s temple descending into the depths. Illuminated by a vast number of alchemy lamps, the interior of the expansive temple emanated a bright radiant glow; its wonder only magnified by the fact that its splendor was a man-made fabrication. Garbed in a finery that belied the remoteness of the location and bathed in the faux sunlight, the temple’s guests continued to trail in via walk and waterway. Some stood along the stone pathways peering up at the elevated pool, but far more sailed in on small skiffs, perfect for maneuvering the narrow and rapid currents. Whether by walkway or waterway, the people all gathered around the pool and the figures standing upon a small barge that operated as a floating dais. Three figures stood upon the dais, two men and a woman. Thin, with a fading salt and pepper hairline and a decidedly pinched face the first man wore the raiment of a Masonic priest. His watery eyes passed over the crowd in silent judgement before returning to the man and woman before him. Bearing the white and blue of a traditional Masonic wedding dress, the woman was a picture of perfection. Pristine golden hair was pulled back and braided, save for a few strands strategically placed to frame her soft angelic face. Radiant blue eyes peered at the man kneeling before her. The groom was young, but tall for his age, even on his knees his head brushed the bottom of his brides breasts, but there was a decided lack of fullness to his features that marked him even younger than he appeared. He wore a fine suit, but it’s disheveled state suggested that he did not dress himself and the shackles upon his wrist and binding about his mouth made it abundantly the youth was here under duress. Oz blinked rapidly, giving the silent commas for his bionic ocular implant to zoom in. Comparing the young man to the image of the boy in his heads up display, Ozymandias grunted. No mistaking it, that was Wells Harrison XI, but he was at least a decade older than his six years of age. Oz closed his left, right and left eyelid again in quick succession altering the eyes vision. Judging from the strange aura surrounding the groom, it stood to reason that something had been done to increase the youth’s age, if only in appearance. The sporadic pulse of the aura seemed to indicate that the transformation was most likely temporary. Long enough to wed and bed, Oz thought. He wondered if the bride knew her groom’s true age or if the priest and her family were keeping her in the dark in order to speed the nuptials along. Not for the first time, Oz scanned the citadel. There were plenty of hired guns, mostly black fire raiders judging from the black flame emblazoned on their gear; a few Poor Sons, no doubt making money on the side ( and work for a Masonic priest was part of their day job, right?); and the odd wandering Mercenary scattered about. Ozymandias moved atop the citadel’s upper ramparts. At one point these sections were for spectators unworthy or unable to attend the services below, but given that the Masons had all but abandoned this site, it was uncommon for this citadel to have more than whatever gathering the Masonic Priest using he black site demanded. Judging from the looks of things, this particular priest had called in half the nobles from the Zompac region to witness the illegal wedding. Far more witnesses than Oz liked, but that couldn’t be helped. The Harrison family was a decent name in the Setroth province and that meant they could pay...a hell of a lot. Oz moved into position directly over the dais and waited. A team member was expected to cause a distraction, allowing Oz to swoop in, grab the kid and get out before blood had to be shed. {In position.} He said, over the private comms.
  14. After the colosal war that happened in a isolated forest in Terrenus, Nesy was simply wandering around the wilds of Terrenus in a forest somewhere. He simply walked along a path entierly tired. His railgun on his back was seen bumping around on his back. Appearently he was armed with a suit along with a visor helmet. Appearently Nesy sighed as he walked along the path and his armour was dirty. That's what happens when a war is engaged. This tired alien soilder wandered aimlessly along the dirt path. "Aggh..." Nesy would fall to his knees and roll onto the dirt ground and into the sky. He would be crawling his way to a big rock to the left and he simply sat in a upright position. Well, Nesy was simply very tired and he was exauhsted. "Man.. Oh man.." The Alien soilder rested on a very big rock that was appearently very mossy. He was breathing a little heavy altough he looked like he walked through a desert. His armor was covered in moss and metal splinters. "....Man.." He said to himself as he cracked his back and he seemed to be rather exauhsted after the war and the 2.5KM walk away from the warzone.
  15. A waver, some called it. The beautiful woman whipped upon one between larger vessels, throttling brakes and boosts along her canal like a Mario Kart character through Toad's Turnpike. Water sprayed from the centrifugal force of her scooteresque board over the decks of passenger vehicles who abided by Shrine City's traffic laws, splashing civilians in nice clothes with champagne glasses who expected the typical serene journey down Shrine's winding byways. Where was she headed? Why, none other than the least diviest dive bar near Lion's Square Garden. The beautiful woman walked into a bar and sat at the three-quarters-packed bar in the late afternoon. She got service real fast. "Pour me a double," she said huskily to the 30-some year old behind the counter gilded with taps. "Right away ma'am," he blushed, grabbing her drink. "Make it two," she said before he'd finished pouring the first. "Alright! Comin' right up!" exclaimed the young'un, catching the whiff that the lady could hold her own. Double-fisting and then downing both at the pace of about a gulp each, the beautiful woman's golden eyes flashed something between alcoholism and arousal. The bartender had other customers to tend to, but he would be back soon. Starting this kind of thing at a bar was fun, thought the beautiful woman.
