Ignition
One Step Beyond
It has been eons, but as the denizens of Najud have feared, the threads of creation have finally begun to unravel.
Balance is no more, as the clockwork might of the Vernes Empire and the divine rule of the Yu-Long Dynasty ride on a collision course that will spell disaster for all of the world.
Humans see no danger, reaching further and further for each scrap and morsel of power and glory.
Always unafraid, the na'ka prepare for the end, knowing they will go out fighting and finally be able to rejoin their god-fathers up in the outerdark.
Meanwhile, the frost elves wait in the cold lands in mysterious silence, holding onto answers they will never give even under the threat of death. Southward, their cousins the dune elves work to try and undo the coming war with what is left of their once grand nation.
And finally, the jinn do what they do best: peer into the next reality, and warn of the doom that will come to all.
In one way or another, peoples of all races cry out, but from the gods, they receive no answer.
Faeda is like the wind, Zarkuz, a silent wall. Misar is ever aloof, and Radhana can only wait with morbid patience as a final fear brought on from death approaches.
And Selmodius watches.
He watches each tick of the clock, counting down one by one until he can finally see the most unique moment to ever grace his immortal existence.
The end.
Not just the end of a life, or an empire, or a dynasty, but the end of all things.
___________________
Ayama Lithia Lace Lord_Toast_Reborn Steamdrunk GhostofWestphalia
___________________
“Confound it, boy! Where is my pen?!”Balance is no more, as the clockwork might of the Vernes Empire and the divine rule of the Yu-Long Dynasty ride on a collision course that will spell disaster for all of the world.
Humans see no danger, reaching further and further for each scrap and morsel of power and glory.
Always unafraid, the na'ka prepare for the end, knowing they will go out fighting and finally be able to rejoin their god-fathers up in the outerdark.
Meanwhile, the frost elves wait in the cold lands in mysterious silence, holding onto answers they will never give even under the threat of death. Southward, their cousins the dune elves work to try and undo the coming war with what is left of their once grand nation.
And finally, the jinn do what they do best: peer into the next reality, and warn of the doom that will come to all.
In one way or another, peoples of all races cry out, but from the gods, they receive no answer.
Faeda is like the wind, Zarkuz, a silent wall. Misar is ever aloof, and Radhana can only wait with morbid patience as a final fear brought on from death approaches.
And Selmodius watches.
He watches each tick of the clock, counting down one by one until he can finally see the most unique moment to ever grace his immortal existence.
The end.
Not just the end of a life, or an empire, or a dynasty, but the end of all things.
___________________
Ayama Lithia Lace Lord_Toast_Reborn Steamdrunk GhostofWestphalia
___________________
Beads of sweat formed on Lorenzo's brow, and try as he might to stay steady, he still ended up tripping over a stuffed ice-vulture as Lord Baravorn called out to him again.
“You find me that blasted thing…NOW!”
To this, Lorenzo nodded quickly, despite being in a completely different room.
“Yes, my Lord. Right away!”
Darting between bookcases and other assorted furniture, Lorenzo rummaged around like a man on the brink of starvation.
So much had gone wrong today.
Lady Fia was no more.
The Lord's most treasured servant had up and disappeared.
Two terrible moments: two vicious hammer blows to their lives, and now their entire household was awash with chaos.
Lorenzo pushed the distasteful thoughts out of his mind. Now was not the time to panic.
Finally, after another minute of frantic digging, Lorenzo found the Lord's worn pen, hidden just underneath two fallen volumes of “A Brief History of Najud.”
Prize in hand, Lorenzo hurried to the Lord's private quarters in the west wing. He quickly fixed his blue bowtie before entering, bowing as he presented the item to Lord Baravorn.
A man in his late fifties, the lord made an exasperated sigh through a bushy graying mustache. He took the pen and began to write upon parchment, quickly yet exquisitely.
He was finished in less than a minute. Without even making eye contact, he handed the finished missive to Lorenzo, voice gruff and demanding.
“You will make sure this is up and visible in Milano Square within the hour. We cannot waste anymore time.”
Lorenzo gulped, answering dutifully.
“Yes, of course. Anything, my Lord.”
He looked down at the missive. The words were clear and to the point.
____
SKILLED PERSONS NEEDED AT BARAVORN MANOR:
FOR THE SECURE RETURN OF A VALUABLE ASSET:
UPON DELIVERY - TEN THOUSAND GOLD REWARD
____
SKILLED PERSONS NEEDED AT BARAVORN MANOR:
FOR THE SECURE RETURN OF A VALUABLE ASSET:
UPON DELIVERY - TEN THOUSAND GOLD REWARD
____
Of course, finding said skilled persons was another matter entirely.
And so, under Lord Baravorn's direction, after a quick ride on the Clockway, a meek and nervous Lorenzo now waited at the meeting place; a tavern called The Twisted Gear, smack in the heart of the Calogero district.
The irony of it all failed to make him feel any better.
Why bother putting a handwritten request in the nicest part of the city, if in fact you wanted your so-called hired help to meet in the very worst part of the city?
After all, someone had to bring them to Baravorn Manor, and who else but Lorenzo?
The freckled boy craned his neck to look behind him, doing his best to avoid eye contact with any and all would-be criminals. He'd lived within the clockwork walls of Vincenzo all nineteen years of his life, and this was in fact the first time he'd ever stepped foot in this place mired with crime, corruption and villainy.
And as the boy noticed hungry eyes nearby, and eager hands reaching for what could easily be concealed daggers, he hoped it wouldn’t be his last.
Last edited: