The Reign of Retribution [Inactive]

[Delta]

Delta submitted a new role play:


The Reign of Retribution - Humans band together in Guilds to protect humanity from monsters in the ultimate balance of survival

Before we get started, this is a roleplay geared towards mature human beings and is not intended for immature persons or those that do not mingle well with violence. If beheading giant monsters in the name of friendship does not interest you, or driving the steel of your sword into the neck of a rampaging beastie doesn't make you smile like the battle-crazed maniac I need you to be, I will give you this one simple direction.
Leave now,...

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The strong wind blasting in his hears wailed in drastically varying pitches like an unstable frequency, the dagger-like snow that accompanied the tundra gale nibbled persistently at the outside layer of his lightly-bundled clothing. Alden Lochbuster turned his hooded-head towards his partner, Rynn, who seemed to be trekking the thick snow more efficiently than himself; which certainly wasn't saying much, as the taller fellow could have sworn he was big enough to be resisting enough drag from forced wind to be flown away into either the mouth of a Snow Goliath or impaled on a mountain. The two were making their way back from a warg nest, which they were sent out to raid for warg bones, so saith the contract they had accepted from the mission board back in the cozy and heated Schnee Maiden Guild hall. Alden carried the bones in a large sack that was slung over his shoulder, which was a double-edge because, while the sack allowed the transportation of more warg bones than if the two were to tuck as many under their arms as possible, slinging it over his shoulder allowed the bitter wind an entrance through his cloak to begin taking stabs at his red-leather tunic, which thankfully was reinforced enough to allow his swift maneuverability while keeping him mildly protected from attacks such as this damned relentless snow. Alden looked up ahead at Rynn once again and smiled, which was concealed by the hood of his cloak, telling himself that he'd spend his portion of the reward money treating his best friend to a meal of her choice for saving his ass... again.


The two had successfully tracked the warg nest, which was tucked inside a small cave- much like every other monster-dwelling in the unforgiving Blizzard Peak Expanse- Alden noted that there were 4 or 5 of the vicious bastards inside. The thrill of a battle surged through his being, and he flashed Rynn a quick pearly grin, a trademark of his, before unsheathing his red sword and charging into the den. Due to how fast the boy could run, he was able to take down a warg with a stab in the neck before the monsters could be aware of their surrounds. Having now entered a fight, Alden lost track of his thoughts like he always did in these situations, he had no recollection of what happened after that... until he snapped back to his senses and stared into the hungry mouth of the last standing warg that lunged at him, aiming for his throat. His current battle experience (or lack thereof) would render him incapable of possessing the reaction speed required to counter such an enemy attack. Before he had time to think, which he didn't do very often, Alden watched as his friend came down on the warg as if she had come down from the ceiling, onto the beast, her impressive strength having silenced the last warg. Unfortunately, it was this same impressive strength that had crushed most of the dead warg's bones, and thus they could only collect the few remaining intact ones for the contract.


When Alden had blinked this flashback away and came back to the land of the cognizant, he was staring down at his red strapped boots, which were no longer stomping into thick snow, but were instead supporting their dim-witted owner on dull grey stone. Suddenly, the incoherently cacophonous and jubilant screaming of just about every villager in Schnee Palast filled his ears even worse than the roaring winds of the snowy valley. When he raised his head, he gave a wincing smile as he saw Rynn, who was still ahead of him, was trying her best to try and peer over the taller crowd to no avail. Alden walked forward, gently grabbing Rynn's wrist so he could guide the two of to the front rows of who- or what- was causing these people to cry out so excitedly. Maneuvering the tightly packed villagers by weaving his hand through any small gap in between the shoulders of two different people whenever he could, Alden lead himself and his best friend in the constantly changing direction of his gloved hand like the swimming of a fish.