  16. Welcome to King Milorian’s coronation masquerade ball! OOC: Things to Note: A Council of Dryads from the Free Marches are holding a meeting in the garden to discuss the current state of nature of Ursa Madeum. They are open to inquiries and are partial to acorns. The Lounge has been occupied by a group of dwarves who are far into their cups for the night. They are holding an arm-wrestling competition; the winner gets a prize. Participants: Open How-to: Dice Rolling Thread - Look at the result for the D2. If a 1 is rolled, you won! If a 2 is rolled, then you lose that round. There will be 3 rounds per-participant. You need a 2/3 win to get the prize. A mourning fairy has taken advantage of the famous festivities. Its victims experience sudden feelings of grief, and if the fairy is not caught, the grief can turn one mad. Catch the fairy and receive a reward. A witch is dropping elemental rune stones around the castle! These stones can be used to enchant weapons, armor, or yourself; only two stones per participant, please. Stones: wind, water, fire, earth Layout: Red is off limits; Green is open Milorian felt extremely uncomfortable; Milorian looked extremely uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly sure what his attitude should be towards the gathered individuals, and it left him feeling adrift among the large crowd. To his right was Primera all dazzling in her glamour and dress; to his left was an emptiness he felt right down to his very core. Birdy was not there to accompany him during this rather momentous - strange - moment in their lives. When he was made King, she was made his Queen; he hates to think what her absence will cause. On the other hand, he was pleased that she was hidden somewhere, safe and comfortable. He was not going to burden her with superficial gestures that could risk her comfort and health. Comfortably married for a short time, the two had maintained a sense of privacy from the moment they took vows in silence. It worried him that there may be a demand they marry in front of the entirety of Ursa Madeum, just to ensure that neither were manipulating their position and power by lying to their fellow citizens. The elf prayed they'd leave Birdy alone. At least he can speak of his wife; there had been a few compliments towards his attire. Birdy, Primera, and Odelia had ambushed him with options of different suits that would fit his newly acquired position, though he doesn't know why. Whatever opinion he had about the attire was quickly swept aside by one of the women. It took them four days to decide on a simple black suit void of any embellishments - four. days. When it was time for the masquerade, they threw a cape over his right shoulder that carried the Mythal wolf and pinned the fabric with a variety of golden chains that now hung from his shoulder. He hated it, but he had no opinion. Primera was rude enough to point out he was blind, so it didn't matter what he thought since he can't see. "You're a rather quiet host, my King." Primera dragged the sour-faced elf to the dance floor that was overly crowded with excitable company. He had to right himself when she manipulated him to hold her irresponsibly close, but the lack of space on the dance floor made it impossible to be appropriate. Without much choice, he was forced into a quickstep that shook a few laughs from his dry lungs and drew a smile across his usually tight features. "There you are! Such a handsome King should smile, it'll make the ladies weak." Milo rolled his sapphire eyes, not sure if he should feel complimented or not. He didn't care if the people should find him handsome or not, what mattered was what they thought of his behavior and his actions. Though he understood the small spread of truth behind her evaluation; a kind and thoughtful individual on the throne could sway the uneasiest of hearts, as first impressions do matter. Being an elf sitting on a somewhat changeable throne, a smile and some kindness could do him some good. "I suppose I can smile every now and then," he said begrudgingly. The two made it out alive and took refuge on the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Unable to hide it, there were flecks of pride in his blind gaze as he "watched" the elves of his land mingle with the rest of the crowd. The normality of the sight was endearing, he never really expected such a thing to happen yet always yearned for it. Such an amazing view was exemplified by the laughter, the teasing, and the general conversation coming from differing individuals. Even if it's just for now, even if it's just for show, he can take these small triumphs and covet them when needed. Primera looked up at the elf who was clearly lost in the moment. Teasingly, she elbowed the gentleman, knocking him down back to earth. "You are a regal sort, you know. Seeing you as you are, in all your kingly glory, it's a marvel." "You keep feeding me these compliments, and I'll become fat on pride." "Oh? Is that why your belt is cinched extra tight?" The Grand Kommadant reached down and pulled at his elaborate belt all shiny in gold and jewels. Aghast, the elf slapped her hand away - a handsy woman! "I beg your pardon, my lady, but it's not very ... lady-like to just grab at a man's belt." "I beg your pardon my King, but that all depends on the gentleman." They were in a public place with eyes already drawn to their playfulness, the last thing he needs is this pompous woman speaking far too candidly for her own good. Damn her! He could see a few individuals hiding their smiles behind sips of wine and the flush of fans; they were going to talk, and it's all her fault. He certainly did not help the situation by laughing behind his gloved hand, the terrible attempt only exasperated the crude comment. The masquerade was to introduce him to the rest of society and open the doors for conversation. He did not want to talk politics, he barely wanted to acknowledge his newly acquired title, but he understood that parties as these are opportunities to get your foot in the door. With the party currently gliding towards its peak, Milorian has spoken to many people who have all welcomed him and nothing more. He was grateful that, at least for a moment, his people can enjoy a single night of celebration without any underhandedness. "I hate you," he finally said. He couldn't see it, but he certainly could tell that she was beaming. Which she was, from ear to ear, her smile reached; opal hues glittered and glowed with amusement behind the elaborate mask she wore.
  17. --(May contain language)-- 12:00 PM -- Date: ????/??/?? -- Operation: #SaveValucre Meanwhile, somewhere in an isolated location in Terrenus..................................................... After the threat that was sent out in the tavern Nesy had been using his spaceship in kilometers upon kilometers before he landed in an isolated forest, running for his life to confront the Retruvians and the war will shortly start. The war will be so loud that it will shake Terrenus's nature appart by a bit.. Nature can be destroyed. But it is for this planet's best. Nesy couldn't let the retruvians take away all the bautiful world that it present. As Nesy went through the forest of Terrenus and his suddenly armor began bleeping a red alarm and a hologram displayed with a red text that almost scared the heck out of Nesy. They have found him. Nesy had to act quickly after this but there is no needed for a war in this situation. But the Retruvians that were currently hunting for Nesy gave him no damn choice. His railgun was bouncing on his back as he went through the forest with his armor LED alarming Nesy. "....Hmph.." He breathed out and he'd open the transmission. A sudden female robotic automated voice began blurting out of the transmission. "WARNING! WARNING!" "INCOMING ENEMY TRANSMISSION, Retruvia-X91 INBOUND!" A very loud laughter spat out of the Nesy's transmission as he