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  1. Alisaid Emmingwether had never appeared to age a day in his life. This was normal for many nonhumans, but less so for humans. You could attribute this to many things about his life, from the way he chose his diet, to the way he spent his money. He was a knowledgeable and thrifty salesman, selling cheaper than most merchants could, and buying pricier than most merchants would, as well. From an outsider's perspective, you would assume he was either perennially in the red, or had some secret stash of money. Looking at his shop, if you could call it that in Hyperion, you would never guess. Perched behind the till, Eryel rested on her elbows. Her head was still propped up, proud and kind, but it was all on the surface, a facade put up as she watched the various folk browse their meager goods. The only things she had on offer were straightforward items, things she'd managed to keep in the wagon with them; a smattering of tasteful clothes, extra rations, and perhaps a knife or two. Beyond that, the rest of her offerings were mundane and overexpensive; easily found cheaper elsewhere. They weren't her prices; Pawpaw was the merchant genius of the two of them, directing prices, negotiating deals for bulk shipments and arranging caravans, back in their home in Ashville. Eryel was the face of the business, certainly, with a knack for being straightforward and charming, reciting anything she was told on a whim. But not even she could spin what they had in front of her into a meaningful purchase, even when if she was paying attention. In her head, she was in the back taking care of her father. Was he able to lift the rag to his lips, or his forehead on his own? Maybe she should shoo the people out and go check on him again. She sighed audibly, and one of the shoppers stepping close by caught her attention, and she perked up, glancing over them quickly. They had an outgoing look to them, the look of a travelled and weathered sort; the kind of person who goes far and wide, seeing and dealing with various things. Eryel supposed she could call them a mercenary, or a freelancer. An adventurer, maybe? Her father in the back still beckoned to her in her thoughts, and she remembered that she had yet to hear about her belongings. The gears turned in her head, and she spoke, long before she even realized the words escaped her mouth. "Excuse me, but are you perhaps an adventurer by trade?" She asked. She paused, and leaned against the counter, smiling at them. "I may not have much available currently, but I am expecting more supplies. If you have a moment, maybe you could help me recover it. I'll reward you handsomely if you do." Somewhere midsentance, she'd stopped talking to just the nearest visitor, and broadcasted her voice just enough to reach the others nearby. "My name is Eryel," She introduced herself. Standing upright and smiling, she was a tall, graceful woman. Her layered clothing and tawny, rich brown complexion were elegant and warm, matching her kindly eyes and stilted speech, as she finished introductions. "My father and I have recently come to Hyperion from Ashville. With the rest of the migrants." @vielle @Zashiii @Sanonymous @squid peanut @Peach
  2. The city was burning. It had happened so fast that they were still struggling to learn all the details. The one detail that everybody could agree on was that it had all started with shards of glass, pieces of a mirror it seemed, had fallen from the sky. Soon after, everything had descended into chaos. People who had touched the shards had become psychotically violent; visiting death, torture, and worse, upon anyone they encountered. Though the Enforcers had tried to keep order, but even they were soon compromised by the spreading madness. Eventually they had fallen back to form a perimeter around the Arcadia district, thoroughly screening everyone coming out. But there were still people trapped within the quarantine zone; the elderly, the sick, and the injured. Prince Grant Knight wasn't willing to simply let them die, and had asked for volunteers from both the Enforcers and anyone else willing to go. He had managed to gather a group of about a hundred who weren't needed elsewhere, plus a few others. Now, as they stood in front of a hastily erected checkpoint, he turned to address them. "I want to once again stress that this is a strictly voluntary mission, so now is your chance to walk away, no shame, no guilt." When nobody left, he continued, "Our objective is to get to Arcadia General Hospital. As of one hour ago, we know that there were a number of civilians and Enforcers holed up there. We're gonna get them out; them and anyone else we come across." "We know that the plague was spread by shards of some kind of mirror. I probably don't have to say this, but DO NOT touch any shards you may find. Also, when you come across a civilian, check their eyes. The eyes of those affected by the shards take on a reflective quality. Do not allow anyone to get to the barricade without checking their eyes. Any questions?" Iblis looked out upon the Arcadia district from the rooftop of a palace of a home that had probably once belonged to some rich diplomat or some other such thing. Not that he particularly cared. He was here to do one thing; gain power, and this arrangement was perfect for that. Whenever one of the plague victims died, he would receive a portion of their power. Just from those that had fallen already, he had accrued quite a bit; and was sure to be significantly more powerful by the time this ended. But he was also interested in helping his partner Claudette achieve her goals. As the sun set, and the myriad fires that had been set across the district began to cast eerie shadows over the streets. "Not a bad start, eh?" @Rin @Thotification @THE_BULL @Deus Ex Aizen
