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  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. This is the Mil Dot Lunaris: a firearm store that the kind of items that Americans could only dream of, and ammunition types most people don't even think are possible. Outside, there is a switchback staircase in the front leading up to the front covered porch, which continues to the left and right sides beyond the trees. Wooden tables and chairs provide places for people to sit and eat. The front wall is mostly wood-framed windows, surrounded by profiled trim and cedar shakes. Suspended rope walkways also connect to the porch at different places.The windows themselves are triple-pane ballistic polycarbonate, three inches combined, with argon pockets. There is a ramp to a freight elevator on the loading dock for people who can't or won't ascend the stairs, as well as deliveries. A large sign stands on the front roof, with the Mil Dot logo (and name) laid in very white oak with dark ebony. The inside has two areas; the public area, and the private area. The public area takes up 70% of the volume and reaches through the supports all the way up to the underside of the roof decking. The back roof has the same windows as the front wall, and the same density. During most days, the only light needed is in the cases. All of the walls have cedar paneling, all of the lights are warm white LEDs connected to a direct current system, and rock maple covers the floor of the store portion. The eatery is separated only by the line where the maple flooring meets the yellow cedar. The same wooden furniture sits in this area that sits outside, and a wall from floor to ceiling separates the public and private sections. The freight elevator opens up from the "private" area on this wall in a way that does not allow the public free access. Restrooms flank the elevator shaft. The cases that line the back and left sides are heavy, with teak-covered metal frames holding heavy ballistic polycarbonate panes. Rifle racks and heavy cabinets sit behind them, with register terminals between banks of cases. Sharp-eyed observers may even notice the ample tinted camera domes, the Browning M2 and Mark 19 emplacements and firing slots up on the walls and roof sections. The private area is just for people who work here, which includes the kitchen, storage areas, office, utility spaces, and where Thurgood and Aveline live. The only coatings applied to any of the wooden surfaces, inside or out, are clear varnishes and resins, all designed to show the wood's natural beauty. Overall the structure is actually stronger than the trees supporting it. Inside the non-window walls is not just insulation and wiring, but heavy ballistic fiberglass and polycarbonate panels that combined can stop a .50 BMG full-metal jacket round. There is a full inside-outside water deluge system and chemical foam nozzles for fire supression (as well as flame-retardant varnishes and resins), large-scale greensand and DE filters and UV disenfection for water with two cisterns in the "private" area of the roof underside. A 10,000-gallon septic system with integrated grease trap remove waste from drainwater before returning it to the jungle. 80 individual 100-watt solar panels stick above the canopy to charge forklift cells in the utility area (that has ventilation to prevent hydrogen buildup). The forklift cells then power everything else either directly, or through a three-phase pure sine inverter. The Mil Dot accepts lots of different currencies, but the most prominent is this metal exchange: 1 oz of Tin = .25 USD 1 oz of Copper = 2 USD 1 oz of Silver = 10 USD 1 oz of Gold = 50 USD 1 oz of Platinum = 100 USD 1 oz of Rhodium = 500 USD. These do not reflect prices in the real OOC world. Now with Out Of Cartridges (OOC) thread!
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. On Far Away Shores They drifted for a while. Between space. Between time and existence itself. Within that vast expanse of nothing and everything where Great Old Ones slept for aeons and universes were birthed from the smallest and most nanoscopic events. They drifted through that void for what the mortal mind could not truly perceive, for there was no time, there was no sense of self, no sense of what was and was not. Only the inky black rift where they did not belong, and within those final moments within the primordial cauldron of creation. A bright flash of light expanded outwards and once again consumed those few either forever blessed or cursed to of gazed upon that which made and unmade the multiverse of worlds and lives that for the briefest moment was creation experiencing itself one life at a time. Light soon gave way to sound and the first to be heard would be the snap and shock of lungs filling with air. The waves of the ocean gently ebbed and flowed onto our travelers to return their slowly awaking senses back to them. Scents of salt and the warm touch of the white sands under the morning sun aided in breathing life into them. What they had experienced in Sigil, the blood and fire had almost seemed insignificant to a few of them. But for others, gazing into the abyss came second to what drove them forward in life. It came second to her. Black leather glove covered hands sluggishly gripped the white sands, the fine grains slipped between her fingers. Gradually the pain and soreness of her body flooded back to her brain and a slow groan exited her lips when the warm ocean waters pushed against her small frame. Within a few minutes she began to stand, a futile effort at first. Falling to the ground on more than one occasion, her wobbly legs found their strength and there she stood. Miss Blonde. Her eyes opened and what she saw was the fruit of her labors come to pass. Her men lay scattered across a beautiful beach. Some in worse shapes than others. What caught her eye afterwards was the Air Ship the Cardinal marooned on it’s side, damage heavy to its outer layers and more than likely unable to fly anymore. Most likely this beach and the ocean it lay partially in would be it’s final resting place. A cool tropical breeze whistled past them and the palm trees rustled with each gentle gust. It was a familiar sound, one that she had heard a million times before. With one final look forward, she was once again brought to her knees. Not because of the exhaustion that set deep into her bones. She fell due to sight of it. A mansion that had been left to rot unattended to be beaten by tropical storms months without any care or upkeep. But it wasn’t any abandoned seaside manner. It was a home. It was her home. Normally with a sharp wit and a silver tongue. Words had failed Miss Blonde. She wanted to scream, to cry, to celebrate, to weep and jump for joy. But rather a soft exhale of air left her lungs as she stared it for a short length of time. Blonde needed to compartmentalize those emotions right now. She was here to do a job, she was here to save her children from the enemies she had made in her rise to infamy in this galaxy. So her mind got to work, and the first thing was that Wynona was going to be very very pissed. Perhaps to the point of violence. Blonde knew the woman was smart enough to realize that she was probably Wynona’s only