Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

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Post  TD260 on Sat Mar 17, 2012 9:35 pm

"shitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT"

TD looked back over his shoulder, and saw perry flailing people around on chains.

Alright, he's got that covered. But how do I deal with this...

TD stood off to one corner of the front of the room- the giant demon slug thing was in front of him, and so was Ashvald.

How the hell do I kill this bastard? He's got that demon behind him, and the demon knows every move we're going to make...


An arrow whizzed passed his shoulder as a band of archers and one guy in thick armor and a shield as tall as he was stepped into the room.

Oh great. Reinforcements. I wonder...

TD looked at his sword, then a wicked grin crept across his face.

"I wonder what the conductivity of plate mail is..."

He raised his sword and the air grew thick with the smell of electricity as sparks jumped across the blade, before closing in on the knight.

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Post  Raya on Sun Mar 18, 2012 2:02 pm

Spoiler:
The joy of writing at 6am again Razz

There was complete pandemonium in the cavern. Guards were swarming in in an attempt to subdue these rebels whilst the party guests were on the verge of becoming a panicked mob, unsure of whether to bolt to safety or stay put. Ashvald and various high ranking officials were screaming at their men to hurry up and put down the fighters, a fair few no doubt wishing they’d had a lot less to drink.

Raya had been gradually fighting her way towards Quaetam, seeing that a large part of the aggro was being directed towards him. As well as he was holding his ground it was still an unimpressively unfair fight. She saw the ten guards encircling him and made her move. Charging she rammed her right sword through the spine of one guard, striking out with the left and severing the windpipe of a second. The circle broken she darted through the opening and reached Quaetam.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said with a small smile.

“Likewise,” his gaze flicked to her for a second and then back as the guards overcame their surprise and charged forward. Quaetam focused his power into his blades, parrying and counter-attacking, and behind him he could hear Raya doing the same, the pair standing back to back and holding off the assault. It suddenly occurred to him that she was trusting him to cover her back. He said nothing and concentrated on the battle.

Between them they dispatched their attackers and found themselves in a sudden lull. Quaetam glanced about him, spotting Ashvald up on the altar.

“We’ve got to stop him,” he said, indicating the High Justice. Raya nodded and made to reply when a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air an inch from their heads, causing them to duck. They whirled at the source of the arrow- a quarreller already reloading his crossbow ready for the next shot. Raya turned back to Quaetam.

“I’ll take care of this guy, you go stop Ashvald.” He hesitated and she gave him a gentle shove “Move it you idiot before someone else kicks his ass.”

Quaetam bobbed in acknowledgement and disappeared into the melee. Raya turned back to the crossbowman when THUNK, a bolt thudded into her shoulder, the metal tip painfully impacting into the scapula. She staggered, in complete surprise seeing a second quarreller standing close to the first. Of course, what an idiot, why did she think they’d only be one-

The first raised his crossbow and she threw herself aside, but not fast enough, the bolt burying itself into her thigh, sending her crashing to her knees. The pain was immense and as she looked up saw the second one take aim again. Her moment of terror at impending death was suddenly twisted into a furious instinct of self-preservation. Burning strength filled her body and she launched herself forward, clearing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. With a sweep of a blade she severed the quarreller’s lower arms, dropping him to the floor. She spun and lashed out, slicing the top of the skull off the other one before he could react, a look of shock frozen onto his face. Panting heavily she growled and kicked out at the bodies when thunk, another bolt pierced her side and wedged itself between the ribs. She whirled to see another unit of five, all taking aim and firing their salvo at once. She snarled and in a blur moved faster than they could see, slicing the arrows in half in midair, the bolts raining uselessly to the floor. Before they could even give exclamations of surprise she was upon them with a savage screech.

Fighting his way towards his friends Avalanche had spotted Quaetam and Raya holding off the guards. He struggled his way to them only to see Quaetam move off and seconds later Raya get shot twice. He panicked, for a terrible moment filled with terror at the thought of her being killed, pushing his way through the crowds in a desperate attempt to get closer. He broke through to find her nowhere in sight, but following the trail of mutilated bodies made it easy enough to locate her. The crossbowmen had been reduced to bloodied hunks of flesh which she continued to lash out at, hacking away and snarling madly as she did so, seemingly oblivious to the three crossbow bolts that still remained wedged in her. Avalanche jogged up behind.

“Hey, Raya, are you alr-“

She whirled and pounced on him, knocking him flat and smashing his head into the floor with such force his consciousness swam and his vision flickered into blackness. He forced his sight to clear and found Raya sitting on him, what he thought for a moment was a look of inhuman savagery replaced by concern and confusion.

“Av?” she asked, voice unsteady as though it was a struggle to use it “Are you alright?”

He managed a weak smile “Heh, and here I thought you’d be the sort of girl to at least buy me dinner first.”

She realised how they were sitting and flushed with embarrassment, and then the pain kicked in. She yelped and tumbled off him and he sat up, rubbing the back of his sore head. He reached out for his staff as she wrapped her hand around the bolt in her shoulder, braced herself and yanked it out, hissing in pain as it came free with a spurt of blood.

”Gah,” she gasped, tears stinging her eyes “Hurts like a bitch.”

“I can’t do much about the pain dear,” he smiled, healing the wound as she pulled the other bolts out. They got back to their feet and he thought about commenting on the fact she had been somehow running about with three arrows stuck in her but decided against it. Another thought struck him “Hey, didn’t Fed offer to be your bodyguard? Where is he?”

They glanced about, unable to pick him out in the chaos, when finally they spotted him, moving unsteadily forward towards the altar as though in a daze, unheeding of the events around him. They cursed and hurried towards him.

_________________
HG/SS Friends Code: 2364 8721 9695   B/W Friends Code: 2193 7770 9554   X/Y Friends Code:1805-2682-3033
"Foxes never lose their tricks, do they?" - Quaetman
"We'll be going about our business one day and then someone will be like "hm, where's Barda" and Raya will all suspiciously be like "WELL DON'T LOOK AT ME"..." - Rocket Admin Camilla
King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.
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Post  Sahrimnir on Tue Mar 20, 2012 6:17 am

Sahrimnir's failed attempt at stabbing the demon obviously caused another inner dialogue.

The question is: Does it actually see into the future where we will be or does it read our mind and see where we plan to be?

Who cares? Let me at it!

Well, if it's the former I'm not sure we can win this, but if it's the latter your thoughtless fighting might actually work.

So I might be able to defeat it by not knowing what the hell I'm doing? Come on, let's do some Confusion Fu on that thing!


At that moment, Raya is hit by a number of arrows.

Raya! We have to go help her!

Avalanche can handle it. We've got a demon to slay.

You can't be serious! How is this more important than our friend?

I have to say I agree with Yellow on this. I calculate the probability of the Confusion Fu actually working to be less than 30%. We will most likely do more good aiding Raya.


Avalanche approaches Raya.

See? I told you Avalanche would take care of it!

Avalanche is attacked by Raya.

Oh great. Now both of them need healing.

At the same time one of the guards makes a slash towards Sahrimnir, but Sahrimnir easily parries and follows up by stabbing the guard through the throat.

"Don't bother me while I'm having an inner dialogue!"
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Post  Avalanche on Thu Mar 22, 2012 5:26 pm

Avalanche didn't quite as much fought his way towards his friends as he flailed and tried to reach his friends. The flailing around he did earlier might have served to bring a drunkard down, but he would have significantly less luck against a sober opponent.
Which meant he'd be safe as long as he didn't stray too much from the other guests of the party.
He glanced to his friends fighting the guards, and Sah who seemed to consider taking on the demon. His eyes briefly looked at the demon, and he was overcome by fear.
"Turn around, follow the guests and get out while you still can!" his mind went off. He closed his eyes, trying to close himself of from the chaos around him for a moment. The pressence of the demon threw him off.

He looked up and saw Q going after Ashvald while Raya jumped a guard and got shot.
"Fuck" he grumbled while getting up. He decided to avoid looking in the direction of the demon while shoving panicking guests aside to make his way to Raya. He was pretty sure he saw Barvus actually fell asleep on the ground.
"Raya, are you---" Avalanche was greeted by a pounce with the force of a particulary large angry dog. He looked right into wide, and savage eyes with a almost radioactivly green color.
"Raya?" he asked, definatly not showing a shiver of fear in his voice. He grabbed one of her arms, and feld how tense her muscles were. She blinked a few times and shook her head.
"Av?" she asked shakingly."Are you alright?" she looked confused, a little concerned even.
I'll ask what that was about when we're done here.....wait. I need to talk.....come on, wit...wit....wit....wit."
"Heh, and here I thought you’d be the sort of girl to at least buy me dinner first"
he said sheepishly with a weak smile.
"Fucking nailed it."

She sat back up, feeling a little emberassed from her pounce and pulled a bolt out. Avalanche cringed a little seeing the blood and hearing her gasp in pain, and imideatly started healing her, while trying to keep track of how the battle was going. It wasn't as bad as the 3 arrows that were lodged in Vandir's chest, thank gog. Her arm was pretty beat up though, and would turn into a bloody mess if she wasn't careful pulling the bolts out.
"Hurts like a bitch." she hissed pulling the second one out.
"I can't do much about the pain dear." he smiled warmly at her. He was satisfied with his work. It would heal up quite nicely, and might not even leave a scar once he's finished."Didn't you have a bodyguard? Where is Fed?" Avalanche didn't quite get it, but he wasn't panicking like he was earlier. He even went as far as to mentally snicker at the thought of using Fed as a human zombie shield. "Don't look at the fucking demon, stay with friends and I'll be fine." he repeated in his head as a soothing mantra.

Feday was moving towards the altar. Something about it seemed off. He walked as if he drank too much, and didn't pay attention to any of his surroundings. Raya wanted to move out already, but Avalanche pulled her back.
"Let go." She hissed.
"Your arm is still a fucking mess" Avalanche replied.
"Feday needs our help!"
"Feday is a big boy."
Avalanche replied, trying to sound calm. "Wait are her eyes turning green?"
"We need to help him Av"
she growled angrily.
"We will." Avalanche sighed."But stay still for a moment, so you can actually swing your arm without hurting yourself." Her sudden bloodlust confused him. He hoped it was just the moment. She seemed to give in though, and groaned frustrated while turning her wounded arm to him.
"Make it quick."
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Post  Ansem on Fri Mar 23, 2012 9:22 am

Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh CRAP

Ansem skittered trough the chaos, looking for the opportunity to do something useful. Q was handling guards, Perry was busy smashing shit up, and everyone seemed to be doing alright. Except for Raya and Av, who were healing up after a beating....And the big fuck off demon screeching. Shu'Sharradin....fuck that shit. Seriously. Demons? Fuck those things. Everyone knew Demons sucked donkeyballs...thought the guy who dressed up like one....

Ansem watched how Sah struck and failed with the Demon. If that didn't work, maybe some....

Ansem leaped forward and snatched a guest wearing a stupid little black mask. He was carrying a sword, but he didn't look like he belonged here.
"Are you with Ashvald?"
"Ofcourse, now help me, we need to get th-AAAARGH"
Without a second thought, Ansem grabbed the man by the neck and lifted him in the air. At that moment, he released the Taint unto the man, who dropped his sword in confusion, struggling against the iron grip Ansem seemed to have gained. Probably some left over power he took from the guards at Q's place. The taint sucked out this guy's life force quite rapidly. Great, he could use that well. He tossed the guy aside, probably dead, fucked if he cared, and ran towards Sah, forming a black and green shard that, quite frankly, looked evil as fuck.

"Dude, let's do this! Go charge the fucker, distract it, and i'll go blast it with this!"
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Post  Sahrimnir on Mon Mar 26, 2012 2:32 pm

Ansem is, quite frankly, looking evil as fuck right now.

Aren't you supposed to be the logical side? Why are you judging people by appearance like that?

Because he's looking evil as fuck!

Whatever! The two of us together might be able to kill the thing that we know actually is evil!

Good point.


"Right!"

Sahrimnir again raised his sword, charging it and preparing to strike.

We should say something cool and holy-sounding.

"And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger!"

With those words, Sahrimnir again charged forward with his charged sword and charged the demon.
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Post  Raya on Thu Mar 29, 2012 2:53 pm

Fedaykin staggered forward, one foot in front of the other, oblivious to the chaos raging around him. He could see the fighting, granted, but it was as if it didn't exist, nothing existed, and he was disassociated from reality. The noise was gone, instead replaced by the silent, incessant urge to move closer and closer towards the dais and the thing that lay upon it. As he approached the edges of his vision began to eat away, white noise crackling inside his brain, and somehow he began to see a shapeless form before him, a tear in existence beyond which lay unfathomable madness. Something within was moving, writhing, and now he could hear a voice, calling him.

Come to me, human. Come to me and be reborn.

Fed had no will to disobey. He moved forward and felt the presence begin to bleed into his mind, overwhelming his senses and taking control.

Yes, come to me, come to me and you shall be mine. You shall- The voice was abruptly cut off by the sound of scuffling and muffled curses in an alien language. The presence was abruptly ripped out of his mind and a different voice came through.