listened through the horrible static and now communications were clear... The demonic voice from the Tavern he had heard had just gotten even fucking scarier.. Following a psychotic laughter and the wind blowing on his back a little. His enemy spoke in the hologram. "Nesy Celvius, you are a fool to come here!" "I will give you a proper fucking funeral!" It said to Nesy with an other laughter. Nesy would have enough of this trickstery from this Retruvian son of a gun. Nesy's arm was by his sides and his legs on the soft darkened ground. "..." He didn't respond but he decided to listen further. "Oh, I'll make your suffering slow and painful! I shall send my small little platoon on you. See how it feels to be shot by 1000 railguns up your nifty little Celvestian bumhole." Nesy somehow burst out laughing to his remark. "You want a mini-war homie? Then I'll give you one! Come at me then scumba-" Nesy was interupted with a bang in the distance. There were 200 siege tanks,400 infantry and 400 spacecrafts incoming to his postion and they were coming in a bit quicker he expected. So Nesy began running for cover. "...Oh! Better send my reinforcements before I get my bumhole wooped!" Nesy navigated swiftly on the hologram and he began transmiting to Celvestia. "Hey guys! I'm bout to get my goose cooked. Better send some help here!" Nesy transmitted to his home planet. A response was quickly set out by one man.. "Nesy Celvius, I have been expecting you. What's botherin ya?" The Celvestian man began to type out some cordinates and he gave a nodd towards Nesy while his face was displayed on the hologram. "Our forces will be positioned there. Run there ASAP!" The hologram transmission cut off.. So Nesy had to make a run of his damn life. There was rappid fire and screams behind Nesy and railguns being shot. These were warcries from his own enemy approaching and the forest was going to get cooked very soon. But in Nesy's suprise there was a platoon of Celvestians stationed close to Nesy as his radar began showing ally reinforcements. "You guys came!" Nesy yelled and the Celvestians gave a cheer towards Nesy. They somehow arrived here before he did. Lucky him! "Attention our Celvestian soilders! My little brother's being attacked by Retruvian forces! We need to make a move and wipe them out!" Nesy's brother? That is a huge suprise. Has he been spying on him since he had came to this planet? Very facinating job honestly. The Celvestians did their quick planning as the Retruvian forces were approaching them by 1KM by every 10 second. They were just 3KM away. "Alright, go defensive! Attack when needed!" "Also! Even saving this planet from Terrorist assholes! This is not about Nesy! This is about the planet as a whole! LET'S DO THIS!" The Celvestians had 300 Infantry, 300 tanks,300 siege tanks and along with 400 very heavily armed big robot units that can morph into a plane and to a space-craft.. Very good units! The Retruvians wont know what's ahead of them.. Suddenly Celvestians took cover and waited for the Retruvians to approach. Nesy would be also fighting along with his brother.. "I die with you in battle, big bro! Nesy said. "I die with you too, brother." Suddenly charges came from the front and the tanks began firing at the Retruvians! The war has started definently.. The Celvestians began firing defensivly at the Retruvians.. Their deflectorsheilds clashed against the bullets and all the lasers coming towards them like a defensive energy shield barrier.. This fight may take a while. There were loud banging in the area around Terrenus's wilds. There were a lot of loud explosions. Rappid fire and bombs being dropped onto the Retruvians as Celvestian anti-spacecraft units shot the Retruvians from the sky and to be bombed... The sky was filled with explosions,fire n fury! There were lasers being fired over all directions and they were in many different colours.. Laser guns,railguns and laser blasters all over the place and there were a lot of Alien technologies being used during this fight.. There were smaller explosions in the area and the trees fell down and succumbed to their fate and there was a lot of smoke.. What will everyone react to this? It'll time to find out.
  18. This world would have been a peaceful place if not for the Humans who sought out power for power sake and to control the world with advanced pieces of technology but now it is too late, for they have set that path in stone and those who have this goal would want to see it till the end in its full fruition. It was believed that Humanity has finally reached its highest peak in both science and technology because the discovery that Ahab Balaena made, he was a very well known Scientist in the Technology Department but little did he knew that the Ahab Reactors, who were named after him because of its huge impact it had on the world for decades, would be the cause of a War. A war that would make Humans turn against one another because the Ahab Reactors were the latest advanced pieces of technology, because they could power anything and make it last for forever because it generates enormous amounts of energy via transforming the artificial generated vacuum elements that were now used to power their interstellar traveling ships. These Ahab Reactors were made to be physically indestructible and once one was manufactured it would continue to proceed energy forever. Because of Ahab Balaena's blessings people sought it out to take it from themselves once the mass production of Ahab Reactors were set into motion and once they did a group of people from over all around the world gathered in the corner of Earth to discuss their actions that will shape Humanity for forever. Because these Ahab Reactors could power and sustain anything, they came up with the idea of creating Mobile Armors who would be unmanned and piloted by Artificial Intelligence, with one simply and direct goal. To take down large groups of Civilization to simplify their true goal, to rule over the world with an iron fist. This group was called N.E.C.R.O.N and with the help of some background friends they manage to take a Ahab Reactor of their own and once their top Scientist Engineers, learned how to properly reproduce the reactors they were once again one step further in completing their goal. Proving that the Ahab Reactors were now easily manageable to be reproduce in amounts of stocks, they finished a rough sketch on what their Mobile Armor should look like but the idea was that it should look like a Bird, an elegant being that even when it delivers a death blow it still has a certain grace to it, with large claws and legs that could be use as arms. A beak that would shoot out concentrated energy beams that can destroy city and the ability to fly with ease, the rough idea was of an Angel...called the Hashmal which one of the ten classes of angels in Judaism, that were sent out by God to punish. How ironic it was that they used "Angels" to punish the Humankind just because they did not want to bow before anyone and wanted to live a life where freedom was allowed for everyone, N.E.C.R.O.N more so demonized the Angel meaning because the cause was a evil and selfish one. Once the Artificial Intelligence was implanted in this Angel it was ready to go, for weapons it had the deadliest of them all such as the capabilities to fly and even in space. Having claws that could penetrate and impale anything besides Nanolaminate Armor. In fact the whole Hashmal was made out of Nanolaminate Armor. The Nanolaminate Armor was a defensive, metallic paint with multi-layered molecular arrangement that is vacuum deposited on the armor of mobile armors and ships. First glance, the armor seemed hard but in principle it was a very thin cushion with several layers. It is also effective against physical projectiles, where its energy bearing molecules can absorb the impact from live ammunition and explosive charges, thereby