When Alden had cut a path for himself and Rynn like a red leather knife through annoyingly screaming butter, the two had successfully reached the front of the crowd. What stood at the center was a man, a very gallant-looking warrior. Certainly the older man belonged to a Guild, the Lochbuster fellow could at least read that much by examining the center-of-attention, who in no way looked like your typical person; but then again, Alden didn't either, so the boy couldn't judge the man too harshly. When Alden couldn't quite put a finger on who the man was, he looked down at Rynn to ask her if she knew, and he groaned as his best friend was behaving very similarly to the heart-throbbing mob, and Alden let out a sigh when he was finally able to make a single word that the crowd was shouting. "Wyrmslayer" was what rang out loud and true, and Alden's eyes suddenly went wide as he slowly swiveled his head back to the alleged Wyrmslayer. The Wyrmslayer was a- no, the- legendary warrior named Geron Zanitas, and Alden began mentally kicking himself in the ass for not recognizing the man sooner. Geron was the Lancer Commander General of the Major Guild Alliance, which meant that if Alden could get his attention, the Wyrmslayer might be to tell him the whereabouts of...of...


Dad.


With that single word muting out all other thoughts, Alden drew his dull red sword from its sheathe that was attached to the left of his waist, and did the one thing hew knew how to do; rush. Alden Lochbuster's eyes glazed over with sadness and desperation as he darted from the crowd towards Geron, and while he rushed at the Lancer Commander General with surprising speed that was fast enough to go unnoticed by the crowd, the boy failed to advance on the Wyrmslayer with a plan as to what he would do after that. Having been overcome with the desperation for much-needed answers, Alden certainly did not come up with a plan, and all he could do was keep running at Geron, also not thinking about the possibility that Alden could easily be stabbed with that large-curved blade of Geron's.

 

[Haley]

The sun was hot on Aisha's sweating body but she paid it no mind, she ignored the sweat that dripped in her narrowed eyes and she ignored the roaring pain her arms, back, and legs, just as she always did. The fierce woman gritted her teeth as the man's sword slammed down, catching hers and letting out a loud metallic RING as they clashed. No, this was no amazing fight that resulted from some life long vendetta or some heated fight over the last meatbug. It was simply a training exercise verses one of men in the guild with Aisha. I would like to add that it wasn't some life or death situation also but, when it came to Thal'Zim and the Thal'Blades, everything turned into life or death.


Aisha let out a frustrated battle cry and using a great deal of strength she shoved the man's sword away from hers, sending him rocking back on his heels a few steps. Aisha used this as opportunity to run onto him and slash at his chest. Her crude blade made contact and with a nasty swipe, a wound opened and Aisha was sprayed across her chest and neck with her opponent's blood. The man howled in pain and turned away from her reflexively. Behind her, Aisha could hear Bint-il Hommar yell for her to be victorious, along with many threats of breaking her bones if she failed.


With another battle cry Aisha threw all the strength she had left into a hard kick that landed in the small part of her opponent's back, sending him flying face forward into the hungry crowd of whooping and screeching spectators. They attempted to throw him back into the fight but he was unable to stand back up. So the other's dropped him back down and started to walk away, suddenly bored.


Aisha was victorious but she did not feel proud or like a champion no, she sighed and approached her opponent. He was only a kid, 14, new to the Thal'Blades. He was to be trained to be come mighty like the rest of them and the first person they put him against was Aisha, knowing he would be quickly defeated. The young woman rolled the groggy kid onto his back and placed her foot on his ripped open chest. he groaned but looked up at her, a fearless gleam in his eye that most Thal'Zim carried from birth.


"Anta satalqa mawt." (You will find death) She warned as she stared down at him coldly. "I will not be as merciful next time, practice more seriously." She said and relieved his chest and walked away,, leaving him in the dirt to eventually pick himself up and clean himself off.


Bint-il Hommar was waiting for her inside the clay brick building everyone was shuffling towards for food and drink. "That kid will not last long he is destined ma-ta (to die)" She growled and crossed her meaty arms over her wide and scarred chest.


Aisah huffed a small unenthusiastic chuckle. "Na'am (yes) hayk id-dunya (such is life)" She muttered in reply as they took a seat at one of the tables. Despite being apart of the guild and respected enough as one of the Thal'Blades, they were still women and had to eat last after all the men. usually that leave a whole lot for them so later when the men had gone to drinking, killing and raping some of the women around Thal'Zim (didn't happen to often but hey, women are possessions and not people so it happened enough) Aisha and Bint-il Hommar would go and hunt for food to fill their belly before settling down for the night.

 

[EliCarter]

~Rynn Brauchvich; Schnee Palast; with Alden~





The sore ache that weighed Rynn's muscles did not match the excited demeanor she carried, in fact, her pain was all but pushed aside as she struggled to get a better view of Geron. Geron. Geron the Lancer Commander General of the Major Guild Alliance. With a rough to shove to the waif of a girl in front of her she was finally able to see him, he was much more impressive the closer you got to him, it was something he radiated, something that completely drew her eyes to him. She couldn't pull them away.... it was probably that bombin' ass sword he carried around, that shit was the coolest.


As she continued to stare at Geron, holding back her screams with the rest of the girls a familiar red blur managed to catch her eye, it took her little to no time to figure out the red blur's target and who it was, she was already in mention trailing behind as her face began to heat in embarrassment and the expectation of combat. Was he honestly going to try and attack the Wyrmslayer? She fumbled to yank on her gauntlets as her thighs pumped, gritting her teeth and throwing in a random shoulder to shove someone out of her way, this was going to end bad, it couldn't end as anything but bad. In a desperate attempt to get him to stop she let out a loud growl before letting loose with an ear-splitting,


"AAAALLLDDEEENNNN!"

 

[killerlung]

Rak sat in his tent, drapes of skin made up the rather large room. Held together by twine, and supported with bones, the man had acquired something with his blades that was foreign to many of the Thal'Zim. Rak had acquired property, something wholly his own, something he could ensure would never fall to another, or at least he could until he weakened.


Rak laughed at the thought, weakness, it wasn't a concept he understood. To be weak in this land was to die, and since he had never died, he had never known what it meant to be weak. He sighed, crouching down and sharpening his blade. The serrated bone blade, that he had so carefully covered in poison. He smiled, as he brought his finger up to inspect it.


The finger was cut, no doubt by the same blade he had intended to sharpen. His wicked grin soon gave way to an otherworldly laugh that quite frankly had no place on this earth. His vision began to bend, his walls began to shift, and the colors began to change. If only slightly, if only ever so slightly Rak had poisoned himself once again. Though the effects wouldn't last long, his tolerance much too high to be felled by a simple prick.


Rak laughed maniacally, taking to his feet and grabbing his blades as he slashed a new hole out from his meager hut. He would no doubt have to stitch that back later, though he knew no one would dare steal from him in the meantime. He laughed, spinning a bit as if some fanged windmill. His blades kept spinning with him, and he cut several other huts on his way to the feasting chamber.


He stumbled back and forth, most likely appearing as any common drunk. As a common rule, the drunk didn't survive long in the desert and were thus often avoided or taken advantage of. Though once again, no one would dare start with Rak, a man so feared he was called a desert demon.


He giggled, passing a small group of children, he stopped. Looking down at the children for a moment, he paused realizing he was completely naked, save for his red cactus moccasins. A seemingly awkward silence blew over the group, as a stray gust of wind blew sand between Rak and the group of children.


Rak shrugged, not really caring as he turned and walked away. Meanwhile the kids, quickly ran away, knowing full well who the seemingly insane man was.


Rak yawned, as he finally neared the massive guild hall, he spotted a circle of men, he sighed noting the effects of the poison were declining. Agitated by his lack of entertainment, Rak decided to see what entertainment could be had by joining in on this gathering. Though as he did he was only met with the ending, something he was disappointed to find ended in minimal bloodshed. Though he was delighted to see Aisha, after all he did have a 'thing' for that girl. Though he hadn't quite decided yet if that was a killing 'thing' or a romantic 'thing', though in some cases those two no doubt went hand in hand for him. He sighed, walking away from the finished spar, "S'alla Suka'" he muttered under his breath, as he watched the boy get back up. Noting the exchange between Aisha and the boy that preceded it. Wait what had she said to him!? What secrets had she to share with this whelp!?


This wasn't good, this boy was threatening their 'thing' whatever that 'thing' was. With a crazed look in his eye, Rak turned around and stepped toward the 14 year old whelp. Smiling as if the friendliest man in the world, he stepped before the boy as he took to his feet. And in one stroke, severed the boy's head from his neck. Rak's expression didn't change as his face was showered in blood, no, that same smile remained fiendishly in place.


Rak grabbed the boy's body, holding it up, even as its knees gave way. He smiled as the fountain of blood spurted from the boy's jugular vein. At first in large streams, and then in tiny spurts. Rak was sure to get a good portion of it on his hair and face, before letting the boy's body fall.