<Hey, can you hear me? Is this thing even on?>

Fedaykin reeled, one thing's influence replaced with another "Wha-"

<You're lucky I saved you there. That thing nearly had you. You were 10 seconds away from being a demonhost. That's a bad thing, by the way.>

"Wha-"

<Demons can't naturally exist in your reality. They need tithes and sacrifices to maintain themselves. But that Shu'Sharradin or whatever the fuck it's called is so powerful it's weakened the boundary between the two worlds. That thing I just kicked out was trying to slip through the barrier, using the gem you swallowed as a focus and your body as its own.> The voice chuckled <Seriously, did your mother never tell you not to put weird things in your mouth?>

The lich was struggling to comprehend all this, trying to vocalise his bewilderment but his tongue refused to obey. The voice continued.

<There are things going on here that you wouldn't believe. We're part of a bigger whole than you can ever imagine.> The voice began to crackle and fade <I can't hold this much longer, my powers aren't strong enough. At least I've got a sympathetic connection with you now. I'll try and hold things on my end, get back in touch when I can.>

"Wait!" Fedaykin finally found his voice "Who are you? What are you?"

There was a grunt as though the voice was making a supreme effort and Fed's vision began to warp again. Instead of the crawling chaos something else came into view, unsteady and flickering. It was a human youth with shocking blonde hair and dressed in a sharp tailored suit. He appeared utterly normal, save for the horns curling from his head. He smiled and shot the lich a wink.

<Nähdään myöhemmin, Fed.>

The image began to fade and Fed found control returning to his body again, the shock overwhelming as he realised the significance "Wait, no, don't leave- SPONT!!"

Suddenly reality snapped back into focus, the noise of the battle erupting around him like a thunderclap. He stared around him wildly then his stomach twisted into a knot and he doubled over, vomiting up the accursed gem that lay hissing and bubbling into a black sludge of the floor. He gasped and wheezed, looking up as he heard footsteps fast approaching. Raya and Avalanche caught up with him.

"Fed, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, don't worry." He straightened and noticed with concern the patches of blood on Raya "Raya, are what happened to you? Are you hurt?!"

"I got shot," she said matter-of-factly with a shrug. A look of distress crossed Fed's face and he made to say something when with a great roar an eruption of steam shook the cavern. They whirled to see Quaetam before the dais, arm raised, water dripping around him, facing off against several mages. The steam from their opposed attacks swirled around them. Then came burning light as the mages pooled their power, a firestorm brewing at their command, and Quaetam drew him hands back to counter. The flames blazed outwards in a javelin of light.

The three looked at each other and bolted forwards.

_________________
HG/SS Friends Code: 2364 8721 9695   B/W Friends Code: 2193 7770 9554   X/Y Friends Code:1805-2682-3033
"Foxes never lose their tricks, do they?" - Quaetman
"We'll be going about our business one day and then someone will be like "hm, where's Barda" and Raya will all suspiciously be like "WELL DON'T LOOK AT ME"..." - Rocket Admin Camilla
King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.
Raya
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Post  Quaetam on Thu Mar 29, 2012 4:55 pm

Battle had erupted throughout the cavern, guards pouring in from adjoining doors, from the central passageway. A large number of Ashvald’s Judicators staggered about, clearly intoxicated, unable to properly engage in combat, but too fearsome for any of his friends to properly approach. Several other bureaucrats and upper-level soldiers stood focused on the commotion Perry was causing behind it, screaming for guards to subdue the raging faun as he flailed about, smashing soldiers with his fists, whipping them with chains. Ashvald stood behind the demon, ceremonial knife still in hand, his face a sneer as he shouted directions. Three mages, part of the cabal that had been holding Perry in place, circled him. The others seemed to be pursuing the faun.

Advancing on the High Justice, the Hierophant cut through another trio of guards and glanced back, concerned. He had left Raya alone in that firing range, and from what he could tell she didn’t possess any proper magic to avoid getting shot. He couldn’t spot her amidst the melee, and glanced up at the altar. In Quaetam’s brief hesitation, the next four guards charged, letting out battle cries. Quaetam snapped to attention, waving his hand and expelling a blast of ice. The first two tripped, and as they fell Quaetam swiftly dispatched each of them. Not even breaking his stride, he parried the next guard’s downward hack, plunging his blade deep into the man’s innards, and pulled it out, a spray of blood accompanying the glint of steel as he swung it around and decapitated the final guard, who stood dumbfounded at the rate his friends had fallen. More pointless slaughter… he had to end this…

A crossbow bolt streaked across his peripheral vision, missing Quaetam by an inch. He shook his head, snapping back into focus; Why would the High Justice possibly station this many archers in this cavern? The collateral must be ridiculous.

Taking advantage of a momentary lull in the battle, Quaetam advanced on the altar once more, occasionally raising throwing up a wall of ice to block shots thrown his way. The guards were largely distracted, for the first time in the melee he found himself relatively ignored. Examining his goal, Q found the situation was precarious, primarily due to Shu’Sharradin-The demon had repelled one of the forumites with remarkable speed and ease. Despite its massive bulk, it possessed remarkable, even frightening, speed. It was impossible to properly gauge what other abilities he might possess. He wasn’t confident he could approach Ashvald so quickly, so easily. He’d have to find another way.

Quaetam raised his right arm and melded his mind with the mystic floes, channeling them, coalescing them. A blast of ice flew towards the demon. But his attack never made its mark: The ice vanishing in a burst of purple flame. He frowned. Was it the demon, or the mages? The cabal had turned his way, noticed his presence. They were not ordinary mages; These ones were powerful, of Ashvald’s personal guard by their robes, High Mages, given much prestige among the prestigious Leknaat Mages’ Guild. He could see them readying some sort of spells, be them protective or attacking, could …FEEL the magic they were channeling. It was an ability Quaetam had learned not many mages possessed, the sense of magic, the raw feel for its use, and the ability to detect where and how it was being channeled. And he could use it to his advantage… If he was going to overcome them, he'd have to... Quaetam himself focused his energies, preparing for a massive attack.

His concentration was broken by a crossbow bolt, which he raised an iceshield to deflect, and he barely had time to leap out of the way as the mages struck, linking their energies together for a more powerful force.

The ground shook, a blinding flash of light seared Quaetam’s vision, and the air grew hot as the space he’d been standing burst into flames. Quaetam rolled to his feet, quickly cut down a pair of guards, and again channeled his power, water rising around him, swirling about. He lashed out, a torrent blasting at the altar. The mages’ next fireball collided with his attack, erupting both into steam, obscuring the surrounding area. For a moment all was still: Nearby, the guards stood dazzled, confused. The sounds of battle still radiated from the other end of the cavern, but for an instant the immediacy was at peace: silence reigned.

Quaetam stood his ground, waited, again building up the mystic energies in his hands, preparing for the next onslaught.

Then a light shone through the fog, a searing energy rent it asunder, and a blaze of heat struck at Quaetam, its ferocity burning away the steam entirely, illuminating the surrounding area. A cloud of flames, spiraling, swirling around its centerpoint, blasted out from where the five mages stood, their hands raised, a glowing rune of light at their feet.

Nearby guards and party guests scattered. Numerous fighters turned their heads, shielded their eyes, as the heat and light of the firestorm overwhelmed them. The air sizzled hot, and time seemed to slow as the blaze built, surrounding Quaetam, swallowing him up. But he stood his ground, left arm raised forward calmly, right down at his side, sword in hand, even as the flames licked at him, as the fire surrounded him.

The Hierophant focused, reading the threads of magic behind their spell, building one of his own, and he flew his left hand outward, a faint aura against the fire.

A flash of silver radiated through the cavern, and the firestorm was gone.

His knees buckled a bit as he felt a huge drain on his energy, as he always did when using that technique, but it was nothing compared to the discord among his enemies. He could see the mages had been utterly disrupted by his counterspell; their concentration flagging, disbelief etched on their faces that the attack hadn’t worked. The rune at their feet flickered; he could feel their hold on each others’ mana was wavering, they weren’t able to maintain their circle for long. Quaetam readied himself to assault, reading their energies and shaping a spell that would exploit their weaknesses.

With a loud cry, the surrounding throng of guards charged him simultaneously, and Quaetam redirected his magic. A torrent of water erupted around him, swirling, writhing, and blasted out in all directions, knocking them back.

His way clear, Quaetam charged forward, dodging a flurry of fireballs. He slung a bolt of ice at the still distracted cabal, and it stuck into one mage’s gut. He howled with pain, fell backwards, and the circle failed, the connection between the mages broken. Two exchanged panicked looks, all four scattered, distancing from each other, and one panicked and cried out, lightning leaping from his fingers towards the Hierophant. Quaetam smiled as he gathered a sphere of water before him, allowed it to carry the current of the mage’s attack, and blasted it at his foe. The electric energy coursed through the mage’s veins, and he fell to the ground. Again purple fire erupted about the demon, preventing any bit of Quaetam’s attack from reaching it. And again he was unable to determine exactly what had caused this.

Yet undeterred, he ran up the steps to the altar, blasting away one mage’s fireball with a brief deluge, and lunged forward, plunging his sword into another’s throat before his foe could react. The remaining two High Mages backed up, towards the demon, towards Ashvald, and Quaetam, pulling his sword out of the guard’s corpse, magic gathered in his offhand, calmly advanced. He could feel a significant drain on his mana; he’d fought off many a mage in his time here, but these five were Leknaat's elite, his odds were slim, and he was losing energy fast. And that counterspell certainly hadn’t helped. He grinned slightly: at least this time he hadn’t been stabbed in the neck.

The other mages, however... They saw the Hierophant, the cloaked terror, his face alight with a grin of malice, his sword dripping with their comrade’s blood, his offhand glowing a radiant blue and silver with the power of his next strike.

“Stand and fight!” Ashvald shouted, a slight panic in his hedonistic voice, and the mages regrouped, gathering their power. Another rune formed between their feet, a lingering connection between their mana.

Q grinned. They wanted to keep fighting, then…

Quaetam attacked once more, even as he continued to stride forward. A swirling torrent of water flowed all around them. Tongues of water hardened into ice, jabbing inward, stabbing at the mages, who were forced to divert their collective energy towards deflecting them, burning them away with spurts of flame, turning them aside with icy walls of their own. And still Quaetam advanced, not allowing his opponents any room to move, their demise inevitable, their checkmate undeniable.

For a tense minute they continued this way, backing up, unable to properly gain ground amidst the swirling water, the water that stabbed at them, that prevented them from launching an assault. But then, one of the two managed to muster their focus and shoot a blaze of fire Quaetam’s way. It singed his right arm, and Quaetam cringed as he felt a spike of pain. But he reshaped the water flowing around the duel, channeled it inward, and snuffed the majority of the attack out. The water that had hit the fireball dissipated into steam, and already his opponents were attempting to counterattack; The duel changed direction slightly, the two mages throwing attack after attack and Quaetam deflecting. But he was calm, patient, anticipating their moves, analyzing their magic, and throwing up defenses in the blink of an eye. Finally their energy built, and they released one last, dangerous attack, to which he had mere moments to react.

A blaze of green light and some unknown force smashed Quaetam’s way. He raised his left hand before him, and ice grew around it, forming a shield, which he raised in defense against their strike. He dug his feet into the ground, as he was pushed backwards, and finally gritted his teeth, shoving outwards and sideways with his left arm, knocking the spell aside. The altar floor cracked against the force of the deflected spell, an explosion reverberated throughout the cavern. And Quaetam was upon them.

The two foes reacted in alarm, one reaching for a dagger at his belt, the other backing away. Quaetam lunged forward, uppercutting with his blade and severing the former’s sword arm. Ice matted the wound, and spread slightly into the man’s insides. The mage fell to the ground, and the last opponent took a look at the Hierophant. Quaetam stood before him, breathing heavy, a stab wound frozen over his shoulder, his robes singed by several flame attacks, a slight burn on his sword-arm. He was exhausted, low on mana. Against the final mage, he did not favor his odds. But he was focused, undeterred, and grinning. The final mage saw the cloaked terror before him, turned, and fled.

Quaetam let him run. He turned, searching for the High Justice, blade held steady in his hand. Ashvald stood by Shu-Sharradin, well out of Quaetam’s reach, grinning.

“Come and get me, Hiiieerophant! Or am I out of your reach once again? You cannot touch me!” the Justice sneered, and Quaetam noticed he was right. Where Ashvald stood was well within the range of the purple flames that had purged his attacks. He wasn’t sure if crossing that boundary would be fatal, nonetheless approaching close enough for the demon itself to physically strike… For a brief second both Q and Ashvald stood, looking at each other…

Quaetam gathered his remaining mana, dismayed to find he had little of it, thought of a plan, and turned to see, with a loud cry, a pair of forumites attacking the demon. One charged, his sword charged with a charging light. Charging.

The demon again struck, but he wasn’t to be deterred, fully charged and ready to charge once more. Ansem aggressed, a glowing shard alight in his hand, a savage look on his face, lunging for Shu’Sharradin, leaping forward to strike, even as his friend regrouped. The demon was focused, wholly and completely, on the two that dared aggress upon it.

This was his chance!

He turned, but Ashvald had absconded. Quaetam spotted him heading off the altar, towards the crowd Shit!. He couldn’t let him get away, and he sure as hell couldn’t let one of the other forumites catch up to him and kill him. And he had to keep his magic ready in case the demon tried something. He ran forward, too exhausted to block the crossbow bolts that crossed his vision, one nicking his shoulder and causing him a spike of pain, slowing him down for an instant…

Suddenly, Ashvald convulsed, fell to the ground, as if something invisible had slammed into the back of his head. He was out cold, ice cold. And in a flash Snake appeared behind him, fist raised. Quaetam slowed to a halt next to his friend,

“Thought you could use a hand,” Snake said, “You have no idea how bad I wanted to punch this fucker out.”