protecting the machine's body from damage. Also the armor's strength is influenced mostly by the Ahab Waves or Particles and the gravitational field that was generated which also had an effect on the armor's multi-layered molecular arrangement. And if the Ahab Reactor would shut down, the armor's capabilities would also drop. The Hashmal also had a Beam Weapon, whenever the Mobile Armor opened its so called "mouth" it fired a concentrated beam of energy that takes a bit to fire and has a massive damage output with its destructive power and effective range, besides that there was the Kinetic Energy Shot Launcher's which were mounted on each claw that allowed the Hashmal to fly or hover around from place to place which could also fire rockets that were more like protruding weapons. If Hashmal had a effective weapon during close combat situation it was none other than the Superhard Wire Blade with a blade that had high hardness that was attached to a wire made of a special alloy, that was mounted on the back of the Hashmal's head. The wire's special alloy is vicious because it can bend flexibly when charged with a trace amount of electrical current and can move easily in any direction and it can also be used as a launch surprise attack from blind spots. They also made sure that the Mobile Armor and future ones would have an Energy Supply System that were build into each shoulder and were located behind the large red panels. This system supplied power to the Plumas via microwaves, even so the system is not directly related to combat, it is more so than proof that Mobile Armors are an autonomous unmanned weapons. And lost but not least there are the Plumas, they are also an unmanned but small, sub-unit produced by the Hashmal and since it is the Angel the sub-unit it is its so called feathers that are in reality deadly just like the Hashmal. It has a pair of claws on its arms and a drill on its tail and a concealed railgun underneath its regular red eye. A single Pluma is no real threat however, if there are in large groups then they can become a real problem because they can easily decimate productions plants, human beings and Cities. In melee combat they close the distance by hovering then leaping or flying as they launch with their attacks. They can attack from various directions, which can confuse the enemy with their tricky movements because of their thrusters around their body as it makes them able to move around with agile movements and with ease. Also the power they receive is from the supplies that come from the Hashmal via the microwaves and it operates based on the orders coming from the Mobile Armor and it will not stop functioning unless it is destroyed. While they are made to be serving units and attack while protecting the Hashmal, they can also carry out other functions, like scavenging, collecting resources such as fuel, propellant and other materials the Mobile Armor needs to be repaired by the Plumas themselves and it can also manufacture new Plumas with these resources if the enough amount of time and materials are given as they can multiply infinitely. The Plumas also serve as a collective data about the surroundings of the area which is transmitted in real time to Hashmal as they are a part of the Mobile Armor. "Finally, we're finished." Said a Scientist who was in his mid 40s with black heir, fair skin, brown eyes, glasses, standing about 5'7 with a neutral expression and a slim body, as he sighed of relief, they have been working for hours none stopping as the leader of the N.E.C.R.O.N's Jonathan Wallace, the 6' tall muscular man with grey hair and beard with black accents to it, having blue eyes and a imposing stature, was standing besides his favorite Scientist Abraham Brown. "Well they are only 10 units." Jonathan said with a brief chuckle before folding his arms under his chest, staring at the Hashmals as they were being transported. "You have them on stand by?" He asked Abraham. He looked at him and slightly gave him a nod. "Yeah, they are to be honest still prototypes." He used a cloth to dry the sweat on his forehead and Jonathan placed a hand on his shoulder. "Abraham, they are perfected. We've been at this for 3 years and now we are so close to reach our objective." "I know but we still don't know if they are capable enough to do what we set them out to do." Abraham said, still worried because he was a perfectionist and he always wanted to make sure things would go according to the plan, something Jonathan knew all to well. "Set them outside and activate 2 of them and let's watch how they do our job for us in matter of seconds." He said as he withdraw his hand back in its folded position. Abraham took a deep breath before taking his console and taking out 2 units as ordered and setting them down. Working some schematics he finally activates them and once they did, they became alive immediately as the Hashmal started to walk as well as the other one, surprised enough Abraham felt as he looked at Jonathan. "Of course, we had to set a microchip inside the AI so that it wouldn't kill us but the rest of the humans. Only a fool would create a weapon that will destroy even its master." His edged out voice spoke as the Heshmals were tracking a few signals, turning their head into the direction with the biggest population. "Berlin, Germany." Abraham said and Jonathan looked at him. "That's were the biggest population in Germany is...they are heading towards it." Then they watched how the Hashmals folded their legs into their shoulders and flew off in a instant while making a few mechanical noises and sounds. Their base of operations, or at least the one they used in making the first pair of Hashmals was in Germany and now their first experiment shall happen live before their very own eyes, as Abraham and Jonathan watched how the Hashmals were approaching Berlin in a rather fast pace. "They are fast." Jonathan said with a grin. "It is mostly because of the Ahab Reactors." Abraham adds. "They are getting closer by the minute...I guess this is the moment of truth, me and you have been waiting for 3 years now." He said as Jonathan chuckled. "Indeed my friend, indeed." The two Hashmals landed in the City of Berlin in Germany and their humanity extermination system was picking up multiple humans that were now staring at them, in pure shock as to what they were. When the Hashmal opened its beak, revealing its beam weapon the people immediately broke into panic and started to run in different directions. Causing havoc and chaos in the street as cars were speeding off, the Hashmal's beam weapon charged and fired in a straight life killing many people by vaporizing them into nothing but ashes. The other Hashmal deployed its Plumas that were starting to get into the 10s and then 20s and 50s. Building up the number into 100s as the Plumas rained havoc upon the people, killing them with their claws or railguns with significant ease, the Government of Berlin already took notice of this and they sent in the military. Soon tanks and helicopters came in but it was too late as the Hashmals already killed over 2.000 of people. Throwing everything they had with the best of technology they had such as live ammunition, it did little to affect the Hashmals as they used their beams to destroy the helicopters and some of the tanks that were firing down upon them. The Hashmal got hit but it did not damage any vital part as it was aimed towards it shoulder, commanding the Plumas to take care of the tanks while the Hashmal took care of the soldiers that continued on firing upon them. The other Hashmal took note that the soldier's main priority was escorting the civilians, realizing this the Hashmal followed on their trail, while the soldier's fire power did little to nothing in easing this Mobile Armor down before it unleashed another devastating beam of energy that destroyed the civilians as well as the street and a few