ticket back to Sigil, but after what they had just experienced you couldn’t be too safe. Therefore she armed herself with the weapon at her side. The next bit of business was triage. Evaluate who could keep going and who needed medical attention immediately. Checking her watch, they had little more than fourteen hours until the spell linking their bodies back to Valucre faded and they would either be stuck here forever or have to find another way back that could take years. But Blonde was not cruel, she would not keep pushing these people after what had just happened. Approaching a downed man from her team of operators, she filled his body with a bit of healing energy that caused him to perk up. Slowly he came around and she put a hand gently on his shoulder. ”White, it’s ok. We’re home now, but I need you to get the others on their feet. Any one who is wounded get them to the backyard and call the medical droids to examine them. Everyone else bring them up to the house and tell them they have two hours to sleep, eat, and rest. I’ll go see if the MREs and rations are still good. When you find Jack tell him to meet me inside. I’m sure he’ll be up in a few moments.” Giving the man a hug afterwards, she once again rose up and stumbled her way towards her home. There was work to be done and before they moved forward with this operation. They needed to focus on troop welfare. Two hours wasn’t a long time, but it was what they had given the circumstances they were in. They had arrived, and now the real battle would begin. @danzilla3 @The North Wind @vielle @Djinn&Juice @Trigger2Red @Turquoisie @Fierach @Thotification @notmuch_23 @SteamWarden @Metty
  8. Current Status Read Before Posting Tavern of Legend OOC Thread When you're ready to leave the TOL and explore Valucre, check out these transition suggestions. Note these are suggestions and you are not limited to the options detailed there. The Tavern of Legend is a jumping off point for new members, a sort of sandbox where new members can play with other new members while getting used to the site. This is especially useful for those new to online role-playing in general. Only members registered on the site for 90 days or less can post in the ToL unless otherwise approved (such as select events or mentors). We strongly encourage participating in Tavern quests and activities as a starting point, but this isn't required and a member can leave the ToL at any time. The new member guide can assist you as you go forward. The water cooler is a good place to check out when you're ready. You don't have to read the whole thread. Given the amount of new members that get funneled into the ToL on a regular basis, members aren't expected to read dozens or hundreds of pages. You read this post to get an understanding of the tavern, the last few posts to get a handle on what other members are doing, then you're free to introduce your character in whatever fashion you deem fit. The Tavern of Legend is an RP forum that is quasi-canon; nothing here is canonized as 'world of Valucre' lore, but its internal canon is consistent. Note that the tavern also "heals itself", so things like holes in the wall and accidental fires won't affect the overall aesthetic. What you do in the ToL can be referenced later on in other RP threads within the world of Valucre. Any quests you complete for the Tavern that take place in canon lands can be canonized as well. The Tavern They say the road to the tavern was once a nondescript journey, traveling through nothingness until you happened upon a quiet little hamlet out in the middle of nowhere. Farmers would wave, children following a short distance behind, curious as to your origins and intent. Only, things have changed now. You travel through lands scarred by fires and death, through an atmosphere of despair laden with only the slightest traces of hope. Burned down buildings are as common a sight as are the rats and vultures still searching for morsels. At this time, people still bury their dead- and there is many, while others hurry to get back within the cover of what remains of their home. Eventually, your journey leads you down a dimly lit path, finding that night has come upon you faster than you first expected. You come to a location said to be the corner of all existence, the point between the world of Valucre and all other possibilities. There sits a quaint structure, small and unassuming. It is only one story, hardly more than a shack, and certainly nothing like what was promised by those claiming to have once stayed within its walls. The paint is peeling, the sign is careworn and faded. Perhaps you feel cheated, having come all this way just to find some hole in the wall that gives only a welcome home to drunks too far into their cups to notice the difference. Still, there is an inviting smell coming from inside, a welcome change from the smell of death you left behind. Perhaps you should enter then, and stay for a drink or two. Even if this tavern is not what was promised, a drink and a hot meal would do you some good. And there you find that the Tavern is all that was promised you - and more. It reaches high, higher than you could have even imagined, the ceiling reaching hundreds of feet above. Layers upon layers of rafters fill in the gaps, where some patrons sit, served by a young man who traverses them with ease. Down below, the sprawling layout reveals a tavern with more than a dozen corners (each with its own table), despite the improbability. At the center of establishment is a large stage, where bands of bards play and leave- their lineup and styles as random as anything could be. Along what could be called the back, a long bar stretches out, ending at a doorway leading to the kitchens. Also in the back are stairs leading up to an upstairs that cannot be seen from here, and a door that leads down to the storage basement. Weapons can be checked at the door or brought to the weapons counter, where the character will be relieved of their weapon and given a chip when they're ready to reclaim it Staff The staff is varied. Some are transient, coming and going within a few days, and others are permanent fixtures of the tavern's setting. Some are from the world of Valucre, and others are wanderers from further off. The only constants in this ever-shifting tapestry are the core staff members who manage the tavern itself, each serving their own special function. Attractions Recurring Wait Staff Young Attractive Barmaid: Early 20’s, Green eyes and chestnut hair, with a noticeably large bust. Her name is Gwen. Young exhausted Barmaid: Just out of her teens, always looks worn out and haggard. Smaller frame on top, but generous hips below. Her name is Beatrice. Young scrawny barmaid: New on the job, looks nervous and eager to please. Often speaks in a rehearsed manner, quite rapidly. Tiny, but looks healthy otherwise. Average looking. Her name is Clair. Young man with dark skin and bare feet: The Rafters server, as nimble and acrobatic as an ape in the jungles, he was hired for his abilities to assist those patrons with difficult logistical seating placements. His name is Tova. Man in his mid-twenties, blond, frequently scruffy. Rather friendly, a bit boisterous at times. He gets along well with anyone, and is known for flirting with the prettier customers who don’t come in with obvious attachment. His name is Fjorn (pronounced Fee-orn). Woman in her late forties, wavy, short grey hair and blue eyes. She has no patience for the workers she thinks are lazy and will be quick to click her tongue and chastise slackers. She is stocky but short, with old battle scars she says she earned from "Fighting in the pits, earning her freedom with blood." She's willing to tell a tale or two about her past fights. Her name is Wentree. [Hired recently] Younger man in his mid twenties, about 5'10 but huge build and a bald head, with nearly black skin. He speaks with a mild accent, but he is happy to repeat himself when required--but you have to make sure he knows you missed it, because he has a tendency to miss those signs, among other things. He seems to zone out a lot, and will trip over objects too. His name is Fendrel. He does not flirt, as his Husband wouldn't like it. [Hired Recently] Young man with long, red braids and grey eyes. He is perhaps 18, and quite talkative. He has his left eyebrow pierced three times and both ears filled with hoops and cuffs on his cartilage. He sometimes gets distracted by the bard, or pretty women. Wentree frequently gets on him about staying about his work. His name is Mism. [Hired Recently] Toilet Scrubber Not all the dragons fell during battle. One so-called "Tom" managed to fall inside the range of Ghallen's protective magic, sparing his life when the Dragon Cultist General decided to hit friends and foes with a blast of necrotic magic designed to drain life from others. Ghallen later found him playing "dead" as he was told to, and could see that the dragon-kin really did feel bad about the whole ordeal--those cultists, they sure can be convincing! So, Ghallen got him patched up, but not all is amended yet. The Tavern expects people to earn their keep, and that those who wish to reform their way should do so through hard labor. Vaddock set the dragon-kin to work as the official toilet-scrubber, keeping the privies clean. So far, he's been doing a pretty good job. His name is Zezzicryt, but most just call him "Z." He is 7' tall, and rather intimidating at first glance, especially for those who fought them. The veterans of the battle eye him suspiciously, but Vaddock feels like he might really mean to turn over a new leaf. Nevertheless, he still has Hand keep a close eye on him.
  9. 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."
  10. Word spread surprisingly fast in Izral, especially considering the disparity of power between the classes and a lack of any true governmental organization at play. That news could even traverse the expanse of the region was miraculous enough, never mind the veracity of the claims. They, being the talkers that ‘They’ were, claimed the slave market of Izral was in ruins. The life blood of several powerful merchant princes was being spilt and the grossly wealthy addressed the issue as only they could...by throwing money at it. With the slave trade on its last legs many merchant Princes were forced to protect their own interests: a mercenary’s wet dream. The call for bounty hunters had never been so loud as it was now. Velleh Ah’bjyd was far from the wealthiest merchant prince, but he was certainly the most vain. Unfortunately, for Ah’bjyd his obsessive need for the finer things in life left him practically destitute. Aside from his lavish estate, the Merchant Prince was virtually penniless and with the slave trade dwindling, necessity saw him parting with some of his more exotic artifacts just to maintain his luxurious lifestyle. Mercenaries and bounty hunters alike flocked to the various merchant princes to offer their services. Whether to fill the ranks of the Prince's personal guard, or to hunt down any fleeing servants who thought to make off with pricey trinkets amidst the turmoil. So it was that Garland found himself welcomed with open arms (so to speak) at the Ah’bjyd estate. In truth, his reasons for being there had little to do with the acquisition of coin and everything to do with sweet, sweet revenge. It took every ounce of Garland's self control to even look at the Ah'bjyd estate without vomiting. Every step he made felt weighed down by the shackles no longer fastened about his limbs. Peering down at scarred wrists, the youth ran an absent minded hand over the white patches of flesh that marred his otherwise tan complexion. It truly was a miraculous happenstance, this thorn in slavery’s side. No one thought the tall broad youth anything more than another sell sword. The heavyset man stationed at the guard house, waved Garland in and gestured for him to stand out of the doorway. "It's protocol..." the large man said, running thick fingers through his patchwork beard. "We get so many of you folks...er...I mean workers...not Izrali...I'm half-Izrali myself, on my mother's side...um...." Garland quirked a brow, uncertain exactly how one addressed a harmless faux pas. Truthfully, there were a great many social cues, the broad youth was rather clueless about. "Is Lord Ah'bjyd at the estate?" Garland asked, struggling to keep an even tone. The guard nodded. "Doesn't leave...um...er...Oh, I need your name...and uh...oh yeah, are you applying for a guard posting or were you um...here for something else." Garland pointed at the man, "The first one...the Guard posting. Yep. I'm a...expert at...keeping people alive," The heavyset man nodded his head and flipped through various forms on the table. "Great! Great! We...ah...we've been a little short staffed as of late...um...what with the um...difficulties with the unpaid laborers departing." Unpaid laborers? Garland had never heard slaves referred to as such, but he supposed it wasn't technically wrong. The heavyset guard rose from his chair and handed Garland a slip of parchment and a pen. "Fill this out and we'll contact you within 48 hours..." Garland did not take the pen. "I was hoping to start immediately." The guard paused and shook his head. "Captain Rothschild will want to do a small background check on you, it's not strenuous...just a cursory thing..." Garland peered down at the pen. It was going to be difficult to fill that form out when he couldn't even read. Already things seemed to be derailing in a monumental fashion. "Ah...I can't really read." Garland explained. "Just never really picked it up." It wasn't unheard of, some children from the Izrali slums never attended a day of school...so long as they assumed Garland to be an Izrali peasant and not an escaped slave... "Oh...um...what did you say your name was again?" The guard asked, turning back towards his desk, a large pudgy hand reaching for his radio." Garland moved without thinking and slammed his hand into the guard's back, using a rush of air to slam the large man against the desk with enough force to drive the wind out of him and send a stream of spittle against safety glass in front of him. "So much for that plan..." Garland muttered to himself, reaching down to snap the guard's neck with practiced ease. The sound and scent of loosening bowels filled the guardhouse, prompting Garland to sigh heavily. "Well...I don't think your pants would have fit me anyway..."
  11. 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.
  12. 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.
  13. In Dougton, there was once an orphanage. It was capable of housing 24 children - quite the feat for a single headmistress. It was a gorgeous home with an inviting layout. Though it's headmistress had long ago disappeared, and various schemes had been planned behind it's walls, it had finally been given hope once more. Rebirth through the war, an opportunity to help. Those children displaced by the current civil war are most welcomed, with open (though slightly green) arms. The orphanage runs off of self-sustainability, a small farmyard behind the house, and lanterns to light their way. Children who come to this place are taught all the basic skills, as well as how to defend themselves to some minor degree. This is to hope that they will never become victims to tyranny, or will choose to stand against what they know is wrong. A strong sense of moral Justice is offered to those willing to learn it. For the moment, the orphanage only houses several children. While scared and distrustful, they have come to think of the orphanage as a second home where they will be protected and safe. Dhizzandra watches over them with pleased determination. The Dryad is simply happy to have a place to belong in this world - and she is pleased to help others, as well. Children 5 Adults 18 Completion of necessary buildings 50% Important threads/children acquisition: Home of the Brave. Children currently available for adoption: Blairville children: Peter – Age 12 – Blonde and amber eyed. He is a cautious, but brave young man who dislikes bullying. Lucy – Age 8 – Shy and slow to trust, a little bit bossy, as well. Lucy is definitely a kid who requires patience. Ruby – Age 6. Sweet and all too trusting, she’s got a sweet tooth like no other, however. Adopted by Rabbit. Izral Children: Susan – Age 14 – An older, jaded girl who was rescued by Jericho from a brothel in Izral. She doesn’t have much hope for the world, but she’s learning that not everyone is bad. Adopted by Danzilla3 Brinley – Age 8 – Young and cheerful, she takes joy in simple things. Jessica – Age 6 – Another young and cheerful child. She likes butterflies and flowers, but we aren’t into the flavor red this week. William – age 4. – This young boy loves to run in mud puddles and play with worms, as young boys tend to do. Caitlyn – 6 months – Often influenced by William regarding bugs and mud. She particularly dislikes nap-time. Derrick – Age 10 – Idolizes Peter and wants to protect the others from ever being treated poorly again. He’s often defensive on first meetings. Jonathan – Age 1 – Babbles with attitude. Hates diapers. Andromeda – Age 6 months – Sleeps a lot, when not screaming. Daniella – Age 10 – Sullen and moody, prone to dramatics. Kendra – Age 12 – Preteen. No more need be said. Adopted by Rabbit.
  14. To the Southwestern border they visited the City of Martial Town, had it been up for grabs or not was uncertain. However, the relatively close proximity of it being near the Glen sparked enough interest for Him of Crows to take a glance at the Cyberpunk City and evaluate it as he thought fit. While the town was a diverse one in many black marketed trades, usage of illegal technologies and not to forget the rumored Way Gate something Choisel could have gained in favor against His opposition. This city once thrived or so rumor had it. Even with it’s military they could not stop the high rates of crime, conflict or strife. Poverty and unemployment was something perhaps the Kronos could overturn, manipulate, and alter. So, His visit though to much of his preparation had been short in notice he did not travel with the entire Coven this time around as he had in Tia the Copper City, no. There would have been too many prowling eyes, lurking in the shadows. His objective required little to no attention, the streets were hot already. Yet, that did not worry the Patriarch of the Glen, it would have only thwarted His timely fashion of things. A few days had passed since their arrival. Slowly, Leinhart and Tatia infected it’s streets with Choisel vitality. Outbreaks only took twenty-four hours to change their victims no matter the race Elven, Dwarven, Orcish, and the most favorable of all the Humans. From an abandoned apartment building on the outskirts of the Core they operated attacking those off all social castes. Leinhart discriminated nobody the rich, the poor, the old, the young. However, their activities were carefully planned atleast for now taking captured hostages back to the chambers of the rundown three-story apartment building, some of which were killed there. Carcasses strewn across the suite they resided temporarily. So far, maybe twenty citizens had been turned and another fifteen were killed out of thirst from their feeding. Mind you, it had been nearly five decades since the Pureblood fed directly into the flesh of the living and he could not resist any more temptations. Drinking blood bags was sufficient, yet as an evolving lich, eating away at the souls of His victims went a lot more beneficiary. Ingesting the knowledge of His fallen foes, in which those from Martial Town provided Him the necessary information of it’s layout and surrounding areas. It was in that alone Leinhart had obtained an understanding of the land, that and what little given from the local vampyre in the region of the Glen whom also were familiar with the Cyberpunk City. It was also true that once the infection had spread even if it was only in a single victim .... the virus was contagious. In essence, all that was needed was a single person to infect another, then another, and that person infecting another ..... this was, a chain reaction. A highly effective route of maintaining a low profile with his Countess Tatia. Feasting directly from the Blood did however, put Him of Crows into a state of feral mind he could never return from. The true monstrosity of his undeath has unfold and he was back, like he never left. “My love, Tatia. Tonight we shall visit the Purple Penguin nightclub. It is a less policed area of the city, as so our informants have told. We shall mingle with the people there, lure them in of course with enchantment as we have ..... only to continue to spread our vitality amongst them as we have these streets. Dress yourself, accordingly, alluring as ever if you must my beautiful Countess.” While He was rather less elegantly dressed in these parts Leinhart still clothed himself in a scarlet tailcoat with matching slacks - he assumed the role of a successful business entrepreneur for identity. Safe to say, he played the position well. His long, wavy cascades of ash black hair fell to his hips and his eyes did not revert to their Goldenrod color - but remained icy blue behind the shade of his dark Armani tints. Standing in the doorway of the lightless living room, he glanced towards Tatia once again and delivered a tender kiss upon her forehead with thinned lips. A free hand went slapping towards her soft ass as he pulled her close taking in her immaculate beauty as if this was the last time they’d spend together. It was true, He seemed to make little time for Her yet, unintentionally. Yet this was also true, that tonight was going to be worth wild should he make it up to Her. @Eternity
  15. 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.
  16. Legacy of Requiem - The New Leaguers Prologue On this Earth, many things have happened, to the World's first Superhero, called Captain Shad, to an Arrogant Billionaire Assassin turned a Hero Bruce Morgan and to a Mighty Being called Magnus and his extraterrestrial homeworld, which was far away from Earth. One could say that this one has experienced quite enough, to the discovery of the Cosmic Twelve Beings called the Vestals and the Mad Vestal called Darkseid with his Kaethrani as an army and that other life forms exist on different planets. It would seem that Earth was no longer alone in the Universe so from that discovery, everything changed... These powered individuals would form a group called, the Destiny League. Which was once an idea to see if the world could bring powerful individuals into a team, so that they could fight the dangerous battles, that the humans never could. It was indeed a success but these Heroes did not know that they would cause other powerful beings to take an interest on the planet Earth, for Darkseid, the true enemy of Life, wanted to wipe out the entire Universe off of its life. He almost succeeded, for the half human and half vestal called Scar, the apparently chosen champion of the Vestals would stop him, which would only cause for the life in the universe to be only half wiped out. As the three long years would pass, the heroes would grief over their total failure and the ones that they have lost. But they were not without hope, because of Bruce's intellect they would discover the ability to travel through back in time, to collect the powerful Crystals, which was a device which gave the Vestals incredible power, they would collect them and come back in the present to undo what Darkseid did. But Darkseid was no fool, for he discovered the attempt to undo what he has done, because of Scar using the Crystals undoing what Darkseid did, they would then have the longest battle in history. The battle was indeed a long one and hard fought one at that, but the heroes would win, because Scar sacrificed himself and used the Crystals and kill Darkseid and unfortunately because not even Scar could use the unlimited and limitless power twice, which created the Universe, only Darkseid could have but that extracted a very heavy toll. Scar would die a noble death, his sacrifice would not be in vain, the same would go for the rest of the other fallen heroes....this was the story of Infinity Requiem but now a new one beginnings... Rules -No killing/seriously maiming other characters without player consent. -No metagaming or godmoding. -No auto-hitting; no auto-dodging, keep it real to some extent. -Please keep characters balanced, and avoid creating any Mary Sues. You can have a strong/powerful character, but they still need limits, flaws, and weaknesses. -While Players are not limited at how many characters one can have. I prefer if you have two-three characters and can play them well, instead of having five of them and are not fully fleshed out, so please keep in mind Quality over Quantity. -Please try to keep your character sheets up-to-date over the course of the game. While the Character Sheets on here are not a must, I prefer if you at least did a quick one so that I can get the feeling to see what the character is, what can it do and so on. It can be also very detailed but it doesn't need to, just tell the important stuff if you don't want to take your time. -While Superheroes are needed in this setting, I don't force you to make them be paragons of virtue and morality, but some good hero characters are needed for this story as well, so please keep the balance between Villains and Heroes, I don't want to see that there are too many Villains and no Heroes to combat them or wise versa. You can play as Hero, Anti-Hero, Villain, Anti-Villain and other affiliations. -OOC discussion will be kept civil and respectful, both in the RP and in the PM. I will not tolerate name-calling, insults, harassment, or anything else of the kind. -While it does not have to be totally PG-13, please keep it clean, no explicit content and excessive Adult themes, while your characters can swear, don't make it too excessive, keep it balanced and please keep it clean. If you want to have a romance, again doesn't need to follow the PG-13 Rule but it does not have to be explicit content like we are in a Pornographic Setting, so keep it to some extent clean and viewer friendly. -Please refrain from making OOC-only posts in the RP. -Other standard Valucre Rules. -Failure to abide by these rules can result in your removal from Legacy of Requiem - The New Leaguers. Information Now there are some things, I want to mention before we can get started. This RP tells a story, while you are free to roam around and create some side plots which can also be significant to the plot which drives this story. You can't just do whatever you want, kill my characters or something like that. You are free to roam around, but you wouldn't get to destroy planets or something on a planetary level, you must first talk with me to see if I agree with you and to see if it does fit in my story...which I can already say it won't happen, this Earth will not live another big fight which could possibly end the universe, because the world now needs to grow accustomed with the new heroes, which is you, the player so till then, there wouldn't be that kind of scale of battle, for the time being. Also, there are some races in my universe, for example, the Cosmic Beings which are the Vestals and live in a different reality called Vestalia, but sadly you won't get to play them because they are freaking powerful, you can interact with them but battling against them won't bring you anywhere because they are powerful and basically they have plot armor, and there will never be another Mad Vestal, Darkseid was the only one and now he is dead, thankfully. The Kaethrani, are energy beings with control over energy manipulation, so it means that they are killable but it is really hard to do so and they have no home planet they roam the galaxy and when they grow tired they go in their pocket dimension which is a place for them to rest. So I don't recommend doing one of them if so maybe a downgraded version of the real thing because these dudes can destroy solar systems if they want to. And they are basically viewed as evil monsters so yeah not good to get things started. There are also Devine Beings, which are practically what the Asgardians are, that's what Magnus is. The differences are that they can have wings, interact with humans, live on planet earth and do not have a shady past. I don't have anything on you doing a Devine Being character, also known: Angel, Angelic Being. But I'd like if you would talk with me first to come to an agreement and see where this might lead because there is this Homeworld called Zuerus, which is a huge planet, it's earth 15 times the size so yeah. And there is this king called Allbeing Omen who is the father of Magnus. There are also meta-humans, of course, you can play them since they are not that powerful but I do recommend to keep them balanced and not too op. There is also a bit of John Wick/Assassin's Creed references around here, but I am not looking for that, for if I would have, I wouldn't call this a Superhero RP, but if you want to play as one, let me firstly know and we'll see what we can figure out. So you have a lot of room to experiment with, create any character you want, except for the Vestals and Kaethrani, because come on, no one likes battling against powerful beings which can take supernovas any day of the week. So you are free to experiment just let me know what kind of character that is, send me the link of the character sheet, again it does not need to be overly detailed but the most important stuff must be there so I know what characters you are playing and so that the other players will know too. Also, I have my share bit of characters, so I'll be sure to do my character sheets so that you may get the idea who they are, what have they done, what can they do, personal stuff about them and so on. And if you have any questions about the Homeworld called Zuerus and anything really, ask me in the OOC Thread and I'll gladly to respond to you. Also, the story takes place in America, and some heroes may live in different cities but their DL Tower would be located in New York. If you want to sign up your characters with a link to your sheets, here it is the link where you can tag me and post them so that I may take a look at them: The Story It is the year 2040, for the past decade the world has changed, technology has evolved beyond our expectations but the Cities still remain normal, there are no over the top cities, it mainly remained the same over the years but technology has improved significantly, it surely did not stay the same after the Cataclysm which wiped out half of the Universe's life because of Darkseid, but because of his death alongside Earth's Greatest Protector Scar, everything returned to normal. At least, so it would seem because some of the heroes have fallen in battle and died and others have retired and now the people of Earth are still trying to recover after the past three years since they won the battle against Darkseid, the World was not in chaos but it was in dire need of new heroes, to protect them and save them when need be. The Fallen Leaguers are: Scar, Bambu, Voltex, and Logan. The Retired Leaguers are: Shad, Reyes, Jade, Katrina, Falcon, Mike, Vience, James and John. The Remaining Leaguers: are: Bruce, Magnus, Spider-Man, Jack, Nathan, and Doctor Mercy Earth has lost some of its protectors, be it retired or by death. But fear not, because Bruce now the leader of the Destiny League and the others would guide you the player through this story. They will be there for you and serve as a mentor figure, it was time for the New Leaguers to appear to take the place of the old ones so that they one day could rest on a grateful planet, but the real question is, are you ready to take that kind of responsibility? what are you prepared to do? will you be a Villain? Hero? something in between? one which only fights for himself? it was time to figure those questions out...
  17. Security today was on a redeye, caffeine and greasy food drip feed at the Purple Penguin. One or two people would come, and, once, as many as a group of five, but they all received the same treatment. To be turned away. Twice, the ensuing argument escalated to a physical confrontation, but Purple Penguin’s security carried wands. Not the friendly neighborhood magician kind, either. The sort that had names like ‘Wand of Theodore’s Infernal Salvo’, or ‘Wand of Sebastian’s Wailing Whoreson’. Free thinker, the sorcerer Sebastian. This wasn’t a typical night, so one could forgive the confusion and outrage at being turned away at the door; they might as well question the virility and masculinity of those men, what with how important being seen in the Purple Penguin could be. That social credit wasn’t going to generate itself. No, normal was a throng of degenerates, all pushing and shoving at one another, their pressing forward, yelling, cursing, and trying to get past security and into the club. Where the music was loud and the drinks hard, and the drugs flowed like the river Styx, carrying you to numb, mindless oblivion. Literally. Look, don’t do drugs in Palgard, kids. Decked from head to toe in black and gray, with armor simultaneously enjoying the benefits of a self-repairing magical Shell and the physical, if mundane, attenuative properties of some material they didn’t care to learn more about, Artean was the least confused of everyone not actually inside the club. And that was because Artean knew what was happening. !!00:00!! Time. Resetting count. A helpful internal monologue began, but Artean grunted a sub-vocal command and the timer halted, flashing annoyingly in their field of vision before it was waved away. In that moment, the security at the door shuffled to the side, letting one of the Bessho-kai through, followed by a small figure with a bag over their head, hands behind their back, and two more of the Bessho-kai. Two of the three thugs had carried nothing visible on them as a weapon, but Artean’s predictive interface alerted to several likely possibilities; it was the man in the lead that worried Artean most out of the three, however. He carried a large, fist-sized bell, the color of jade, holstered carefully to his belt. Faith-based magic was always a surprise, and, without fail, an annoyance to deal with. Anomaly detected. Continue predictive analysis? Yes, Artean said in another sub-vocal command, stiffening in anticipation of the data dump. A moment passed, and then Artean knew what the bell was. The Mother’s Incessant Needling, which meant the name either didn’t translate well to Terric, or that the predictive modeling of the Oracle construct still needed some work. Artean’s guess was both, or that the priest or priestess that made the item needed to work on some things. That said, the weapon was hardly a surprise. The Bessho-kai had a reputation; they were honorable, in the sense that they would keep their word; they were violent, but not abusive so long as you knew your place; and they took their strain of religion very seriously indeed, with their grandfathers and grandmothers, devout in their faith, highly placed. Near-sacred instruments of power weren’t common, but they weren’t uncommon either. Artean stood from their prone position and faded back, dropping over the lip of the tenement building they had been using for surveillance, and made their way down the side of the building, careful to avoid making too loud of a noise, and only touching down as the group passed through the alley, with them a good several feet ahead. Quiet as a wraith, Artean surged forward, the light-polluted night darkening as shadows deepened, pooling in thick ribbons across the ground. A translucent blade formed around Artean’s fingers, which were extended and held rigid as the hand came down in a chop, the aura of power making up for the difference in reach between Artean and the nearest Bessho-kai. !!E͠R̵͔̫̬̲̯͉̞R̗͈̭͙͉RRO͏̯̪R̩̱!! The trailing thug turned, preceded by the white outline of his future self, and ghost-fire gushed from his mouth, with his real-self threatening to realize the event as the Oracle foresaw. Artean pulled back, the force aura transmuting from a blade to a half-dome shield, bleeding off fire in a wave as heat dispersed against the armor’s shell enchantment. Spectral fireballs loomed in the near future, and the smallest of the figures was pulled away by the lead thug, who rushed away as the two other Bessho-kai began their assault in earnest. Artrean retreated back in time to avoid being overwhelmed, ducking outside the alley and using the wall for cover. Several lines fractured the field of vision, warning Artean of the damage the mask had sustained.
  18. 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.
  19. 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.
  20. 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
  21. [Recap] In these past events, the Kingdom of Taurus and it's Ruler has seen much change. Seeking answers in regard to his origins and his fathers legacy, Proteus Rauz found himself exiled to the Celestial Realm---Where the Absolute Authority, confines and contains the remaining progenitors of his race. Time stood still there... he was subjected to their test, trials and tribulations and experimentation, meanwhile the kingdom and home he knew would be devoid of his presence for over 1,000 years. Proteus' liberation came at the expense of the captives lives. Destroying the last remnants of his bloodline, retaking prized possessions destined for his ownership and flinging himself back across the planes of existence and back home where he emerged anew. Proteus Rauz had emerged Anew. Changed. Different. Not only was he far older, hardened even, his powers had grown exponentially as did his control over them. His views and outlooks on his path and those of his people had also been altered. Having established a relationship with the powers that be in the lands of Alterion, Proteus, under his own power had moved the entirety of his kingdom from the Lands of Genesaris, to the Spirit Realm of Xaengri-La. Where he would be free from mortal observation. Where his prominence could have neither positive or negative effects on the lands surrounding his kingdom, so that no balances could be tipped or disturbed and that no other governing body could benefit nor suffer. However, even as he established his kingdom, and their outer realm territories, Proteus Rauz' ideals and goals have widened and expanded. He had become somewhat of a Nihilist, embracing what he had discovered what his original intent and reason for being was. TO BRING ABOUT DEATH AND DESTRUCTION, TO ALL. His re-emergence , and return to the throne under this new ideology has put many of his closest ally's and family at an unease, Even the Queen, Priscilla---His birth mother, and the one who worked the hardest to bury the secrets of Bulls origins and true nature, has found herself at her absolute wits end as to how to guide or manager her son, and after his re-emergence, far to under-powered to force anything upon him. So silently she has watched, ever so diligently as Proteus sets about procuring the knowledge needed to accomplish his goal. His one true ideal, his one true intention----TO BECOME DEATH ITSELF. [And now....] His throne room used to bathe light. Every square inch of it, illuminated from the free flowing light from yonder. That has drastically changed. Large metal shutters existed where windows once were. They kept this place devoid of light. It was insulated, sounds were equally scarce save for that of the constant HUM of raw unbridled power flowing through 4 massive umbilical cords that ran beneath the ground up behind his throne and into a custom fitment that affixed into hard points on his back. The ONLY light present within this rume was from the Rune Brands aglow along his body in a blood red hue. It was there that he sat. His body constantly absorbing and harmonizing the seemingly limitless ebb and flow of spatio-temporal-anima present in the limitless expanse of this spiritual realm. Disconnected from his people. Departed from a society that he helped to sculpt and once coveted, but nowadays, feared him as they never have before. The Council had long been killed and disbanded by his own hand save for one who squandered away still within the confines of their prison. In truth there was only one thing that could keep Proteus situated as he was now. He had no intent on moving, nor a desire to do so because simply put he was waiting on something. That something was coveted. Desired and favored above anything at this time and it was the only thing that eluded him these days. It was pure. It was valued by anything and everyone be they Man, King or God. There was nothing exempt from it's benefit and there in it lied no TRUE face value for it, but there was also no limit to what would be expended for it. Knowledge. Plain and simple. He needed the means and understanding as to how to go about achieving his goal---which for the most part was thought to be inconceivable and impossible, however, when the Absolute authority. The Omnipotent one. "The Creator" himself, assures you that such is NOT beyond the realm of a being such as himself----You take that notion for what it's worth. There was one individual who had such knowledge, or at least could point him in the direction. This being, is and always will be favored. His most beloved. One to whom he trusted the most. Covets the most. Priscilla...The Queen, and his mother. Despite who she was to him she has also coincidentally been the greatest source of obscurity and deception. The understanding of these facts and the dynamics of them all has left Proteus shifted in stance. Wavered, somewhat unsure. As a child he clung to her every word. She molded his beliefs, directed his ideals and aspirations, All for what?? To lie? To keep the truth away from him? For what purpose? Some selfish ideal of goal of her own? It was to much for him to understand. To much for him to process, and whenever his mother was around the King was nothing short of contrived. However....she held the keys, she knew the ways, and his current goals and aspirations although no favored by her, were goals she could help him achieve. So he sat....and waited. For her.. @Lacernella Rubra
  22. --(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.
  23. - Deep in the Terrenus Wilderness - - Moi's Clearing, Great Pine Barrens - The sweet songs of wildlife filled the forest in celebration. At peace without the stench of Human to draw their noses. The Sun rose high above the trees over a clearing revealing a black fox and a red raven dancing around a shadowy orb.