Quaetam chuckled, “At least you didn’t stab him in the throat.”

He glanced back towards where Ansem and the other forumite were chargedly charging Shu’Sharradin. While he wasn't defenseless, the duel with those mages had taken quite a toll on him, and he had no doubt he'd be useless helping against the demon like this. He pulled a flask containing blue liquid from his belt, uncorked it with his teeth, and chugged it down. Another crossbow bolt flew towards the pair, Quaetam raised his left hand casually and deflected it with a quick burst of ice.

“The fuck are you drinking at a time like this?”

“Mana potion,” Quaetam said, tossing it away, “They others are attacking the demon, and I don't know what it's capable of... After a duel like that last one I'd be foolish to help them without a quick drink, let alone continuing to fight at all.”

“We need him alive,” The Hierophant gestured towards the unconscious High Justice, “Can you restrain him, get him somewhere he won’t be in the way? I’ll deal with him later.”

“Yea,” Snake said, and flickered out of Quaetam’s vision, into thin air. A few seconds later the unconscious High Justice began unceremoniously dragging himself off the altar, bumping his head off of each stair.

Ashvald taken care of, Quaetam turned his attention to the task at hand. Ansem and the other forumite were still struggling against the demon. Shu’Sharradin was not going down easily. They’d need his help.


Last edited by Quaetam on Fri Jun 01, 2012 1:46 pm; edited 4 times in total
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Post  Fedaykin on Mon Apr 02, 2012 6:12 pm

Slowly, the dizziness faded. What had just happened? The word "space muffin" hung unspoken in the air...no, that had been something more, something more sinister than just a bad trip. The echo of the demon's voice still rang in Fed's mind, but also the memory of a blonde youngster. "Perkele...", he whispered. The implications of all he had just experienced were simply too much to grasp at this point, especially with his nose inches away from his own gorblax. And there in the middle of this bloody pulp was the gem, still calling out to the Lich, but its hold over him had been broken, the connection severed. Still suffering from the aftermath of the almost hostile takeover, Fedaykin closed his eyes for a moment, focussing on his inner sanctum. Something had changed there. There was a large tower now, covered with spikes and horns, but despite the appearance, it radiated a soothing aura. It seemed to be alive as well, slightly moving, as if it would seek something. All in all, the structure strongly resembled a creature, that had once emerged out of a certain robot's tophat.

The sound of footsteps rapidly approachin made the battered Undead snap back into reality. Raya and Avalanche, friendly faces. Real faces, showing concern.

"Fed, are you alright?", Raya exclaimed.

"Well, I just had a trip to the Twilight Zone and back, the Finnish embassy in my mind looks like some kind of hentai monster dick." Though tempted to say that, the Zombie decided, that there were more pressing issues at hand than party banter. "I'm fine, don't worry." He straightened, getting back on his feet. While doing this, he cought sight of his friend's injured shoulder. Concern and guilt swept all other emotions away. He hadn't been there. She was hurt. He had failed. "Raya, are what happened to you? Are you hurt?!"

"I got shot," as if there had been nothing to it, shrugging. The look on the Zombie's face must have been one of utter distress, but he never got to respond. The deafening hissing of vaporizing water cut the conversation short. They turned around simultaneously, observing Quaetam, as he engaged into mortal kombat with a group of mages in dapper clothing. They faced off, the mages channeling their power in unison, preparing their big bang. Their opponent on the other hand calmly awaited their move. A wall of flames rushed towards Quaetam, who just stood there, holding up his hands, engulfing him.

Then, there was light. And they saw, that it was too fucking bright.

Exchanging glances, their goal was clear. The bunch of heroes got moving, dashing towards the center of this magical mayhem.

Quaetam had somehow managed to survive the inferno. From the looks, the supposedly reformed Hierophant was holding up quite well too. Then again, their looks were shrouded by the massive amount of steam, punctually glimps of battle and then fireballs again. One of the mages' aim was a little off though. This miniature sun missed by far, gaining altitude and speed... and blasted a hole into the ceiling, destroying priceless art in the process, also causing deadly debris raining down on everything below.

The group had stopped in their tracks, observing the flight of the fireball, as it impacted right above them. Time slowed down, as their senses sharpened, as the ceiling cracked and the first bricks started falling. Like a crude barrage from ancient siege weaponry, the descent of stone began. Raya and Fed grabbed a screaming Avalanche under the shoulders, as he instinctivly raised his staff to cast Holy Shield in an attempt to protect his friends and himself. They turned on their heels, running. Debris kept falling next to them, just narrowly missing, covering them with dust, robbing their sight yet again. The champions made haste as fast as they could, finally reaching the edge, tossing Roy out of immediate danger. Exhausted and coughing, Raya stopped, catching breath.

The next moment, she had was thrown off her feet by a pouncetackling Austrian Undead, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, sending jolts of pain through her nervous system, rolling over the ground, hitting various objects left by the fleeing guests.. Seconds later a piece of stone double the size of Perry hit the spot that Raya had been occupying.

Ears ringing, Fed found himself lying next to his friend and charge. She didn't seem to be hurt, but looked a little groggy, eyes closed. Roy was not to be seen either... but what was this? There was blood on his hand. Raya's blood. Lifeforce.

Food...

The Hunger returned. The Lich knew, that he had to feed soon again, but no. Mustering all the willpower he had left, he pushed aside the urge to placate himself with the red meat, but the curiosity remained. He hadn't consumed anything from his mates, though Omicron almost had become his victim. But this is something else, just a little drop of blood, that she already had lost and for science and so on. In midst of all the chaos, all the fighting still going on around him, Fed quickly scanned the vicinity, if anybody was watching him. Didn't seem to be the case, so he quickly put a bloodied finger in his mouth and... WHAM

His head jolted straight up, as if the Zombie had taken a hook to the chin. This stuff was highly potent! Also did he feel some kind of impression..? Next to him, Raya started moving around and groaning a little.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah... sure, just tell me, did you see the license tag of that lorry? I want to sue the guy until kingdome come."

"Heh, in the end, you'll get the driver's house. Come on, let's finish this business and I'll fetch you a nice cup of tea afterwards."

"Appreciated, that's exactly what I'd need now. How'd you know?"

"Gut feeling."

Another voice joined the conversation.

"Goddamnit Feday, can't I leave you one second alone? This is neither the time to take a nap nor to chat up a woman." The Dutchie smiled, a rare sight indeed. "Come on, a few people over there and a gross demon slug thingie need their asses kicked. I am not sure, if the demon slug even has a kickable ass, but that's up to you to find out, Bernie."

The Lich frowned at this comment, but opted not to retort. Roy was ultimatly right, there was a battle to be fought. Their comrades were already charging the demon, the mages had been apparently dealt with. Once again, they tried to close the distance to the dais, the abomination in sight, as it did something, sending one of their companions sailing through the air, landing right in front of them.

It was Sahrimnir, laying flat on his belly, face planted on the ground, all six limbs spread.

"Sah! Are you alright? What just happened over there?" Raya's stance shifted slightly, concern mixing with anger. Did her eyes and fingers just twitch?

Slowly, the winged Swede got up, brushing off the dust, seemingly unharmed. He looked at Raya for a few moments, looking a little confused, before he finally responded.

"I thought, that my holy powers would harm it. So I charged my sword and charged at it, but somehow, I am here now. Maybe I didn't charge my sword enough with holiness."

"I know the feeling, Sah. My Holy Shield doesn't always do what was promised in the commercials."

"Wait a second...Holy Shield...charging...Guys, I think I've got a plan here."

The other champions turned to Fedaykin, who showed them a cheerful smile. It was so crazy, it might just actually work.
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Post  TD260 on Mon Apr 02, 2012 7:40 pm

He had taken care of the archers fairly quickly- simply running at them and slicing them open had taken care of it. He looked at their bodies. How easy it was to simply slice them open. How quick they had died. He shuddered. Hearing the clang of metal, he glanced over his shoulder, and saw a mace heading straight for his face.

The mace slowed down and TD tried to dodge under it and-


Time resumed as he hit the floor, his concentration broken. The mace swung overhead and the inertia forced the knight to stumble. Seeing his chance, TD sprung to his feet and grabbed the stranger's helm in both hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He said, then unleashed the energy stored in his fingertips. It arced across the helm, across the obscured face of the man. He twitched, shuddered, and fell. All that was left to say there had been a living man in that armor was the smell of burnt hair.

TD caught his balance, and looked up. He saw sahrimnir charging his sword to charge the demon. And then he saw the guards moving into position to take him down before he got too far. TD snuck up to intercept them, and said in an off-hand tone as they began to charge at sah

"You know, I find it funny that you're charging, because this battle is getting me amped up!"

They stopped cold in shock, and then dropped to the floor as lightning struck one, then hit the other two in quick succession.

"Hey, cool! Chain Lightning!" TD said, turning his hands over.

Chain... Chain lightning...chain... lightning...

TD looked over towards the edge of the room and saw a light chain that they had been holding one of the prisoners in. He grinned, and ran over to it. As he picked it up, he felt something cold behind him. He turned around and saw a battlemage pointing at him, a cold sort of light around his hand.

Ice mage. Gotta be an ice mage.

As he thought this, everything slowed and a storm of ice needles flew at TD.

As he threw himself away from the mage, he hefted the chain in one hand.

Gotta make this count...

Snapping his wrist like a whip, he sent the chain flying. It wrapped itself loosely around one leg of the mage. Running forward and then backward, TD managed to get the chain wrapped around the mage's legs. The entire time, the mage just gave him a cold stare.

"Running about will do nothing to disrupt my aim. You merely got lucky the first time I fired my ice storm."

TD stopped, and raised the hand holding the chain to his chin, striking a ponderous pose.
"I do wonder how powerful of a mage you can be when it is taking you quite literally a minute to charge your attack."
The mage glowered at him. "I just wanted you to take your turn. Is all. It's to make you feel as though you had a hope of defeating me."
TD smirked. "Yeah. A hope. Alright. Tell me that one again."
The mage looked at him, and said "It's to ma-"
TD whipped the chain and it exploded into light as sparks flew off of it. The mage's body jerked and twitched, then fell to the ground, limp.
TD retrieved the chain, and wrapped it around the scabbard of his sword.
"You do realize..." He said to the corpse. "That if you hadn't spent time gloating over my predicament, you would've been able to kill me? Or, y'know, step out of the chain? Geez... rule number six, bro."

His thoughts turned inward, and he addressed Aurora through the bond the two of them shared.
Hey Aurora, what's up with the slowing thing I keep doing? I thought my powers are electricity, not time.
Hm? Oh, you didn't figure it out? You actually aren't slowing down time, you're slowing down your perception of it. Your brain is using minute levels of electricity to think faster. And more electricty is being used to increase your reflexes. It's really quite simple, actually.
Ah. ...Alright then.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw a small group of his teammates gathered near the demon. They seemed to have some sort of plot brewing. TD was about to go over and join them, then realized there was another wave of guards rushing into the room. He could feel the exhaustion in his limbs- he wanted to sit down. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to find a way to stop shaking. But that was for people who had time, which is a luxury he was currently deprived of.
TD drew his sword, and positioned himself somewhere between the guards, his friends and the demon.
I hope your plan, or whatever you guys are doing, works- Meanwhile, I've got your back.
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Post  Avalanche on Wed Apr 04, 2012 8:16 am

Avalanche looked dumbfounded at Feday. Sahrimnir nodded, and Avalanche turned to Raya, hoping she'd shoot the idea down. She just
nodded. Avalanche feld slightly betrayed and grabbed his staff.
"Just try to place your shield there Av." Fed said."Make sure it is in line with--"
"I get it. I get it."
Avalanche mumbled annoyed."Just keep whatever's comming this way busy."
Raya and Feday entered the fray again while Sahrimnir and Avalanche were setting up the incredibly bad idea Feday came up with. He started to measure out the exact positioning nesecary for it to work, wishing he had a accurate measuring tool, or at least his glasses to make sure this plan would work. Sahrimnir started healing himself. It would probably be more effective if he was on full strength. Finally satisfied with the position Avalanche slammed his staff into the ground, and created his shield.
"Alright" said Sah, enthousiastically approaching the shield "Now I only have to---"
"It's not right."
Avalanche said, and the shield faded away."It won't have the right effect if it's just a shield."
Sahrimnir put his sword away again."Well do you think it'll work?"
Avalanche didn't imideatly respond."This plan is stupid.......And Fed is stupid for thinking it." he sighed helplessly."And now I'm stupid."
He smashed his staff in the ground again to summon a shield, but made it fade again almost imideatly.
"What are you even going for?" Sah asked curiously.
"What we want differs just a little from the form of my shield..." Avalanche groaned, trying to visualize it."Just make sure you're ready. We only get one shot."
Sahrimnir nodded and concentrated on his blade, which started to emit a holy light, ready for their attack.
"Just....a little fucking diffrent from my normal shield." Avalanche thought desperatly, running quickly out of mana, making yet another shield fade.
"Almost"
Yet another imperfect shield.
"Almost there."
Another one fades away.
"this one bended!"
Not good enough.
"Not complete"
Once more it fades.
"Perfect."

"SAH NOW!"


The entire hall seemed to freeze the moment Sahrimnir trusted his sword into the centre of the shield, and cried;"HOLY LAZOR!"

The ringing in his ear either indicated him leveling up or the ensueing carnage as a blinding light engulfed the hall.
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Post  Raya on Fri Apr 13, 2012 3:08 pm

With a cry Sahrimnir thrust his sword into the centre of Avalanche's shield, sending out a blaze of holy light. It bounced off the inner curvature of the shield, then again and again, each deflection increasing its power and magnitude. In a fraction of a second it had become a thunderous bolt of light, picking up enormous speed and power within the focused lens formed by the shield.

"HOLY LAZO-"

The light struck the centre of the shield and blasted outwards with a deafening roar, tearing up the ground beneath, the shockwave hurling bodies aside and sending Avalanche's feet digging into the earth from strength of the kickback. Shu'Sharradin turned at the sound and in an instant half its head was obliterated, the laser ripping through it and smashing into the wall behind, the entire chamber shaking like an earthquake with the force of the impact. The light dissipated, the colours returning to everyones' visions. Shu'Sharradin stood there, unmoving, a smoking hole where most of its head used to be. Without even a cry it buckled and collapsed to the floor with a great crash.

A whoop went up from the forumers, seeing their victory assured, whilst a cry of lament came from the remaining party guests as the source of their power lay broken and smoking on the altar.

"Ahaha, see?" cheered Fed, looking at Av who was shaking the feeling back into his arms "I told you it would work, I-"

There was a hissing noise. From the wounds and lacerations on Shu'Sharradin thick blue oil was oozing and bubbling. Everyone looked at each other in concern.

Then the demon exploded.

The essence inside the corpse erupted, a wall of temporal power smashing through the cavern with the force of a tidal wave. Reality buckled and for a brief terrible second everyone saw a blinding vision of their own dark futures.

They don't care for you. Your loyalty is weakness. Destroy it!

It's not about what is just, but what is right!

You are nothing like them, you belong with us!

No, no, I trusted you, I-ah!

This world is nothing but pain, just leave it, leave them all behind...

KILL THEM KILL THEM KILL THEM

This is your fate! You cannot escape your destiny!

Not her, not like this, oh please no, no…

Oh God what have I done, what have I done?!

DON'T LEAVE ME!!


The essence evaporated back into the aether, the visions fading and reality returning. The group unsteadily picked themselves up, staring at each other in wild horror, confirming that they hadn't been alone in seeing the veil of the future ripped asunder for a brief moment. Suddenly wild screaming erupted from the far end of the cavern as the party guests that had earlier escaped came flooding back into the hall. The members steeled themselves, expecting a new threat to sweep in to finish them off, but instead came a thunderous tread of feet as an entire unit of paladins stormed through, arresting and battering the cloaked guests with some good old fashioned police brutality. And at their heart strode a towering bear of a man, his face a furious countenance- Claudius, the Hammer of the Goddess.

Quaetam smiled and straightened, fists clenched in an effort to control the shaking hands his vision had wrought "I thought things would get a little interesting," he said loudly for the benefit of everyone, although it was clearly aimed at Ashvald "So I took the liberty of arranging for some reinforcements."

At that moment Ashvald's world came crumbling down. Absolutely everything he had was now gone- his power, his wealth, his followers, his demon- gone, all gone, destroyed in a blink of an eye. He could see the fury in Claudius' eyes, remembered the vision of his short future, and knew there was no hope. And there in front of him was that wretched, God-damned Hierophant, standing with the smug shit-eating grin of one who knows his opponent was completely and utterly defeated. This was all his fault, that snivelling little lapdog! He may have been finished but he'd be damned if he wouldn't drag that accursed vermin down with him!

Ashvald lashed out and backhanded Snake with such berserk force it took him entirely by surprise. The High Justice reached down and yanked a dagger out his boot, screaming wildly and charging at his nemesis.

Everyone stood there stunned, momentarily shocked by the suddenness of the attack. Quaetam coolly held his ground. Ashvald screeched, lunged for him, and at the final second Quaetam drew his fist back and punched him straight in the face.

The High Justice collapsed in a heap, clutching his broken nose and whining piteously, completely unused to physical violence. Quaetam shook his now sore fist with a certain degree of satisfaction, turning as his master approached.

"I see you've been busy," said Claudius in a stern voice, eyes flicking to take in the scene around them. There was nothing left of the demon save chunks of steaming flesh that were dissolving into black sludge, whilst the cultists were being rounded up and arrested, the paladins oblivious to their pleas for mercy and bribes.

"It's been an eventful evening, yes." Quaetam bobbed his head in gratitude "You have my thanks for responding to my request."

"Corruption in the city is not something I will tolerate. Accusations against a member of the Council even less so. But you have served me well, Hierophant, and I have little reason to doubt that you would summon me for reasons less than the utmost importance." He glared down at the High Justice, who was snivelling and attempting to stem the blood pouring from his nose "And it would seem that I was correct."

The other members had gathered together during this exchange, standing nearby. Perry was doing his best to appear unconcerned and brush off Avalanche, who was equally doing his best to appear completely unworried whilst checking and rechecking his friend was okay. Claudius cast a critical eye over the ragtag group.

"Who are these?"

"They're-"

"We're his friends," interrupted Raya. Quaetam started, surprised, but her expression was completely pokerface. A genuine smile of gratitude flashed to his face for a split second before he forced it away for something more appropriate.

"You keep strange company," stated Claudius, the neutral tone filling Quaetam with relief; in his strange, taciturn way, Claudius had shown him he was going to turn a blind eye just this once "My men will tear this mansion apart and find every last one of these heretics. You, Hierophant, will have a lot of explaining to do."

Quaetam dipped his head in acknowledgement and behind him Sahriminir raised his hand.

"Ah, excuse me?" All eyes turned to him "Sorry, but, maybe could we have a chance to rest? I know I'm worn out."

Avalanche snickered "You charged with your charged sword so much you're all charged out?"

"Eh?"

"That's fine. Please, feel free to use my home, you know every resource I have is at your disposal." Quaetam smiled ruefully "I may have some forms to fill out first."

_________________
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"Foxes never lose their tricks, do they?" - Quaetman
"We'll be going about our business one day and then someone will be like "hm, where's Barda" and Raya will all suspiciously be like "WELL DON'T LOOK AT ME"..." - Rocket Admin Camilla
King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.
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Post  Omicron Austin on Fri Apr 13, 2012 7:02 pm

Omicron slumped down onto his bed, nearly exhausted. After the battle, the group came back to the mansion to take a rest. He figured that by now the feel of battle would wear off, the stench of sweat, fury, and excitement, the confusion of seeing something new every time, and the chaos of having over a dozen warriors fighting for their lives on each side. It never did wear off. Maybe that was a good thing.

He rubbed his arm and cringed a little. As always, Omicron didn't make an enormous impact on the battle, dueling directly with the "lackeys" and not having the easiest time with it. He was mobile, and in the heat of battle felt his flame powers slightly enhanced for whatever reason, but overall he was a man with a bow and a good aim against men with armor and shields. Though he didn't take much damage, one of his enemies came close enough to shield bash Omicron in the arm, a move he didn't expect as everybody else always decided to try to swing their sword at him. An ally helped dispatch the foe, but after that severe bruising Omicron's aim wasn't exactly up to par, making him even more useless.

He sighed and continued to devour the chicken from the enormous platter of food lying next to him. To his pleasure, Omicron came to the conclusion some time ago that he only required two or three hours of sleep a night if he had an unlimited supply of food, although using his powers (or rather attempting) made him noticeably hungrier each time. That said, being awake for 5 hours when everyone else decides to sleep could become a bit tedious after a while.

After finishing, Omicron leaned back and closed his eyes, only to open them later within seconds. Without hesitation, he got up and began walking towards the training room he was led to the last time he was here; that enormous cavern, the glorious tiled floor, the ostentatious human-sized chess pieces, the beautiful magic lanterns lining the walls. He meant to ask Q about it, but never got around to it. Maybe there wasn't much to ask. "Hey Q, is this your training room?" "Why yes, it is." And then what? Quaetam would likely be far too busy to really explain anything or help Omicron in any way, even if he could. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Before, Omicron would consider Q a peer; now, he was clearly a superior. It felt like everyone was. Was it simply luck of the draw and he had obtained ineffective powers, or was it that he let it happen himself?

Omicron had only been down there once, but the path down to the chamber was familiar. The eerie staircase, the long corridors. He opened the large double doors and was again a little unsettled by the complete lack of creaking and groaning from their hinges. Quaetam left his residence without flaws.

Entering and hearing the pleasant sound of his own footsteps, Omicron walked into the center of the room again and looked around. He examined the statues again; laying his hand on it made him feel extremely uncomfortable, and he couldn't even begin to explain it, like some sort of aura was trying to repel him. Stepping back, he stood, took a deep breath, and lit his fingertips on fire. Okay, we can do that easily enough. I've thrown small fireballs before, but only during battle. Simulate it. He closed his eyes, took some sort of awkward stance, and imagined the black bishop in front of him coming to life and attacking him. "Hark! A fiend! Eat fireball, vile creature!" he yelled, while sending a comforting wave of heat forward, flames flickering out of his fingertips like a handheld lighter.

With another sigh, Omicron sat down and decided to try to meditate. He'd never really meditated before back in the "real world" and not once here, but what could it hurt? Maybe that's all he needed, trying to clear his mind rather than fill it, as he always did.

...

...

He couldn't do it. Meditating is impossible. "FUCK!"
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Post  Requiem on Sun Apr 15, 2012 10:52 am

"We're not killing him. If he dies, we're out of luck, the Nameless Army will come through and kill everybody, and I'm fairly certain that we'd all like to stay alive." He paused to look at the spirit in front of him [Color=Silver]"Ok, well you don't care anymore I'm sure, but the fact of the matter is, we need him, so he lives, understood?" He asked, trying to keep himself from shouting. This argument had been driving him mad, and it didn't help that while everybody else was able to sleep, Requiem was stuck listening to the undead revolutionary.

"Damn it! He's a murderer! He's responsible for the deaths of two of your friends! He's a well known traitor! He won't bring you anything but misfortune! Would you listen to me? I've been around longer than you have! I know who he is!" Damian was fuming, pacing back and forth in the room while making wild gestures with his hands "Look, he should be getting home soon, he'll be tired and worn out. Sneak out there and kill him, stash the body. Nobody would know!"

Slamming his fist down on the table, Requiem turned to the ghost "He lives. We need him. You however, I no longer require. You have shown me how to tap my Power. I can figure the rest of it out myself. Your contract is done. Now shut the hell up and cross the fuck over. You are no longer necessary."

Damian stopped dead in his tracks, stunned by what he'd just been told. "You-You're serious?" He asked, still surprised, as his body started to fade out "Wow... I don't know... What to say... Other than... Good Luck..." And with that, the spirit disappeared completely.

"So long Damian" Requiem said quietly, dropping back onto his bed. He looked down at his gauntlet, and was surprised to see that Damian's stone was still there. "Huh... Alrighty then..." He shook his head, standing up. He couldn't sleep, and he'd just banished his conversation partner to the other side. He didn't feel bad about it though, in fact, he was rather apathetic on that ground. Unfortunately, He had nothing to do now, and while he was curious about why Damian's stone was still there on the gauntlet, it wasn't really something of importance to him. He assumed it was just the essence, similar to his friends.

After standing up and stretching, Requiem made his way to the door and out, deciding to scavenge Quaetam's Mansion. After all, this was an RPG, and you never know what you'll find in a random mansion in an RPG. Even random villagers had treasure chests in their houses that they never seemed to be remotely aware of, so it wouldn't be surprising if he could find some here as well. "Here we go!" He said, mimicking the voice that mario made in the Super Mario 64 game.

He wandered back and forth examining rooms, finding the occasional chest holding some random amount of money or a healing item or accessory. Working his way down the line, he came acrossed a doorway leading down. Normally, he'd skip this one and work his way around the mansion, but he barely noticed the thing, so he figured he'd better go check it out for now. Softly he made his way down the staircase, and down a long corridor, all the while questioning the need for rediculously long Corridors. He understood that structurally they made sense, rooms overlapping and everything, but even in videogames where it was less important, they still had the 30M hallway of nothing. Still, he could see the doorway up ahead. What treasures he would find there, he wasn't entirely sure, but it was worth finding out. As he approached, he heard movement inside.

"FUCK!" A voice Requiem had heard but wasn't overly familiar with shouted.

Requiem leaned inside to see who the person was, still not really sure of their name "Having a rough time too huh?"
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Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread - Page 14 Empty Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Quaetam on Sun Apr 15, 2012 11:23 pm

The night was at its darkest, waning into the early hours of the morn, and the sky filled with the sound of the pouring rain when Quaetam finally returned to his mansion. The exhausted Hierophant nodded in appreciation as his pages attended to his entrance, opening the carriage for him as he stepped to the ground. The rain felt cool on his skin, relaxing; usually he would use his magic to keep it away from his face, but tonight he found its touch soothing as he strode up the stone path to the mansion doors. The rain seemed to bring him peace in these late hours, to wash away the stress of the past few days.

For a moment he stood outside, allowing the water to wash over him, to calm him before he at last returned to his home. This early in the morning, no servant or butler stood at the ready to admit him as he crossed the threshold, and Quaetam certainly didn’t mind. He channeled his magic briefly, cleansing himself of the rainwater so he wouldn’t make a total mess. He sighed as he looked around at the empty, darkened entrance hall, lit dimly by magical fires and perpetually burning torches. He was more tired than he’d been in weeks, really, despite the effort it had taken to retain his position in the face of Ashvald’s machinations.

He had fought, schemed, and weaved his way into power, and Ashvald had been the last obstacle to his seizing control.

And now the High Justice was gone, His Hedonism cast down and imprisoned, awaiting condemnation. Whatever Ashvald’s fate, he was no longer a threat to the Hierophant. The paperwork had been extensive, sure, but the Council had needed very little in the way of convincing. Ashvald was a demon worshipper: it was at last confirmed, not merely by the Hierophant but by a score of paladins and Claudius himself, not to mention the stream of confessions from members of Ashvald’s cult seeking forgiveness for their heresy. The gem the lich had swallowed had been quickly found by the Templars, presented as further evidence, and taken for examination by the High Priestess. And Quaetam, already more than forgiven by Claudius, had been nothing short of lauded with praise by the Emperor for exposing such corruption at the city’s heart. Archbishop Leona, one who had always been wary of (albeit not opposed to) his presence and influence had approached him personally, no suspicion in her eyes, and blessed him for his services to the Goddess.

Quaetam smiled to himself as he climbed the marble staircase. Now that power was his. He’d seen it written clearly in Claudius’ gaze when the High Templar affirmed Quaetam’s accusations of Ashvald: He viewed the Hierophant with actual respect; now that Ashvald was gone the Ruling Council respected him, they listened to him and valued his opinion as one of their own. And what was more, with Claudius under his thumb, with the others following his words intently, control of the city of Isharah, and of Leknaat, had been his in all but name from the moment he condemned Ashvald. From there, his moves were easy, straightforward, and he was in the clear.

He turned a corner upstairs, heading once more towards his chambers for some long-awaited rest. The rooms he passed by were either unoccupied or closed, darkened; his guests having largely turned in… Quaetam was sure they were all as tired as he was.

Hell, he’d been up without sleep for… two nights now, almost?

Time certainly had passed quickly. It had been only a couple days ago that he had spoken before the Council, condemning his now-companions, and ordered their deaths by Captain Ryran’s hand… It had only been just over a day since he’d stood in that garden, fighting the lot of them, intending to strike them down…

The satisfaction he felt at finally achieving his usurpation seemed to fade as everything came rushing back to him, and he held a hand up to his head as he walked on… How much had indeed happened these past two days? He had stood on the verge of total control, alone at the top of the pyramid of Leknaat power, dueling in a perpetual stalemate with Ashvald, the same High Justice he couldn’t quite overcome.

And then these Champions had shown up, caused turmoil and discord in his city, and by their presence, by their stated mission, threatened to rip the Council out of his control. Even if their cause was a familiar one, he had no option but to try to silence them, lest everything he had built up collapse around him. He tried to eradicate them, he failed, and then his entire world had changed as they attempted to return the favor.

Quaetam grimaced, a spike of pain arcing across his mind. The torrent of emotions from yesterday was dulled by his fatigue, by recent events, but again he found his feelings seeping through his façade, the images of the battle rising before him. How he’d focused, overcoming his panic as they threw several surprises at him to control the situation. How he’d tossed them around, baited them, slashed them. How Raya had leapt at him, her face contorted with fury and primal rage. How he’d struck down td and Fedaykin. How he’d killed Weldar... And then how Avalanche had screamed his Queen’s name, and everything had fallen into place, and he’d revealed himself for the fool he was.

Quaetam stopped, something snapping him out of his train of thought, perhaps for the better—There was a light on in one of the rooms. It was Raya’s light, Raya’s room. Almost unbidden, Quaetam stopped on the threshold. There was a hairbrush out on the desk, a tea set having recently been emptied as well. The curtains of the four-poster were drawn back, and there Raya lay, staring at the ceiling, quiet. Quaetam could tell she was awake, and, he guessed, possibly for similar reasons to his own. He stepped across the threshold, entering the room, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Ansem, this is NOT the fucking time,” Raya said, an unusual bitterness in her voice.

“It’s… not Ansem,“ Q said quietly, doing his best to avoid letting his emotions show in his voice. Raya turned her head, and sat up.

Their eyes met. Quaetam’s thoughts flashed back to the other times they’d locked gaze; to the battlefield that was his garden, to the moment after the feast. And now they were here. Something had changed. Back on the battlefield he had seen in her empathy, yes, he had seen confusion, but above it all was overwhelming condemnation, and one he both deserved and resented. At dinner he had seen pity, sorrow, condescension even, from the one he respected, from this person he’d known as a friend for so long. It had broken him at last, torn down his façade and shredded his resolve. It had taken the urgency of Perry’s kidnapping to snap him out of that.

And now? Now her expression was a tumult of emotion, anger directed not merely towards Quaetam but towards herself, towards the world. He could see grief; He could see a bitterness eating at her, tearing her apart from within. He could see pain, alongside her anger, deep in her gaze. Quaetam knew what it was like to hide behind a façade, and could easily recognize that here.

For a silent moment he stood there, unsure of what to say, knowing her pain, knowing that he was the source of much of it. Knowing he deserved her anger, her contempt. They’re all my friends, she had said back then, after the battle, and her message had been clear. He was not one of them; how could he be? Again he thought of Weldar, dead in Perry’s arms, of td, of Requiem, of Fed and Avalanche, all stricken down during the fighting, and for an instant a wave of renewed guilt and shame washed over him.

But then another image surfaced: Raya had covered his back, and trusted him with hers. She had faced Ashvald with him, bought him time, and now? What was it she said when Claudius asked him who they were?

We’re his friends.

Quaetam, feeling a warm sense of gratitude as her words hit him again, broke the silence.

“…Are you alright?”

“You know bloody well I’m not,” Raya said quietly, her voice quiet, cracking a bit. Quaetam stayed silent, standing in the doorway, waiting for her to continue. Raya sat on the bed, her arms around her knees, looking off to the side a bit, unwilling to meet Q’s gaze again.

“How many have you killed?” she asked quietly.

“Six hundred and thirty five,” Quaetam said, eyes closed, “And I remember each and every one of them.”

There was an awkward silence. She looked at Quaetam, and he was actually taken aback to see the shimmer of a restrained tear in her eye.

“When this quest started I knew there would be deaths. We had to lose people along the way, of course. But for some reason it really didn’t hit me until it happened, for some reason I always thought I could keep it together. At least, I kept telling myself that…” She trailed off, paused for a moment, and then continued, “The others elected me their leader, unanimously. I've been trying so hard to just keep the group together, and I’m sure you can see I'm doing such a good job at THAT.”

“You can’t blame yourself, not for this,” Quaetam responded, softly “and I think you know that. You can’t hoist the burden of their lives on your shoulders, not when you’re surrounded by war at every step. It’s not fair to you, and not to them.”

“But that’s the job I was given, Q. That’s the duty I took when I agreed to lead them. And I’ve been damn useless at it. I told them I’d see us through to the end.”

Raya was shaking, to her own surprise more than Quaetam’s, but not crying. Her resolve was formidable.

“In the past week I’ve watched three of my friends die,” she said, her gaze steely. Quaetam inwardly flinched with guilt as she continued, “I failed to protect them.”

“You can’t protect everyone. You did everything you could.”

“It doesn’t matter, it wasn’t good enough. I’m supposed to be holding them together.”

“Raya,” said Quaetam, taking a brief step forward, “they follow you because they trust you, because they’re willing to put their lives in your hands, even after some of their number have fallen. It’s clear to me even now that they respect you, they value you. I can see it in their eyes. I don’t know about you, but if they’re still willing to stand beside you the way they have, you must be doing something right.”

Raya closed her eyes, sighed, a bit exasperated, exhausted perhaps, but he could tell she appreciated his words.

“And here I am talking to you about this…”

She got up from the bed, crossing to a window herself. There was an extended silence. It was clear that Raya was opening up to him, for whatever reason, and Quaetam was grateful for the sign of friendship, of camaraderie. It was, for the time, like nothing had happened, like they were still friends who skyped occasionally, who met and schemed on the forum, played mafia and did RPs together…

“This whole thing really is fucked up,” Raya said, snapping Quaetam out of his dangerously recursive, fourth-wall-breaking line of thought, “We’re here, supposed to be some legendary heroes, and I feel like sometimes we’re caught up in the clichés so much we forget the amount of actual danger we’re in. We’re fighting a war! We’ve bloody killed people!”

Quaetam looked away, his thoughts trailing, wandering down dark alleys. He examined the ornate lamp sitting on the end table as Raya continued to look out the window into the rainstorm.

“I feel like it’s all out of my hands now,” she continued, and he could feel a waver in her voice, the tears held back behind her eyes, again noted her inner strength, “Whatever I do just isn’t good enough. People are going to die. We might ALL die, and there’s no way to escape it.”

“There’s always a way,” Quaetam said, his mind again recalling the vivid, waking nightmare Shu’Sharradin had induced. His voice grew strong, and Raya, looking over, saw something flash through his eyes, “There’s always a way. There has to be. Nothing is set in stone; the future has yet to be written. We can make it through this,”

Quaetam fell silent as he saw Raya’s expression. Sharp, her eyebrows drawn together, her mind clearly working fast as she fixed her gaze on Quaetam.

“What was it you saw, Q? What did the demon show you?”

Quaetam closed his eyes and, as he opened them, looked away for a moment, both fists clenched, expression set.

“He mocked me with a future I refuse to accept. He showed me the single thing I must avoid at all costs.”

Raya was quizzical, critical, but she decided to drop it. Quaetam considered returning the inquiry, but also thought better of it. Now was not the time.

Silence reigned once more, save for the hammering of the rain on the windows and outer walls, and once more Raya broke it.

“How did things go with the Council?” she asked.

“They went exactly as planned,” Quaetam said, his thoughts emerging from the dark places as he focused on the here, the now, “Ashvald was condemned on the spot. He’s awaiting trial now; practically everyone spoke up against him, even if he isn’t sentenced to death, his career is over. He’s disgraced, nobody’s going to listen to him,” Quaetam smiled with a touch of triumph, “and now my hold is unopposed,”

Raya looked over again from where she stood at the window. Quaetam laughed, leaning on the far wall, arms crossed, “The Emperor and Archbishop were all but raining gifts and praise down on me, I myself was slightly surprised at the extent of their gratitude. Whatever the case, the city is under my thumb now. Ashvald is to be tried tomorrow, and a new High Justice appointed.”

“Is that where you step in?” Raya asked.

Quaetam shook his head, “No. In fact, my refusal to take the position myself was the final thing they needed to trust me completely, irrevocably. I’m giving the position to Markus, my personal priest, a friend of mine here. He’ll hold it well.”

Raya was surprised at this, impressed in a way, but also skeptical, and it was this skepticism she voiced.

“And… what about you? I find it hard to believe that you’d do all this just to give power off to your best servant, Q.”

Quaetam looked at Raya, met her eyes again, “Me? I wanted to take the seat myself, for a while. I truly did. But it's better this way. I'm still in full control, not limited by the jurisdiction of the High Justice's position as I would be if I took up that offer, and refusing to step into a position of concrete power when offered the chance has proven to them my benevolence. And now... ” he smiled, “Now I'd like to leave with you.”

Raya went quiet, only partly surprised at his question. He continued,

“I’m a wealthy man, I can get us all the supplies we’ll ever need,” Quaetam said, “and I know my way around Dragnia. Working my way through the political system has taught me much. I can be a guide. And frankly, much as I usually refrain from complimenting myself, becoming Hierophant has taught me some self-respect. I know you’re going to need my help, you’re going to need my strength. I’ll leave with you all tomorrow, if you'll have me; I'll mention to the Council that I must take urgent leave for a brief period. They won't think twice, not if I play it the way I intend to. And when the time comes I will return to this position, and I'll resume control. We will have Leknaat, me at their head. I can assure you that.”

Raya contemplated. There was a lot to think about. The others… They surely wouldn’t want Q along. And even she herself knew he had more to answer for, so much more… It would take time, bring a lot of angst to the team. Perry wouldn't approve, for sure. Avalanche and Ansem can't have been very happy with him. And Camilla... Raya couldn't tell how Camilla would react to allowing her friend's killer to walk amongst them, to sleep with them, to fight with them. It wasn't going to be easy. It might not even be worth it, if it was going to tear the group apart...

But he was right. He brought with him wealth, supplies, knowledge… And, what's more, she thought back to the battle in the garden...

He brought power, sheer strength none of them could measure up to right now. They could use someone like him with them. And at the end of the day he was a friend. Well, she couldn’t be so sure about that. Her feelings on that matter were as mixed as they come. But nonetheless, they had once found him to be a friend, a person whose company they enjoyed. Having him around once this all cleared up might not be such a bad thing. And for now… Now they needed him.

“I suppose that’s fine,” Raya said, a slight smile across her visage, “I have my reservations, I’ll admit, but we really would do well to have you along.”

Quaetam nodded his thanks, as Raya began contemplating what she’d have to do to convince the others. Because god would they take some convincing… Silence reigned once more, save for the roar of the rain outside, as the present situation settled in on them again.

“What got us into this mess?,” Raya asked, looking off into space, with a hint of a bitter smile... “I mean, there we were going about our daily business and all of the sudden we’re here. Thrust from the hustle and bustle into some twisted fantasy world... I don’t know about you, but I definitely wasn’t expecting this when I got up that morning and logged onto the forums to vote for Avalanche."

"Speaking of which,” She turned to the Hierophant, grinning, ”was I right? Is he in the mafia?”

Quaetam laughed briefly, crossing his arms, “I can neither confirm nor deny,” he said with a level tone.

“Of course you can’t…” Raya chuckled.

The two laughed for a moment, and then went quiet. The humor died down, lingering. The Hierophant stood from where he leaned against the wall and moved towards the door, and Raya spoke softly,

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you tried to kill us,“ she said, with a slight laugh, but Quaetam could tell she was only partly joking.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten either,” Q responded solemnly, eyes closed.

A moment passed.

“Good night, Q,” Raya said.

“Good night.”
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Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread - Page 14 Empty Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  TD260 on Mon Apr 16, 2012 3:56 pm

TD sat, staring at the wall. His mind flashed back to what he had seen when Shu’Sharradin exploded. He looked down at his hands, and for a moment, saw them as they had been when-

no.

no, he was not going to think about that.

He was going to think about everything except that.

He was not going to dwell on the visions of the future.

...or the past.

The past...

TD looked back down at his hands. He'd been here for a short time, and yet they had grown rough with use from wielding a sword. He examined them, and thought back to his life at home. At home, he hadn't needed to lift swords. He didn't need to fight. And yet here...

Here... I fight as if it was second nature to me. Is this... me? Is this my true self? Is this who I truly am? A fighter? I used to pride myself on not wanting to engage, but here... the thought of it only crosses my mind after the fact. After I can rationalize it with thoughts of how "necessary" it is to fight. After I can defend my actions from myself.

... What's happened to me?


He looked over at Aurora, who was asleep on his bedpost, shimmering peacefully in the dim light.

Was she what I saw? Or was it something else...?

He looked back at his hands.

Before, his hands had been hands for helping others- hands for making something. These hands...

These hands are hands of destruction. And yet, they are still the same hands...

TD got up and stood at the window of his small room.

I suck at fighting. No two ways about it. The mages outclass me in magic, and i'm easily outdone by swordsmen. Or Axemen. Whatever. My Apparent Power is, as far as I can tell, fairly low.

He looked back down at his hands, and a small spark drifted across his skin.

I need to train. Maybe I won't get so damn tired. Or at least figure out a smarter way to do this, since running at people with my sword usually gets me in trouble. If this were a video game, I'd just carry a lot of healing potions. Or buy new equipment. But here... Here, some things operate like video games. NPCs, Exp points... And yet, we still have physical bodies. There's more to an ear of corn than restoring a hundred health, or more to a cookie than increasing our magic. We need to eat. So buying new armor isn't going to magically make me stronger... I've got to do that on my own.

TD looked at his equipment in the corner. He had a lance in there that he had picked up in the armory, but hadn't really used.

I never really saw myself as The Lancer of the group... but hell, if I'm going to learn how to fight, I might as well gain proficiency in two areas...

He smirked at the memory of weapon skills, drifting into his head. His smile faded, though, as he looked back down at his hands.

And again, I look immediately to the violent method. Is there no way out of this through peace?

He shook his head, and smirked.

No, of course not. Diplomacy of Zelda: Skyward Flag doesn't sound nearly as fun to play.

TD walked over to the bed and climbed beneath the rough covers, then looked over at the softly shining light on the post beside him.

Oh Aurora... What am I to do...?

He sighed, then closed his eyes.
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Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread - Page 14 Empty Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Perry on Tue Apr 17, 2012 4:49 pm

Perry sat in the garden of the Hierophant's mansion, much to the dread of the servants as they watched him carefully.
The faun seemed disheartened however. The weather was grim, a soft drizzle that'd soak the driest of coats within minutes. Perry's fur and hair was dripping as he sat on a stone bench in the mansions' large yard. His eyes were hollow and void of expression as he stared right in front of him.
What was he doing here again... The place he had just turned his back on, the people he had just abandoned... He had no place among these hypocrites and fools. For a second he frowned, and the servants who were watching from a distance immediately braced themselves. But with a sigh the faun's expression relaxed again. He had no place here, but it was the last string to his previous life he had. In his anger he had forgotten that. And after seeing Roy call out to him on that altar, he realised how idiotic it was to have just randomly left.
Memories of the night before raised in his head, his eyes closing tightly as he gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. He saw Weldar, dead in his bed. The faces of all the forumers as he confronted them with his death, and Fed's approach to keep the faun calm. The faun bend forward, putting his head in his palms as he took a deep breath and let out a long low grunt. He couldn't deal with these kind of things, he just couldn't. His fingers were grabbing on to his hair, digging into his skull as he tried to force the thoughts out but to no avail. The pain from the torture at Ashvald's place resurfaced, burning his upper body as tears rolled down his face yet the rain had drenched his face so much you couldn't tell.
He let out another howl, the sound becoming disturbed and bestial as it seemed like more than one voice produced it.

The tension in his body build up and suddenly he slammed his fist down, hitting the stone bench next to him and sending a crack across it. The servants grimaced.
He stood up, lurching forward with his humongous body, looking frightening in the grim weather. He needed to dry off, this weather was no good. He entered the mansion, taking one of the towels he was offered before he'd soak the entire house and walked in drying his head, the towel ripping on his horns. He sighed slightly as he wandered through the hallways that he tore down not a few days back. The hypocricy was sickening but he had to deal with it for now. He raised the towel over his head and walked around a corner, effectively bumping into whoever was just around it and knocking them on the floor.
Perry looked down, and was greeted by a memory... Fed against the wall, his hand holding him there..... he shook his head, ignoring it and stuck out his hand to help his friend up. "Sorry about that...", Perry muttered.

"What do you think I am, a bag of meat you can throw around?", Fed said with a laugh before he turned around and saw Perry's expression. Instantly his laugh stifled and he frowned. "You alright dude?"
Perry looked at his friend, concern and guilt written all over his face. He looked away, something strange for him as he always tried to maintain eye contact. "I guess... Could be worse off."
"Yeah, we were just in time at that party. But I gotta tell you, I wouldn't have mind if you stayed in those dungeons a bit longer.", Fed said as he nudged the faun with his elbow. Perry smiled slightly at the lich, letting out a slight "heh" before looking away again.
"Okay seriously, whats up?", Fed said, his tone alot more strict this time.

"Just... about the other day dude.", Perry said hesitantly. Fed sighed in understanding and Perry turned around to look at the Lich.
A large thud sound, and Fedaykin pulled his fist back, shaking it around. "There, we're even."
Perry looked baffled at the other side once more, but it wasn't his muscles that brought him there. He felt his face glow from the impact and he looked at Fed. Somehow the sight of the Lich almost injuring his hand on his face brought a smile on his face.
"You call that a punch?", he said mockingly.
"Shut up, we can't all have bones made out of rocks.", Fed said. "But we're cool man. Fights happen. Loads of shit happened. I'm not even sure how I'm still dealing with it all right now."
"maybe you ate a sociopaths brain?"
"Don't make me hit you again."

The two giants laughed, though Perry's size had significantly increased during their time in the game, making the difference even worse.
He looked at his friend and smiled. "Thanks man"
"No problem, dude. Come here." "Wait what? no!" "Just do it." "Fuck no, I'll break your fucking spine." "Shut up and hug it out like men."

The lich practically forced himself inside the faun's arms and gave him a hug, as awkwardly as Perry made it. He sighed and hugged back.
"This is so gay." "sh sh sh, just let it happen", Fed responded and held on. Suddenly the Lich's stomach made a rumbling noise, and Perry jumped back, shoving the undead off. Fed laughed and rubbed his stomach.
"Not cool, man."

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Post  Fedaykin on Wed Apr 18, 2012 5:31 pm

Fed chuckled again. "Don't worry, your way too hairy anyway. You have more wool on you than a horde of sheep." "Really now, that's the level we are going to play on, Mr. I-dunno-what-a-shower is?" Perry's smile grew, as Fed threw his arms up in the air in a dramatic surrender gesture. "Alright, alright, I give up, my ass was whooped in this battle of the wits, I salute you, Sir. And you're right, should probably do something about this grumbling stomach. Gotta be careful, I am a heartbroken man after all." The faun rolled his eyes at that comment, but the Lich continued before he could retort.

"Wanna tag along for a bit?"

"Hmmm....naaaaah, think I'll pass for now. Need some time to get my head straight, y'know."

"Yeah totally understandable. Guess I'll see you later then."

"Yeah, probably. Later, dude."

"See you then... oh, and Perry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Good to have you back, dude."

Fed gave him the warmest smile he could muster, waved shortly and continued his way.

As soon as the Zombie left his comrade behind, the dark thoughts returned to his mind. The demon's vision still haunted him. Was the path of time predetermined? Did this terrible event really need to take place? Did he even have a choice and free will in this? Did any of his actions matter? Fedaykin's thoughts wandered off to the Dune books by Frank Herbert, the novels he had took his online handle from. The tragic figure of Paul Atreides: a genetically engineered super-human, the pinnacle of the human race, trapped by his own visions of the future. Could something similar happen to Fed? Only time would tell, sooner or later. The Dead Man Walking let out a short, harsh laugh at the irony.

The death of Weldar was still another thing. He had been one of his best friends after all. It had all started with a little backstab in a Mafia game, then some talking via Steam and somehow, it had fostered. The countless hours they had spent talking and gaming, their friendship had been never broken by strife or timezones. The cruel irony, that another very good friend had ultimately cut their bond in the literal sense was still unbarable. The only good thing this day had brought, was the epiphany of the late Spontaneous Combustion. His manifestation in his mind had ignited a spark of hope in a dark void of fear and dispair. Somehow, he was still out there. Somewhere, on a different plane of existance, the Finnish youth was still fighting for their cause. And if he managed it, why shouldn't his other fallen friends and comrades? Maybe death was not the end? Deep down, burried in a pit, locked with seven seals in his mind, lingered Fedaykin's biggest fear: the fear of true death, ceasing to exist...it doesn't need to end here.

This realisation provided a little comfort, a little peace of mind. By far not enough to feel good, but it was a start. Another thought occured to Fed. it would be really selfish of him to keep this knowledge all to himself. There was especially one person, who beat themselves up with it, but would never admit it in public. Another smile crossed his face, as he climbed up the stairs to the bed rooms. Silently, he made his way to his own room, fetching a sheet of paper and tipped a quill into the ink, all provided by their gracious host. It was already too late to seek a personal confrontation at this hour, also leaving some privacy couldn't hurt. Fed would be around, if the need for conversation should arise.

The Lich considered his words carefully, not leaving out a single detail on his metaphysical experience. He had to put down the quill twice, as his hands started shaking, when he realised, how close he had been to certain doom, if Spont hadn't intervened. The Perkele Tower still stood as a testimony to this event in his inner sphere, by now accepted by the guardian wraiths. Half a candle later, Fed was finally content with his letter. He nimbly folded it, sealing it with some wax and the hilt of his dagger, he left his bed chamber and walked silently to the other end of the hallway. At his destination, there was still activity behind the door. The sound of two damped voices talking, steps on the ground... For a brief moment, Fedaykin considered knocking on the door, but quickly dropped the idea again. The letter was enough, he decided, kneeling down and pushing it through the door frame to the other side. Perfect. Here's the mail, it never fails.

The thunderstorm had finally subsided, so Fed decided to take a stroll through the Hierophant's gardens. Dawn was still a fair bit away and the Lich didn't feel like reading in Nyall's journals. A night off couldn't hurt, every now and then. Wandering around, he admired the beauty of the exotic plants, ranging from something resembeling a cross between roses and sunflowers, emitting a pleasant smell to various bushes. Solanceous herbs bathed in the moonlight, while a myriad of buzzing insects, orange dots darting through the moist air, fought for their nightly survival. Shattered statues littered the area though, a sign of the goatman's violent outbreak. Servants had been busy removing the rubble, but hadn't been able to complete the task yet. Strangely enough, some of those broken pieces of stone added more to the serenity of the moment than disturbed it, as unfamiliar stars shone their light on them.

In the center of the garden, their former battlefield, Fedaykin came to a halt. Slowly, he turned in a circle, drinking every detail with his glowing gaze. The hostility, that this place had emitted at their first visit, had been replaced by a strange sense of accomplishement. They had paid a high toll in blood, but also had scored a major victory. It remained to be seen, if it had been a pyrrhic one.

As he stood there, gazing into the night's sky, his thoughts once again wandered off to another place in his memory, a happy one. He remembered standing there around a campfire with his Slovak friends, pointing at the zodiac signs with this laser he had bought. In the distance, there had been laughter, merriment, happiness...all accompanied by the ever present sound of Capoeira music. At this moment, a shooting star raced through Fed's vision, snapping him back into what he assumed was reality. His eyes followed the star's path, as it vanished directly over a a tree, a couple of dozens meters away. No doubt, this was an exotic one, not native to any Northern nation. He had seen something similar before, like some tree from Brazil... and then it hit him. Suddenly, it made sense. The Capoeirista in him understood the sign. He quickly crossed the distance, looking up to the crown. One branch was coated in starlight. As far as the Undead could tell, it had the perfect size and shape.

A few minutes later, Fed stood there, holding the branch in one hand, one of his daggers in the other. The light had faded as soon as the branch had hit the ground. Then, Fedaykin looked at his weapon in his hand, turning it around, inspecting it.

"Finally, you are used as a tool of creation, not destruction."