buildings. "Somebody call reinforcements!" A soldier said through the line before watching how the Plumas were going towards him and the outpost, screaming with a inhuman scream. The Plumas made short work of the soldiers, jumping from one car to another with relative ease. Using their thrusters all around their bodies to throw off the soldiers that were aiming their guns at them that already did little to no damage. "They are everywhere!!" Another said. "We are going to die, nooo!!!" One screamed as rage took over him but he soon died as a Pluma jumped on him and stabbed him with its claws before the others were surrounding the soldiers and firing at them with their railguns, eliminating them quickly. The massacre continued, soon everyone was in danger as the Hashmal deployed even more Plumas, approximately 300 or so as they ravaged the area rather quickly. And now their next objective is to head towards the Government building of Germany's capital, Berlin. Speeding towards it while they continued to destroy everything that stood in their way the German Military stood little to no chance as it was something they have never seen before and they were so terrifying that the soldiers were trembling from angst. "We need to get you out of here." A Government agent said to the Federal Cancelar. "I am not going to retreat like a coward." He protests against that decision. "But Sir, if we stay here we can risk getting ourselves killed. Our weapons cannot penetrate its armor nor do we seem to have something effective against it!" The General of the German army said. "And we cannot risk killing even more civilian lives with a nuke! We need to get out of here now! Time is of the essence, Federal Cancelar!" The Federal Cancelar nods his head and listens to the General. "Very well. Let's go while he stil have the chance." They immediately head off and walked outside the building heading towards the helicopter and quickly getting inside before the Cancelar had a scare when a Pluma jumped on the window before the Pilot took off and flew upwards, throwing the Pluma off and on the ground. "They are here, get us out of here!" The General barked the orders. Once they were up high in the sky they sighed out of relief but little did they know that Hashmal was flying towards them and they started to panic. "Oh god. It's coming straight for us!" The pilot said as he tried to out maneuver it but the Mobile Armor wouldn't be so easy to trick as it opened its beak and the beam charged. "We are going to dieee!!!" One of the soldiers said as the Cancelar opened to say something but right then the Hashmal destroyed the Helicopter with its beam weapon, killing Germany's Federal Cancelar. Jonathan found himself laughing with a twisted laughter as he watched how the Hashmal killed a very important Government figure in nothing but matter of a few hours. "See this is the power now we poses!" He clenched his fist. "If it took nothing but a few hours. Imagine what we could do if we had 30 of these..no 50 and even more!" He said. "We will rule the world less than a year!!" He continued to laugh. Abraham nods his head, realizing that he now needed to do. "Yes, sir." He said. "I'll do my best to construct as many Mobile Armors as we can. Now that we know they work, mass production should start with no drawbacks." "I never expected less. Old friend." Jonathan then walks away and lets Abraham alone in the shadows as this man was working every day and sometimes a few hours in completing the project called 'Angel' building Mobile Armors that acceded the number of 20 in just 6 months and they set them out to conquer Germany and France in matter of days, it seemed hopeless to resist because neither country could detonate nukes because of the people and mostly because these Mobile Armors took them by surprise every time and the Governments couldn't do much when the surprise attacks hit, afterall it was Europe they did not expect a beginning of a war... Indeed, it looked as if it was a war but one that the humans couldn't win because they didn't know what they were up against and as the months turned into years, soon the Mobile Armors started to kill human lives in 1000s reaching up to 50.000, 500.000, 1.500.000, 5.000.000, 10.000.000 and when it reached 15.000.000 the people soon learned that this is not going to end and if they don't do anything to stop these Mobile Armors no one can guarantee if there was ever a new tomorrow. The world needed someone who was strong in mind and body, that had cunning wits and intelligence as well as the ability to take over the leadership role and lead people in situations as dire as these, the world needed someone and that someone was Agnika Kaieru, the one who would create the Angel Hunters with the help of Gjallarhorn, a military organization and the 72 Gundam Frames and their first ever made Gundam named after a Demon Lord, Bael....
  19. An alien precense was approaching a planet. Whoever this being is, is a visitor wanting to learn about many cultures.. Who will be the first to meet Nesy? It was a beautiful day in Genesaris. Nothing seemed to be bothersome really... Until a gigantic black-bird spacecraft emerged from the highest skies and began to create a fire-trail as the aerodynamic effects thrased against the space-craft's underside but luckily it did not blow up or anything.. Due to the heatsheild of the spacecraft it seemed to be increadibly fine from far perspective and It seemed to be headed straight towards Genaris with full speed and who knows what the residents positioned there will see? It looked like a shooting star during the day and a bright trail during the night as it zipped through the atmosphere of the planet. But as soon as it emerged, it disappeared and all there was left was a black dot in the sky if anyone could notice it..The pilot of the spacecraft was the one and the only one alien that was named: "Nesy Celvius" or Nesy. . Nesy could see villagers,cities,castles and so much more as the spacecraft did it's gradual decent towards the ground! The ground below the spacecraft began ruffling like there was a really strong wind. So that's because the spacecraft was getting much close to the ground then some may have expected. Eventually the space-craft landed on the fields as the landing pads deployed and it just slammed onto the ground softly and the engines blasting underneeth shut off and everything went silent. It was time to see whoever's behind the metallic space-craft... Time to discover whoever is behind the entire scene and it was time to discover who this person or alien was. Was it human? No, it was not.
  20. On a beautiful day in Athentha. The floating islands were casually floating like they usually would. Suddenly there was a bright trail being seen in the sky if anybody were to be nearby. It emerged from the beginning and disappeared like a shooting star would.. It was somehow very fast but people can see it for about 5 seconds before disappearing into nothing. Meanwhile Nesy was in the sky with a blackbird looking-spacecraft that zipped through the clouds of the area and as the spacecraft did it's gradual decent towards the planet. The aerodynamic effects of the space-craft was almost powerful but it's metalic structure prevented it from blowing up while it was zipping through the thin air like a bullet. It appeared as a shooting star in the sky and the spacecraft's trail disappeared from sight. There was a black dot in the sky trailing closer to the floating island in the distance. Eventually the flying thing would disappear out of sight as it landed on the floating island and the spacecraft went idle. Suddenly the airlock of the spacecraft flung open and Nesy would walk up to the roof of the space-craft and he eventually slided down the front and hit the ground on his 2 feet. Who is this being? Nobody knows. It is time to find out who this multiversal being wants. Once in for all.
  21. The west of Genesaris past the Cold Mountains was truly beautiful. Lush green fields underneath a bright blue sky that seemed to go on forever. Forests so green and gorgeous that they seemed as if they were always there, planted by the gods themselves to make the world just little bit brighter. All of it sickened a part of Dredge. The Dark Lord of Legion stared down at its splendor from atop a descending mountain pass. He had been growing soft, enjoying the sight of beaches, caring about the people he had taken under his protection and leadership. In the back of his mind, everything he had, every instinct, urge, and impulse told him to reduce it to ash and slay its inhabitants until they were nothing but steaming and rotting meat under the sun. And honestly? The mere thought of such acts made Dredge smile under his darkened helmet. Just how easy it would all be, a snap of his fingers and the slaughter would commence. However, Dredge had given his word to not act in such a way. The Dark Lord was many things. A murderer, a butcher, a monster, and a fiend who delighted in the suffering of others. But if there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a liar. If he didn’t have his integrity, then he was no better than the trash this world churned up on a daily basis. The so called heroes and privileged who never had to climb their way off of planet’s made of garbage and filth. Who lied and cheated at every turn to get ahead in their pathetic rat race. No, he was more than that. He would keep his word to Lady Akako. ”Me Lord.” A rather lanky yet lean blue troll with an orange Mohawk bowed behind his unholy visage. ”We be approachin da settlement Alverton. Orders?” The Troll said with his head and eyes staring firmly into the earth. A soft chuckle left Dredge’s lips. A chuckle that built into a small but steady laugh. Truly this situation was absurd to him. With the clapping of his iron covered hands he let out a soft sigh when the laughter began to die down. ”Oh how I miss you Michael. You’re laughing at me right now, aren’t you?” Dredge said as he stared up at the sky. ”Me Lord?” The now rather confused troll lieutenant said in a befuddled tone. Turning back his head his still face was replaced with a malicious smile that gleamed through the darkness of his helmet. Somewhat taken back by the expression the Troll kept his head to the floor. Dredge had a few ideas and if he couldn’t spill blood and have this settlement’s compliance through said violence. Well he’d still do this his way. ”The shamans. Bring them forward with me, we have some persuading to do.” Dredge said with another chuckle. Coming down from the mountain pass was not the hordes of violent troops Legion was accustomed to sending but rather the Dark Lord followed by a posse of twenty or so troll shamans, all decked out with their various trinkets and totems. An ethereal green and red energy wafted from their aura with a faint hint of malevolence. Following behind them were a few ogres that pulled massive carts filled with gifts, informational pamphlets, and other presents for this farming community. If you couldn’t kill them in the traditional way, well Dredge would just have to kill them with kindness.
  22. The Year is 18,598 Arcturon, Taen, Terrenus M'yr furrowed his brow, his concentration hidden behind the mask. His breath steamed across his face, dampening the skin that was already so beaded with sweat. His hands were trembling; noticeably so. He clung to the delicate strands before him, gripping them tightly even as the sea rocked the vessel he rested upon, the heavy boards beneath his feet groaning in protest against the sea. Yet, the smell of salt and brine, and the sound of the sea was distant, nowhere close, for now. Steeling himself, he committed to the task; M'yr's hands deftly fixed the knot in the string at long last, and he let go, gasping with relief. The paper lanterns floated upward, but stopped before scraping the roof of the gazebo. He looked up at them, candlelight flickering against the driftwood mask that hid him away from the world. He breathed. The sea receded. "Is that the last of them?" Somebody else asked. M'yr glanced over, and saw her there. Her. Another in a mask. Not his mask, but hers. Pretty and painted and taken care of. But it was from the sea, of that there as no doubt. They all were, tonight. From its ancient slumber, the Serpent continued to provide. The mask affirmed that, the hooks and bangles around his wrists, his neck, and his waist affirmed that. Always there. Always calling. Driving him towards the serpent, and away from the sea. "Yeah." He managed to say. The lanterns bounced about merrily, and he handed them off to her. She accepted them, and she took them away. M'yr stood still, for a moment. The world was still, the sea gone. He breathed, again. Hosting this event was exhausting, and he continued to doubt its efficacy. This festival had blown up, rapidly, their influence over Taen had developed surprisingly quickly, and now M'yr was left to pick up the pieces, and put them together, here, of all places. The Acolytes of the Coiled Beast were not quite as influential as they would have liked, but their hard work, and their dedication to the safety of Taen, had given them a certain amount of intrigue. The people trusted them, and this was a chance to make themselves known. It was, above all else, a chance to unite the people, in the face of the coming tides. Arcturon, in all her beauty, stood in frigid silence that night. As the sun began to fade, and artificial light replaced the natural, the streets came to life with the sound of music and lights. The main streets of Arcturon formed a long, well-lit pathway of carnival games and attractions, as multiple members of the Acolytes roamed about helping set up decor and arrange lanterns and stands for the folk to enjoy. Coaxed out by the smell of cooking shellfish, the sound of tankards being filled, and the harsh percussion of street performers, the citizens and travelers made for the roads, and quickly became swept up in the sensation of Low-Tide. This was a first. For Taen, and for Arcturon, festivals like this weren't common yet. Festivals celebrating the local haul of fresh fish, and returning voyages, however? Those were even more rare, given that Arcturon was landlocked. Most of Taen was landlocked, in fact. There were little to no sources of salt-water fish to be had anywhere. Yet, this didn't stop the celebrating masses. Heading from the Northernmost road down to the Southernmost road, one could experience every attraction and appeal the festival had to offer. Diners, bars and some shops directly along the path stayed open later to accomodate for prospect customers, and some even offered 'happy-hour' discounts. Their wares, though sold on the eve of the festival, lacked any kind of 'seaside' influence, and yet once swept into one such establishment, the sound of the murring crowds might be replaced from time to time with the creaking of timbers, and the roaring of the sea. It made for a fine opportunity to step in for a pint, or a hot meal, or stock up on anything a passerby might covet. Further down the road, things quickly grew peppered with partygoers. Food and drink stands littered the edges of the streets, selling nearly everything one could think of. One particular stand offered saltwater taffy; locally flavored, pulled right before your eyes for a meager 25 credits apiece. Another sold fried pickles, and further along, another offered fried haddock on a stick. Things only grew more flavorful as the road continued onward. Games lined these streets, too. Masked men and women supervised while games of chance and skill were played on quickly-made stands and tables. Men played dead man's hand as if they'd been playing the card game every day of their lives, while others attempted to draw blood in short, visceral bowie-knife fights, while a paramedic looked on. A few simpler, childlike games of chance took place as well along the road. Ring toss and bottle-toppling seemed to be popular. More than a few folk lined up to try their luck at a firing range, where rusted flintlocks took aim at battered ships in bottles. Further along, a massive fish of indiscernable size rested atop a massive hook, a short distance above the passerby's head. Next to it, a hunched, yet tall man that reeked of the sea tried to goad folks into guessing its weight. And, of course, the deeper you went, the better the music became. Street bands and performers dominated the scene, and no sooner could you enter Arcturon before being swept away in a sea of shanties, and a jury of jigs. People danced and drank everywhere you went, and even attempting to pass some of them was grounds for them to try and invite you to join. Perhaps the most exciting event at that point in the evening was a grog-drinking contest, set to being just a short time later that evening. From the sound of things, a few places in the roster were still open.