  3. Charred bone crunched and crumbled beneath her feet. Smoke would rise for days ensuing the blaze that ripped through the city. Though Raveena tried to quell the disappointment in her son for this happening under his watch, she was not prepared to see the true destruction that took out the city. Dawn had not yet come. They were shrouded in the darkness just before. The airfield and it's tower was destroyed--they came in undetected. The familiar cadence of Enforcers and Aralim filled the air around her as they stepped off the Laureline. Sabine--now Imperatrix of the Aralim Knights issued their commands. Sweep around the perimeter--work their way inward. Pale blinks of light twinkled around their heads--Unseelie Fae who would assist in the recovery of what was left and neutralize threats that came up. More unsavory creatures from Aeldra's rift outside of Hyperion were waiting to move in. Raveena herself dressed in full Enforcer regalia, though her emblem was specialized--a black phoenix on a yellow field. She had cut her hair short for this excursion--and expected something nasty awaited them. Flanking her right, Vera inhaled sharply, "Mercy, Ilickai..." She spoke the name of the Matreyan God of War, and Raveena sighed softly--the first open show of her disappointment. It was difficult. She knew this was an intentional move. "You shouldn't be here, Your Majesty." Johari, of course, waited until they had touched down to voice his reproach. The others dared not breathe it. "I'm a Queen, not an invalid," Was her reply as she eyed their surroundings with a small measure of sadness, "I haven't lost my edge, Captain Ponsky, just my time to spend in the field. Rowan's training hasn't been for nothing." "Desk Jobs are no fun, believe me." Senior Lieutenant Vera Dafina spoke up. "Still, I agree--you shouldn't be here." Like Raveena--and all other Senior Lieutenants, their specialty lay in paperwork, but were required to keep their blades of their field services sharp. Raveena was excused, she simply fought her council to be here. This was her home, and someone had taken Rowan knowing she would follow. Losing Hyperion was not a heavy blow--there were twelve others, but it was her first--the one she was proudest of. It was a blow to her ego more than the Empire itself. "I'm keeping my oath." Was her only reply on the subject. Raveena knelt to the ground and pressed a palm flat. She almost immediately felt as though she were sinking into quicksand as she slipped into the earth to understand the lay of it. "The water is infected." She murmured. She could feel them. The strange, alien like creatures that snatched the bodies. She had attended countless meetings about them--and never had a chance to bring up the pending crisis to the A.N.T. Yh'mi was a whole other set of issues that she regretted being pulled away from. "The foundation is stable, but not for long if anything worse happens." Sabine's good hand raised to her earcom before glancing at Raveena. "We have movement up ahead." @danzilla3
  4. Never send a pathetic seed to do a job. They'll only mess it up. said Claudette Virga Von Ja'Guthra Talia as she looked at the road. The sign post saying the city of Hyperion 10mi with it pointing right. The elf was cloaked in a black hooded cloak, a design of the black heart mirror cross on the back entwined with a black heart mirror piece. The symbol of the Black Heart Mirror Organization. Idiotic Platinum, does he not realise that combining both seed and mirror piece will spread a beautiful plague? One the likes of humes have never seen? Tis remarkably beautiful. Claudette chuckled to herself as her barefeet crushed the ground beneath her. The soft dirt felt nice and the elven princess could hide such a pretty face under that hood. Upon her back, was a sack full of mirror pieces and seeds. And as she reached the outskirts of Hyperion, the girl licked her lips. It was time to harvest the city into a plague to spread upon these lands, enslaving their hearts and minds to a new found cult. Come to me, if you dare. I have some nice wares to see even the mightiest of Kings. whispered Claudette to the entire city as she entered it then. O' how it would begin. The sowing of seeds as the humes would say.
  5. For weeks, Grant Knight had been holed up in his mother's- no, for the time being, his- office, trying to get the Hyperion government back on track. So many things had to be stopped, rearranged, or postponed; and he had to be read in on things that only his mother had previously known. He barely slept, and ate at his desk, not having the time to take a proper lunch break. Meetings with senior officials and others were often done back to back, with his personal best being twenty sit downs in one day. By the time a new month rolled around, he felt like he was running on fumes, but it had worked. Things we're mostly back on track, and he could begin preparations to officially take over as acting King. After taking a few days to recover, Grant had showered, shaved, and eaten a large breakfast before attending to some business that circumstances had necessitated be put off. The man named Bishop was a friend of his mother's, the brother of the husband she'd had before marrying his father. He knew virtually nothing about him, but he supposed that if his mother considered him a friend, then he should as well. So when the man had asked for a meeting, he had told him that he would work him in as soon as possible. Today was the first man it had been possible. He walked into his office with a nod to his secretary, and greeted Bishop, who would already be inside. "Hello Mr. Bishop," he began, "I apologize for delaying this meeting for so long. How can I be of assistance to you." @Twitterpated
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