As he started his endeavour, the Hunger fell silent.
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Post  Raya on Thu Apr 19, 2012 1:49 pm

Ansem paced about his room, restless. Though it was the early hours of the morning he just couldn't sleep. Part of it was due to the excitement of the night, the thrill of combat and the ecstatic rush of power that came with tearing souls, but another part was something gnawing inside him. Something Raya had said to him earlier. He'd tried to dismiss it but the thought niggled inside his head and, he had to admit, made him feel pretty bad. He berated himself, tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away. Cursing, he realised what he'd have to do. He left his room and went in search of hers.

As he turned into the corridor he could have sworn he heard the footsteps of someone else leaving in the opposite direction. No matter. He found her door and poked his head around it. Raya had her back to the door, brushing her hair to get ready for bed. It occurred to him that he'd never seen her with her hair down before and the difference it made was startling. He realised he was staring, shook his head and took a step inside.

"Hmm? Forget something Q?" Raya looked round and frowned "Oh, it's you."

"You been entertaining men in your room dear?" he asked wryly, closing the door behind him. She smirked back.

"You know I'm always on hand for things like that." Ansem stood to the side, glancing out the window at the rain pittering against the glass. There was an awkward moment of silence save for the tapping rain before Raya broke it "You here for a reason?"

"Ah, yes." For a second Ansem looked genuinely nervous, something that was completely at odds with his usual cocksure character "I came to apologise."

"Apologise?"

"For earlier. Back in the bar. You were right, I'm always just thinking of myself."

"Oh come on-"

"You know me girl, I'm a hedonist, I take what fun where I can and fuck everything else. But, y'know, you're right, we're in this together. I need to be less of an asshole." He shrugged "Sorry."

Raya looked genuinely touched by his confession "Thanks, Ansem, that means a hell of a lot. Besides, I think I owe you a bit of an apology as well."

"For what?"

"For giving you such a clip round the ear."

"Hey, I like it when a girl gets rough."

Raya chuckled and turned to pour another cup of tea. She hesitated for a moment, then spoke "Ansem..." she began carefully "When you're fighting in battle...what does it feel like?"

"Eh? Exhilarating I guess. Knowing it's a fight to the death, satisfaction of outwitting your enemy and ripping out his soul. Makes you feel alive."

"And you're in full control when you're doing that?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Forget I asked." She collected her teacup and saucer and sat down, sipping at the steaming liquid "It's been a long day."

"More parties should end with shooting a demon with lasers." He frowned "Perhaps not with the weird shit at the end."

"Was your vision bad?"

"Nahh. Had naked chicks in it and everything." Despite the bravado in his voice there was a faint waiver in the tone and she knew he wasn't telling the full story "What about you? What did you see?"

"Terrible things," she said in a quiet voice. There was another stretch of silence, broken only by the rain outside.

"So," said Ansem at length "What are we doing now?"

"Getting some sleep and then getting the hell out of this bloody city."

"Sounds like a plan," he grinned "What's the deal with Q?"

"He's coming with," she saw his eyebrows raise in surprise "That's something to explain in the morning."

"That's going to be fun breaking it to the others."

"Tell me about it." Raya put her cup aside, sighed and stretched. Ansem made to reply when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and to his surprise saw a piece of folded paper had been pushed under the door. He went over and picked it up.

"What is it?"

"A note." He handed it over. Raya opened the note, read it and a smile crossed her face.

"What's it say?"

"Raya, I like you, do you like me? Check box Yes [ ] No [ ]."

"The fuck?!"

"I'm joking you idiot," Raya grinned and closed the note again "Something good for a change. Now, my dear Ansem, I'm afraid I have one more thing to ask of you."

"Which is?"

"Kindly fuck off and let me get some sleep."

Ansem laughed "As you wish."

_________________
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King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.
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Post  Omicron Austin on Fri Apr 20, 2012 3:28 pm

"Having a rough time too huh?"

Omicron heard a voice and wheeled around. "Woah, what are you doing here?" His acquaintance let out a laugh. "Just decided to drop by."

"Requiem, right? I'm Omicron." He reached out his hand to give Requiem a formal greeting, who spoke in turn, "So, what's going on down here?", while absorbing his strange new surroundings.

Omicron sighed. "Not a whole lot. Trying to try to figure out my powers, I guess." Requiem paused and thought for a moment. "...what would those powers be, exactly?"

"Oh. Well, barring my apparent talent for archery, I have flame powers, but I can't really do anything with it when I want."

"Sounds like...fun?" He then decided to swipe his hand over his peculiar gauntlet as it proceeded to change shape and shoot out a fireball, blasting onto one of the nearby giant chess pieces and fizzing out of existence, although doing this caused him to cringe and grow a little pale.

Omicron lifted his eyebrow, only slightly surprised; expect the unexpected, they say. "I see I'm not the only one."

Requiem continued changing the shape of his gauntlet, apparently creating illusions of himself temporarily.

"So...what exactly is your power, then? Or is it just a magic gauntlet that you have?"

"I'm...eh..." He hesitated in discomfort for a moment. "These are our allies powers..."

"Wait...you mean...was that TJ's power earlier?"

"Er... Yeah, pretty much. It's not only the forumers though, I mean, I can use a sword fairly well now, and an axe somewhat decently. I think it's mostly to do with taking the experience of the soldiers I kill. I'm not sure why our allies' essence still show up though." Realizing he was rambling, Requiem stops talking.

"Well, you seem to know what's up with your abilites then, I suppose. I haven't been so fortunate." Omicron replied, a little saddened.

"I wouldn't say that I have it figured out really, a lot of things have been explained to me by... Well, it doesn't matter anymore I guess. Either way, I've still got a fair amount left to learn, and using these... Powers of mine, they take a toll on me."

"Do you want to learn how to use them more efficiently, then? I noticed that just making that fireball alone you seemed a little bit worn out, pale even."

"Learn to use it more efficiently?" he asked, curiously. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"You know, use the same amount of power, but with less negative effect. You said it took a toll on you, isn't that a bad thing?"

"Well, I was more asking along the lines of like... How, but if you think you know a way to help, sure, and I'll see if I can't teach you how to meditate properly"

Shrugging, Omicron replied, "Honestly, I couldn't have the slightest clue how to help you when I can hardly help myself, but I was wondering if meditating could make a difference, so there's a place to start, I guess."

Requiem proceeded to take a seat. "In that case, I suppose we should train together. Maybe we can learn something," he said, and closed his eyes.

"Yes, let's" Omicron replied, as he awkwardly tried to copy what Requiem was doing to meditate.
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Post  Sahrimnir on Fri Apr 20, 2012 7:45 pm

All the different thoughts going through Sahrimnir’s head were making sleep extremely difficult for him.

How can we trust Quaetam? He’s a murderer!

It’s not like we’re much better.


An image of a guard flashed through Sahrimnir’s mind. He could hear the guard gurgling as a sword was pulled out of the guard’s throat. That was followed by Sah’s own voice saying “Don’t bother me while I’m having an inner dialogue.”

That was awesome! We really nailed that line.

Awesome? We killed a man without even flinching! What has happened to us?

We did what we had to do.

You’re starting to sound like Q.

I do not! That bastard killed TJ and Weldar!

Well, he’s not trying to kill us anymore. That’s a good thing.

Are you really sure he won’t try to kill us?

You’re right. Let’s stay alert.

Would you two stop that?

Speaking of Q, I wonder… What is going through his mind right now?

Why don’t we go and find out?


Sahrimnir arose from his bed and went looking for Q’s room (though he didn’t really have any idea where it was located). After walking around aimlessly for a while, luck would have it that he saw Q entering a door. Sahrimnir walked up to the door and knocked. He didn’t really wait for an answer before he opened the door and entered the room. Q looked at him for a short while before he spoke.

"Hey Q, I was wondering... If we hadn't all known each other before we wound up here, what do you think would have happened?"

"I've tried my hardest to avoid thinking about it", Quaetam responded with a clearly troubled expression.

Well, that’s understandable.

There was a long silence before Sahrimnir continued.

"When I killed that man in Ashvald's mansion... When I killed those soldiers you sent after us, was I justified?"

"You did what you had to. Killing is never a good thing, but sometimes it just can't be avoided. Sometimes it's inescapable."

Is it really? Is there really no other way?

Of course there isn’t! The wicked have to be punished!

If it is to ensure our survival, we might have to kill again and we shouldn’t hesitate to do so.


There was another silence before Q continued.

"It's a terrible thing to take a life, to rip someone from their home, their family. It's a burden that cannot be set down, an overwhelming guilt that can swallow you, devour you."

Well, we shouldn’t let that happen. Our psychological health is important too.

But how can we just keep going?

What I’m wondering is: How can Q?


Sahrimnir looked up and asked "You've killed dozens, maybe hundreds. How do you live with it?"

Q paused, closed his eyes and cringed, before he answered "Not a day goes by when I forget about what I've done. I try to overcome my guilt, I focus on the task ahead, on my belief in a better world, on the land that needs saving. I --"

"Why didn't you cooperate with us from the get-go? We've got the same goal?"

Another cringe before Q continued.

"I said this to Perry the other day over dinner; I really don't have an easy answer for that. I was blinded by my efforts, by my goal. Cooperating with you would have risked everything I'd tried to accomplish over the past month. To align myself with the ones the Council deemed heathens, with heretics, would have damned my efforts."

Suddenly Sahrimnir’s demeanor changed and he angrily shouted "You killed TJ and Weldar!"

That was a little harsh, don’t you think?

No, I don’t think so. That’s the truth.

It being true doesn’t mean that it wasn’t harsh.


"Sorry”, Sahrimnir said after a short pause. “That was out of line."

Q sighed and responded "No... I deserve it."

"It's just... I've always dreamed of being a hero, but I never wanted to kill anyone. I guess I might be taking some of this out on you."

Q smiled slightly.

"It's okay, like I said, I deserve it."

"Well we've both done bad things... I just want you to know that I don't judge you... Well, I try not to at least."

Q closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you."

After yet another silence, Sah realized he didn’t really have anything else to say. He walked to the door and said “Good night, Q.”

“G’night.”

After that, Sahrimnir went back to his room and resumed his unsuccessful attempts at sleeping.
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Post  Quaetam on Sun Apr 22, 2012 12:48 pm

The door closed behind the winged forumite and all was still, all was silent save the pounding of the rain on the glass. Quaetam mechanically activated the trigger-toggle once more, safeguarding the room, and looked around. The space was dimly lit, the backlit water channels granting the Hierophant’s bedchambers a soft radiance. The four-poster was neatly set, having been pre-arranged by servants earlier in the day. It was the room that had been his dwelling for several weeks now. And, with his former life flashing before his eyes, the life he’d held back at home, at RPI, and on the forum, it all felt so surreal.

Quaetam sat on the edge of his fourposter and flicked on the lamp. There on the bedside table sat three relics, three tokens he always carried with him: A pair of obsidian dice and a green, crystalline chess king. Quaetam picked up the former, rolling them around in his hand, and let them fall onto the table.

Snake-eyes.

It was always snake-eyes.

He’d never considered himself a lucky man, not in the slightest, and that seemed compounded here, in Dragnia. The past three months were like a dream; no, like a nightmare, like some convoluted stupor from which he couldn’t wake: he had been torn from his world, from that life, and abandoned here. He had tried to find a way back, tried to escape the brutal, violent, lonely path demanded of him. And he’d found a mentor in that man, in Azerin. He’d found friends there in Mousillon, he had become someone, had started to piece a life together, to find a way to escape this world, even. Then the Army came, and even that hope for escape, for salvation, that hope of controlling his own destiny was lost. That life he had built was torn apart. His luck had failed him, again and again.

The rain continued to pour, unending, drowning out his thoughts. He picked up the crystal king, turning it over in his hand. The light from the lamp caught on the king and reflected off every which way, glistening brilliantly in the darkness. His luck had failed him, so he had chosen a new path. He had cast fortune aside. He had eliminated chance, he’d gone and cursed his fate, gone and played the world like both sides of a chess match, built up one side only to bring it down and, through his ploys, his schemes, seize the lofty position he now held. And it had worked. Here he stood atop Leknaat, poised to champion the coming of the dawn, to help rid the world of the Nameless Army that had destroyed his hope of freedom, of escape.

But he had been an idiot, the entire time. He’d lost sight of himself in his desperation to escape the fate that Wyndia had demanded of him. Since when was he the kind of guy to back down from this, to flee from a people who needed saving when he was the only one who could save them? His powers had come to him extraordinarily fast; he’d begun to set into his own before he even reached the capitol and was brought before the Wyndian Council. He knew he wasn’t helpless, he knew he was of value here. So why had he run?

Somewhere inside, a voice cried out in protest: His luck was his bane; he had been alone, taken from a moment of happiness, when things in his life had finally felt RIGHT, and thrust into Dragnia, where all his accomplishments, all his resolve, his drive, was made pointless. And he was alone, without friends. Of course he would want to go back, of course he’d be in pain, irrational…

Quaetam shook his head, standing up, moving over to a window, gazing out into the darkness, the soft patter of the rain a soothing sound against which his thoughts resonated in his head. He knew better, of course he knew better. How could he have ever escaped the guilt of leaving these people to die? He remembered thinking, for at least a while, he remembered rationalizing to himself that this was clearly a game world. But the people here felt real, they smelled real, they looked real. When he channeled magic he wasn’t just casting spells, he was reaching into some deep power. Sure, it was an ability not many mages held, so perhaps for others it was different-but he knew it was real, it was tangible, it was something he could feel, he could shape, he could coalesce… How could he know if this was reality or an illusion? And if he made it home, how could he live knowing he’d abandoned the people of this world?