  23. galewarning

    The Decision.

    The city was different. The western setting sun, splashed it's colorful rays over the dynamic buildings, creating the illusion the city of was aflame with vibrant multi-colored fire. Standing on the Northern cliff looking down to the seaport town below. His discerning eyes, the dangerous green the clouds take before tornadoes and hurricanes ransacked lands, observed the typical end of the day bustle. Shoppers trying to procure last minute purchases, merchants wishing to finalize sales and the ever present police and refuse that wander city streets. All in all, not much of what he hadn't seen in a hundred cities and towns before. Then again, those conquests weren't this one. They weren't Casper. The number one trading port in Terrenus. The base of economical advancement and wealth. The place where technology was loathsomely present in every aspect of daily living. "Pathetic" he mumbled under his breath, watching a machine rumble up the hill, no doubt delivering a load that could have easily been done on foot or horse back. Sighing he leaned his back against his own equine specimen. Usko was a sight to behold, sterling silver with a measurement of 18.75 hands he was just shy of his riders towering six foot three frame. His head and ears were the color of a dark sky night with flashing shoots of grey, like falling stars. Swinging his head around he nuzzled Cadyrn's ear nickering. Without a thought a sugar cube was slipped to him to enjoy while his rider and friend continued to observe the city. The setting sun slowly withdrew to be replaced by the deceiving darkness of dusk. A touch to his other hand startled Cadyrn from his contemplation. This one was a downy soft fur, thick, full, and shedding. "You blasted brute," he grumbled at Chum "you know how bleeding difficult it is to get your hair off my pants!" Playfully he chucked the monstrous dogs head away. With his head reaching Cadryn's chest Chum was the epitome canine power; a combination of some ancient wolves and dogs. Vicious, majestic and wild with others, he was gentle, playful, and devoted to his human Cadyrn. The playful nibbles at his fingers turned his attention away from the city and to the sea. Standing on the cliff, he took a deep breath. His shirt seams screamed at the stress his shoulders and pectoral muscles placed on them when he breathed deep. He was a brute of a man, after all. He was built like the cliff he stood upon: solid, broad and strong. His arms were well defined and led to hands that, legend told had been able to pull heads from shoulders with strength alone. He was considered by many, to be handsome. Strong cheek bones, and jaw led to a straight sharp nose and deep set vibrant eyes that held danger lurking in the depths. His lungs filled he searched desperately for the scent of salt air. Unable to find it he exhaled, his shirt sighing along with him. The sun completely set, showed the city in a new light, blinding with it's mechanical lights and mesmerizing with its flashes of silvery blue in the waves he turned his back to the city and settled into wait. It can not be said Cadyrn Mor Talbot was a patient man, he was a strategic one. Walking, haphazardly to a sheltered spot just off of the road he pulled saddle and tack off Usko. The horse nuzzled his ear and wandered to the trees in search of grass, blending in with the forest around him. Busying himself with starting a fire and the preparations of a camp Cadryn thought no more of his plans for the city. His camp set up, his fire lit, Chum snuggled up on Cadryn's blanket, all four of his dinner plate sized paws straight up in the air, he waited. Without a sound and barely a whisper of a wind, the Osprey landed on the saddle and let out a soft chirp. In it's talons it held a silvery fish, as big as Chums paw. Displaying perfect white teeth, Cadryn rubbed the Ospreys head and under its beak, accepting the gift. Gar relinquished his hold of the fish and settled on Cadryns shoulder as he set about gutting and cleaning his dinner. Gar was presented with his choice of meat and after having taken his piece, did Cadryn eat, tossing bits and piece to the now attentive Chum. With his dinner eaten, his friends fed and his meeting time still a few hours away, he turned to Chum, cocked an smooth red brown eyebrow and waited. Chum rolled over and made room. Stretching Cadryn settled in next to his wolfdog and whispered into his fur. "Watch." With the knowledge that Chum will protect his sleeping form, and those of Gar and Usko, Cadryn closed his eyes and dreamed of the coming battles.
  24. A new chapter had begun for Legion. Much like the one before it, it would most likely be written in blood and battle. However unlike the previous chapter, there would be growth as well. Growth that would hopefully involve settling down and having a place to call home. Somewhere both monster and man alike could live in peace to create a world where no human village would be burned to the ground in an Orc raid. A world where entire goblin caves and tribes were not pillaged for treasure or gold, and their entire population slaughtered down to the last child. While creating such a world was beyond the prowess and experience of the Dark Lord Dredge, it was not for the woman he had given his loyalty to. The Yokai Queen Akako. The entire affair was somewhat of an uneasy alliance and agreement, for Dredge it was necessary to put his faith in the woman. The survival of his people had depended on it. For months and months the The Forgotten Fleet had sailed the open oceans to escape Terrenus, yet no where they landed could be considered safe. Word of their exploits had traveled across the world and they were of course considered armed and incredibly dangerous. Only now could they potentially call Genesaris home thanks to Akako, and for that Dredge was grateful. So grateful that when they first laid anchor, he sent the woman a gift. On the outskirts of Port Caelum, the thunder of armored boots struck the ground in unison. The unmistakable sound of military men marching in formation to the cadence of their own steps. When people often thought of Legion, they often pictured hordes of monsters, orcs, and goblins wearing mismatched armor and carrying strange curved blades still wet with the blood of the innocent, and to be fair that was partly true. In the older days, Dredge used the savagery of the more monstrous races to pillage and burn small villages and settlements within the Wilds of Terrenus. But that was the past, before he had set forth to create a proper army and unified force through sheer force of will. Marching towards the gate wasn’t a rabble of mixed fiends and brawlers, but the uniformed, well equipped, and highly trained soldiers of Legion. Each marched in jet black and blood red armor. Its design was sleek, of medium weight, and their helmets covered the entirety of the head and face. Within this armor they were no longer Orcs, Gnolls, Hobgoblins, or Trolls. They were one, and they were bred for combat and war. At the head of the pack a true beast of an Orc rode a massive Siege Owlbear, a mutated and horrific visage of its former bloodline now turned into a tainted and savage monster under the cruel breeding programs of Hobgoblins to power their war machines. Marching up to the city walls, the Legion troops and its lieutenant came to a full stop in unison and assumed a parade rest formation in neat columns and rows. Three hundred men and women, the best infantry and veterans of Last Chance that Legion could spare for the Queen. ”Preukenav!” The helmetless Orc cried out to his men. ”DREPA DREPA DREPA!!!” The force of men shouted back towards their commander and the walls of the port itself. Yet this was only the first part of Dredge’s little gift. Scrambling behind the troops were well over a few thousand civilians. Tengu, Yuan-Ti, Drow, Cyclops, Bullywugs, Githyanki, and the more civilized races of Legion that wouldn’t have issue with assimilation into a more unified lifestyle off the bat. They were what was promised to Akako by Dredge. He did not expect the Queen to let them into the port, but the woman was in charge of where these people would go and how they would establish one of the first colonies in her new and growing empire. The troops that had escorted them from the beach were now hers to command. The Orc Lieutenant has been given the strictest of orders to obey Akako, and to never betray the woman. Just for good measure though, Dredge had assigned a pact-wraith to the commander whose icy fingertips gently wrapped around the heart of the Orc. Should he fail her, he’d be swiftly dealt with. All of this was now hers, but this was just the beginning. To the east of Port Caelum, they had arrived. Under the crack of whips and beastly snarls and roars. The armies and people of Legion had come to the Cold Mountains. A place of rock and ice, evergreen trees and winter life that could be seen in the mostly sparse land. The perfect place to build a new world in which to grow and expand from. The people of Legion had been accustomed to worse biomes and living conditions than these, so adapting and overcoming wouldn’t be an issue. There was however one monumental problem though, and it stared down at them from its towering and almost endless height. The mountains themselves. In order to prove his worth outside of combat and slaughter, Dredge had taken on a Herculean task for the Lady of Port Caelum. To build a reliable and easily accessible tunnel from the east of the mountains that stretched out and into the more fertile lands of the west where ice and snow weren’t the only features year round. While digging through mountains wasn’t the most impossible of tasks due to the races that joined him such as kobolds and goblins, the devil of it all came down to resource management and access to supplies. They had enough food to last them a month and while they could sustain themselves indefinitely with the environment around them, that was if they had just chose to live and let live. A massive public works project such as this was often a drain, and sure Dredge could have the dead and those killed in accidents rounded up and thrown into pots of stew for the workers, but that was a temporary fix. No, what Dredge needed would be a steady flow of supplies to keep things running as efficiently as possible. Normally he’d just pick some of his lieutenants and have them raid and reave up and down the lands from the many villages and settlements they had scouted along the way, but that option wasn’t available to them as Dredge had given his word that they would be peaceful and assimilate into the culture. So as he stood out there in the cold and wind, Dredge looked over to one of his spindly drow lieutenants and called him over. ”Send a wyvern and a rider to the Lady of the Port. Inform her to send one of her confidants and six months worth of supplies and food, so we may set up our infrastructure as quickly as possible.” Dredge said softly to the Drow. ”It shall be done my lord.” With a deep bow, the drow ran off to go and see that their message was sent. As everyone stumbled into the base of the mountain, Dredge took stock of everyone. For the most part everyone was healthy and capable, those who had fallen on their journey here were looked after, and those who had no chance of survival or had died were consumed. It was just the nature of the beast. ”SET UP CAMP!! TOMORROW WE DIG!! IF I CATCH ANY OF YOU TRYING TO TAKE EXTRA RATIONS THEN I’LL HAVE YOUR HEADS AND THE HEADS OF YOUR MATE AND CHILDREN!” Dredge let out a fire filled blast that engulfed the snow above turning it to steam and vapor as his thaumaturgy shook the earth to inspire fear and loyalty in those less convinced about this move. For now, Dredge would let time pass. Days if need be to wait for Akako to deliver what he required to commence such a task. @Akako Akari
  25. The citizens of Lunaris are piiiiised! Even though jungle pigs have invaded Taen a long time ago, the native carnivores have kept their numbers in check. Recently, their population exploded, and their war with the zkriz'ka population spilled over into Lunaris. Now, a crowd of citizens surround the City Hall, shouting at the government. "Those fucking pigs ravaged my pasture!" "They ate my whole garden!" "They killed my baby!" "We can't go outside safely!" Then one person starts a chant. "Pigs out now! Pigs out now! Pigs out now!" As chants normally do, this one also catches on with the surrounding people. "PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW!" It isn't long until the entire crowd is chanting "PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW! PIGS OUT NOW!" @danzilla3
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