  24. Outsider. Unnatural. Heretic. Bittersweet were the epithets that tripped off the wagging tongues of those who could not appreciate Caeceila Glasmann's affliction. In their unflagging ignorance, the superstitious and the malcontent readily misrepresented Caeceila's motives and branded her with all manner of vulgar misnomers, none of which bear repeating, that overplayed her purported ruthless efficiency and insatiable lust for blood. Of late, Hell's Gate was a cornucopia of such rumors where the nobility was concerned, particularly in drinking establishments frequented by the lower classes. In truth, anyone who was anyone could testify that none of these labels applied to Caeceila, for definitive knowledge of her condition, at least among the powers that be, easily outpaced the gossipmongers' litany. Nevertheless, a convenient lie coupled with Caeceila's newfound notoriety had transformed her into a symbol entities with an agenda could assail. She was much despised by the downtrodden who had lost their livelihoods to astounding advances in industrial automation, marked forever as a noble who cared more for the welfare of strangers than the poignant suffering of her own people, and they sought to vilify her for that injustice whether or not she was a deserving recipient of their rage. Was it any surprise, then, that drunken rabble had assembled at the gates of the Glasmann Estate, brandishing crude, improvised weaponry, approximately a quarter of an hour before guests were permitted to set foot on the premises? Not at all. Nor was it especially alarming when the mob forced itself past the team of young, well-groomed servants unfurling plush crimson carpets in advance of whatever might constitute the evening's opening ceremony, hellbent on vandalizing Caeceila's property. It was the terror that gripped the intruders in the chaotic retreat that ensued, the sustained shrieking of adult men carted out on stretchers, and the wild-eyed stares of the handful who were silent that caused the local looky-loos to quietly disperse, leaving only the scarce few who weren't so intimidated by Caeceila's show of force that they dare not brave her lair and risk her wrath. When the servants were recalled and the stout, ebony gate slid aside, its steady, telescoping motions doing much to enrich the pageantry of the reveal, a cavernous expanse illuminated by an artificial star stretched out before the audience. A tremendous collection of life-sized metal soldiers, facing inward toward the crimson finery neatly draped over the mass of platforms spread before a fleet of luxurious hovercraft, chartered for the express purpose of conveying guests from the entrance to the estate to the manor's great hall, scintillated in rays of light cast by the setting "sun," a soft, white orb that engendered no discomfort in the eye when viewed directly. A host of six-legged robots, mobile artillery units, judging by their heavy-duty design and menacing black frames, skittered in the distance, their imposing armaments repurposed for the night's festivities, firing a ceaseless barrage of cylindrical canisters that erupted into fantastical shapes cut from brilliant light into the air above crowd. The air itself was sweet with the amalgamated scent of beds of magnolia and lilac in blossom, courtesy of a microhabitat enabled by the city's world-renowned magitech. Indeed, all kinds of flowering flora dotted the landscape, tended, as they were, by swarms of butterflies so garish their admirers might get the impression that they too dressed their Sunday best for just this occasion. Empty birdcages are suspended from towering trees, implying that the exotic songbirds they once held have been moved elsewhere until the fireworks show concludes. The palatial structure that serves as the Glasmann residence proudly stands in consummate contrast to the bulk of Hell's Gate. Artistry and craftsmanship adorn every shining facet of the ancient domicile. Each stone bespeaks both the longevity and prosperity of the venerable Glasmann line, as if the fates of House Glasmann and the city of Hell's Gate were inextricably interwoven in days of yore. Much of the central structure, in fact, predates what is now considered the basic infrastructure of Hell's Gate, painstakingly preserved from the first settlement and transferred to the modern age with a profound reverence for tradition that is so very lacking in a great number of Hell's Gate's modern nobility. All of the glasswork in the older sections of the manor has been recently rehabilitated, allowing the throng of onlookers to examine renditions of Caeceila's ancestors and key events in the history of Hell's Gate through various viewscreens in the hovercrafts as they soar toward the newest wing of the manor, a staggeringly advanced wing constructed primarily from concrete, steel, glass, and composite materials. Several other buildings are visible from the hovercraft, including a private airship dock, servants' quarters, and what appears to be a small communications center flying Drow colors, but none can hope to hold a candle to the sprawling behemoth that is the Glasmann manor. Almost universally, the atmosphere is charged with magic and excitement, for this is the maiden unveiling of the Glasmann Estate. The news crews that remain descend into a dizzying spirals of feverish activity as influential and inconsequential members of society alike are whisked, as one, into this veritable wonderland that was hiding beneath their very noses. Upon disembarking at the great hall and proceeding through its titanic, metal doors, all guests, having checked in with the servants manning the gates prior to their admittance to a hovercraft, are issued a magitech tablet displaying the itinerary for the event and assigned a personal servant who shall see to their needs for the duration of the event. After this, guests are permitted to wander the great hall and the lawn in front of the great hall with the caveat that the uppermost balcony, accessible by both a staircase and an elevator, is a restricted area. For the majority, there is little draw in scaling that cordoned off staircase, for the diversions available on the first floor, mezzanine, and lawn are guaranteed to entertain even the most boorish partygoer. From skeet shooting and dueling with foils to sipping aged Yamazaki whiskey, snacking on hors d'oeuvres prepared by a teppanyaki chef, and chatting about relics, tapestries, and hunting trophies locked in various display cabinets or fixed to the dark purple wall above the handcarved wainscoting before the roaring fire of the great hearth, all ought to find something they can enjoy until the event gets underway. Yet... The organizer of the event, Caeceila Glasmann, is nowhere to be found. As with the interlopers, this is no real cause for alarm... Except that those sensitive to the paranormal will sense that the veil is especially weak in this manor. Something is amiss, but there's no time to investigate now. A bell rings, signaling that the first round has begun. White leather armchairs, velveteen loungers, mahogany furniture, fur rugs, Byōbu and sundries have been placed on the mezzanine and the first floor to facilitate social interaction with the intent of strengthening Valucre as a whole.
  25. 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....
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