He watched, mesmerized, lost in thought as a little rivulet of water snaked down the window pane, catching on other droplets until it finally pooled on the bottom, where it was joined by countless others, smothered by the continual pounding of rainfall on the glass.

He wanted to get home, yes, but ever since Mousillon he’d known that he had to do something, that this world needed saving after all. And ever since Mousillon he’d tried to avoid thinking about what he’d done, he’d tried to avoid focusing on the terrible fate he’d given those guards, setting their souls forever adrift in the uncertain void, alive but lost forever, in a sort of eternal, torturous hell. He’d tried to avoid thinking of what a fool he’d been to refuse to help the Wyndians, to spurn those who asked for nothing but his aid. And he’d been able to put it out of his mind, to instead focus on the path that lay ahead, to work towards the station he now held: Full control of the holy city Isharah, and with it the nation of Leknaat.

Quaetam turned away from the window and walked back over to the four-poster, lying down, pulling the warm blanket over himself, and drawing the curtain shut. There he lay, one arm folded behind his head, the other across his chest, as he stared at the dark ceiling, lost in thought.

He’d set his sights on the metaphorical “usurpation of heaven”, focused on his own plan to unify the lands under his banner and take a stand against the Army, and done all he could to put the past behind him to avoid succumbing to the guilt of the innocents he had killed, ironic as that may be, to avoid succumbing to the guilt of abandoning those who needed him. Perhaps part of him wanted to make it up to them someday, somehow, but…

But it had caught up to him. The people who had once been his friends were here now, and he’d fought them, he’d tried to kill them.

He felt a strange mix of emotions… The past couple days had really taken a toll, it seemed. He didn’t even know how he’d be able to process the situation as it stood. His world had turned inside out. And yet, somehow, it had all worked out for the better. He had succeeded. An obstacle that, mere days ago, was stalwart and almost impossible to reach, had been overcome. Ashvald was gone. Leknaat was his, totally and fully. There was nothing in his way. And he was no longer alone…

But Weldar was dead. Quaetam clenched a fist. His goal was accomplished, but had it really worked out for the best? Weldar was gone. He would never see his friend again. He would never speak to him, never stay up late at night to skypecall the guy, to laugh over mafia, to scheme, to share stories of the lives that they’d each once found so tangible, the lives that had been now ripped away from them. The first and last time he’d met his Australian friend in person had been there, on that battlefield, in that garden, and he had ended his life. He had speared him through the chest, had seen the life fade from him, the light leave his eyes. He had killed him.

And now Weldar was gone, gone forever. They would never talk again, they would never speak again. And it was his fault, his own fucking fault…

Quaetam held a shaking hand up to his face, and it came away wet. He was crying. Not an uncontrollable explosion of emotion like the one he’d had half a day ago, no, but the tears did flow nonetheless. His iron wall had been torn down, it seemed, and there would be no true rebuilding it, not now. But maybe that was for the best. Mourn the dead to celebrate the living, and, in his case, mourn the dead so as to never forget your mistakes.

Quaetam closed his eyes, and the tears flowed. For even if life was to be celebrated, even if he was to learn from his mistake, that did not change the permanence of his error. Death was irrevocable. And his friend was gone, for good. He might seize the metaphorical throne of heaven, he would certainly control Leknaat, and he could definitely help save this world, but he would never see Weldar again.


Last edited by Quaetam on Wed Jun 05, 2013 11:56 am; edited 1 time in total
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Post  Raya on Sun Apr 22, 2012 2:28 pm

During the night the rain had ceased, and by the time the dawn had broken the clouds had scattered, allowing the sun to shine through. The city shimmered, clean after the rain, as though having cleansed itself of the corruption that had rotted within its heart.
 
As predicted, announcing over breakfast that Quaetam was coming along did not go down well. Although the logic was persuasive- he would indeed be a boon to the party and a big help on their journey- there was still the terrible elephant in the room, that he had murdered two of their number. Justified, misguided, unforgivable or not. But the matter was set and he was going to accompany them.
 
Upon leaving the mansion they found that Quaetam had made preparations. Horses, complete with provisions and supplies, everything they'd need for their journey ("How did you fit 99 panacea in a bag?" "Don't ask."). Fedaykin had from somewhere acquired a half-carved stick, refusing to answer any questions about it with an enigmatic smile. They saddled up and in the brisk morning air were soon on their way.
 
The strange entourage garnered a lot of attention; attention quickly averted as the peasants spotted the Hierophant amongst them. They passed through the great entrance gates and pressed on southwards, not caring of the direction as long as they left the city and its dark memories behind. With Quaetam in their midst no patrolman or toll collector dared to challenge them and they quickly made good time. It had turned into a pleasant summer's day, with birds wheeling overhead and the wind bringing the sweet scent of flowers through the waving grasses. Whatever their misgivings everyone soon found their moods lightened by the atmosphere around them.
 
Eventually they called a halt for lunch and made themselves comfy by the side of the road. Now free from the confines of the city the obvious question was brought up. What now?
 
The world map was unfurled in their centre and Raya studied it with a frown "Well, Leknaat is...kinda on our side now. That still leaves us with a fair few left to still unite. Out of the three closest to us-"
 
"If I may make a suggestion?" interjected Quaetam. He tapped his finger on the lower portion of the map "Mousillon."
 
"Isn't that the cursed province?" asked Avalanche, remembering back to how Larissa had described it.
 
"An unfortunate reputation, yes." Quaetam smiled thinly "It's certainly not a province blessed. It's a land of dark crags, deep swamps and untamed forests, in which dwell all manner of horrors: wolves the size of horses, were-creatures of every ilk, bats large enough to drain a man dry in minutes, and the dead certainly do not sleep easy in their graves." Fedaykin's ears pricked up and Quaetam continued "But the people there are honest, brave folk who love their homeland, even if they do have to bar their doors at night and wedge bricks in their relatives' jaws before they bury them. Really, most of this bad reputation is down to superstition. All the other nations frown upon the use of dark magic in all its forms; in Leknaat and Sylvania it's seen as such dire heresy practitioners are put to death. But Mousillon's ruling family, the von Carsteins, openly tolerate the use of dark magicks, provided it doesn't hurt the populace. Needless to say, this hasn't made them very popular amongst their peers."
 
"But didn't Larissa say that the Army had conquered Mousillon?" asked TD.
 
"Yes, they have. More than likely it's become one of their bases of power in the Northlands. But it's not completely subjugated, just broken without their leaders. The von Carsteins have ruled for centuries, and although laissez-faire they are fiercely protective of their people. If we can regain the royal family we could easily begin an uprising in the province. Even if it doesn't throw off the yoke of the Army it will certainly make life difficult for them."
 
"What do you mean 'regain'?" queried Sah "That doesn't sound good at all..."
 
"It could be a lot worse. When the Army attacked Mousillon it was a blitzkrieg. There was no chance of a coherent defence. The royal family barely escaped with their lives. With nowhere else to go they came to Leknaat to beseech the help of the Council; even if the two nations didn't get on, surely they could see the danger that was sweeping up towards them. Well, you saw how well it went when you asked for help. If it wouldn't have caused a major diplomatic incident Claudius would have slew them on the spot. They escaped the city under cover of night and haven't been seen since."
 
"Then they could be anywhere!"
 
"Not necessarily. I can make an educated guess."
 
"Mafia-style!"
 
"Yes Snake, mafia-style. Now," he pointed to the map "They couldn't have returned home, nor could they have gone to Sylvania; they wouldn't have got one step past the border without being riddled with elven arrows. Canis wouldn't get involved unless there was a tangible benefit in it for them. Give a dog a bone and all that. So, I think," he placed his finger on the island in the middle of the large central lake "They went here."
 
"An island?" asked Omicron, a hint of trepidation in his voice at the prospect of taking a voyage.
 
"Yes. It's known as the Isle of Bones."
 
"Sounds wonderfully cliché," observed Perry dryly.
 
"Millennia ago it was a dragon's graveyard," continued Quaetam "Though the dragons themselves have long since vanished their remains are still there, as are the enchantments they wove to protect them. It's said to be an ill-omened place, shrouded in the direst fog and darkness, and those that seek it out never return."
 
"And you want us to go there?"
 
"It's all superstition, I assure you."
 
"You'll have to forgive us for assuming you're a backstabbing bastard. But if this place is as dangerous as you say, why would the von Carsteins go there?"
 
"The Isle is an incredible focus of dark and necromantic power. The von Carsteins practice both and they want their province back. I imagine they went there to gain enough power to seize control back."
 
"Putting two and two together here," mused TD "If they practice necromancy, and they’re in a magical nexus that doubles as a graveyard, why do we need to find them? Surely they’ll be able to take back their province by themselves?"
 
"TD, have you seen or heard anything about a horde of undead dragons rampaging across the land?"
 
"No…"
 
"Then something has gone wrong. If they reached the Isle, for some reason they haven’t come back."
 
There was a thoughtful silence. "In any case, think about it," continued Quaetam "We'll be sleeping out in the open tonight, but tomorrow we'll reach a small town, Engeve. I can put in a word with my contacts. Also, if my memory serves me correctly, we may arrive in time for a certain something." He smiled, much to everyone's puzzlement.
 
The lunch passed in discussion before camp was broken and they were off again.

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King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.
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Post  Perry on Mon Apr 23, 2012 3:28 pm

After QUITE the awkward moment in a hall way, Perry had proficiently calmed down to feel the hurt on his body. Turns out being tortured and dragged around, getting into a fight and have demons desiring your flesh and blood wasn't the healthiest thing in the world.
Without much time for second thought, as soon as he found himself in a comfortable enough spot, the faun went in to a deep sleep.
The rest of the night was pretty uneventful, or atleast it felt like it as Perry didn't remember if he dreamt or not that night. It could be true that he had grown slightly once more, but it was almost unnoticeable compared to the last time he went to sleep.
Alas, at least it was a new day.

At breakfast, he mostly remained quiet. It was pretty much like his dinners at home with family. Just zoning out and not listening because if he did, he'd either just get annoyed or find out it wasn't attended towards him anyway. He just stocked up on food, eating most likely double if not triple the amount of the other forumers. As expected, Q was joining the group, and Perry could hardly muster up the strength to rage about that again. His disapproval was clear enough already.
"Let's just get out of this shit-hole, okay?", he mumbled before he left the breakfast table. The only thing he needed to pack were his axes, that they had luckily recovered from Ashvald's mansion. He owed a great debt to these weapons, after they saved his life so many times.
He strapped them on and waited outside for the rest of the party.



And after an hour or so, there it was. The confinement of Leknaat behind him, and on the road again. Perry couldn't help but find his mood being lifted as they traveled forwards. Though did they even know where they were going?
Apparently not, as after hours of riding, they made a halt to discuss. The faun himself was severely disinterested, but kept an ear open as he tended to the horse that had carried his weight all this time. The poor bugger. He gave the horse a pet on the head, smirking at the thought that he might just be better off sticking to the open lands... Though that reminded him....
He looked over his shoulder at the group, as they sat discussion frantically. Looking at them from a distance like this reminded him of that vision in his head... The warm and compassionate feeling almost arising again, in contrast to the seclusion he felt himself take from them now... he frowned slightly, not sure what to think.
He wandered over to the group, thinking why not while he still could, and wandered in to the conversation.
"Isle of bones", was the first he picked up.

"Well that sounds wonderfully cliché", he commented dryly, to aware the others of his presence. It seems they were talking about going to the province south of where they were. Of course, Q was doing most of the talking, he stated to himself with a sigh.
The place he spoke of was full of darkness and bad omen, yet apparently the only place they could go.
"And you just expect us to waltz in some kind of cursed graveyard and be like "sup?"?"
"It's all superstition, I assure you."
, Q responded though once he saw the look on Perry's face, he probably realised that it was a bad choice of words.
"You'll have to forgive me for assuming you're a backstabbing bastard. But if this place is as dangerous as you say, why would the von Carsteins go there?", the faun snarled, especially at the first part.

Q paused for a second, but continued, most likely putting the remark aside for now. And with that, Perry lost interest as well. He sighed and crouched down, resting his face in his palm with his elbow on his knee.
If the von something somethings haven't returned, and so has anybody else ever going there, and they weren't even sure the guys were there... Why the actual fuck would they need to go there. The whole plan just seemed idiotic, but secretly Perry found himself interested in these dragon skeletons...

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Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread - Page 14 Empty Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  TD260 on Mon Apr 23, 2012 8:42 pm

I hate horses.

TD knew that he should be concerning himself with something important. The fate of the world, perhaps. Or whether Quaetam was trustworthy or not. Or what to do about his lacking combat skills. But no, his only thoughts were centered around the fact that he bloody HATED horses. He hated the fact that there was no right way to sit in them without getting saddlesore. He hated the fact that since they were alive, they had to randomly stop and find something to bother themselves with while everyone else just kept riding past. And he hated how the stupid things would weave and meander about, without a care for order at all.

And yet they're too damn useful to not have.

TD slumped. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Every time he closed his eyes, they had sprung open a short time later, filled with visions of blood.

What the hell am I going to do...? I...

Oh. The horse had started to move again... I suppose I should focus on not getting left behind first.
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