Rak licked his lips a bit, delighted with the iron taste that greeted his tongue. He smiled, throwing his swords into the dirt, so that the sharp blades pierced the loose desert earth. He then wiped the blood from his face, and brought a hand through his blood covered hair. Oh the smell of blood, he loved it so! Though so did any Thal'Blade worth their salt.


Without a bath in several days Rak would have to rely on the smell of blood to disguise the odor that desert life brought with it. He grinned, grabbing his blades and heading in the direction of the feed lot. He would of course be served first, though arriving too late would still result in a cold, or unsuitable dinner.


He passed the group of terrified onlookers, some Thal'Blades, others just spectating villagers. Rak smiled, and began to twirl his blades around jovially. As a result he was delighted to see that he was given a rather large opening from the crowd.


Oh what a beautiful world! he thought to himself as he marched his way merrily toward the feasting hall for drinks, food, and the undeniable presence of bloodshed.

 

[Haley]

As Aisha sat at one of the broken and wobbly table like furniture made from bones, skin and clay. She attempted to loose herself in thought. She was somewhere between ripping the head from a wild Scorchlands beast and eating something warm and digestible when suddenly the room got more quiet and she followed everyone's stares towards the entrance when no one other than Rak, the quartermaster strolled in, covered in blood, fresh blood.


"Where is the new kid...?" She asked, suddenly feeling her stomach tighten ever so slightly, her gut telling her what she already knew.


Her female friend and mentor looked over her broad shoulder at Rak and studied him for a moment before turning back to Aisha. "all over him." She said bluntly.


Aisha closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. Of course, she did not mourn the death of the whelp, he was weak and would have died a brutal death in combat but she had the feeling Rak did not give him that chance. "I wonder for what reason." She mumbled.


Bint-il Hommar gave a soft chuckle, her large scarred shoulders trembling slightly under her heavy armor. "From Rak who knows, he will kill someone just because they looked at him funny in a dream he had. entaa majnoun (masculine crazy; pretty much he's crazy)" She replied and shrugged.


Aisha raised an eyebrow and dared to look across the way right at him, she took her time observing him, rather than averting her eyes although, she did hope he didn't really notice her. She took in his details and mad look about him before returning her cold stare back at the dirty table. "Is it true that he stays in his tent mostly to get himself high on poisons?" She asked, lifting her gaze to meet Bint-il Hommar's who gave a suspicious gaze back.


"I am not sure. Do not ask any more questions about him, there is no need for such knowledge, searching for such answers is a quick way to get killed." She growled, leaning her large head in closer to Aisha.

 

[Riddle78]

Canyons of Eternal Stone,one of many Minecrawler nests near Jadetown





Izzet the Firemind was clomping down a tunnel,behind a few Spore Creeps. He was alone,as per usual,but that didn't bother him much. He was confident in his skills as a hunter. Especially when it came to hunting Minecrawlers. Everything he had was to kill the albino death spiders,from his armour-piercing estoc,made from a crawler's forelimb,to his own signature magic to scare and cook them alive.


Of course,his magical flames are a poor substitute for the real thing. The flames he conjures are less intense than a natural flame. However,he can conjure them at will,without fuel,and without having to fiddle with anything. Just gesture and think.


In his left hand was the estoc in question. With a blade just over a meter long,it gave him a difinitive reach advantage,which is nice,considering that all he can do with it is poke. He wasn't exactly a skilled swordsman,or fencer. He relied heavily on his magic. The most complex thing he knew how to do was to parry a strike and follow it up with a lunge,and footwork rarely crosses his mind.


His right hand was empty,but it was open,arm extended,ready to unleash his secret art on the first crawler he saw. Izzet's breath echoed back to him through his mask,and off the walls around him. The Spore Creeps trundled along,seeking their favored prey.


Seeking his favored prey.


Minecrawlers are interesting creatures. Large as a horse-drawn carriage,they can crawl on walls and their bites deliver a flesh-melting venom,and the creatures themselves are armoured well enough to turn most non-specialized weapons. However,they were cave dwellers. Light blinded them. And they retained their heat well. Too well,if someone were to light them up.


These were the reasons he developed pyromancy. Fire was hot,and fire was bright. The perfect tool.


Izzet traveled the tunnels without a lantern. The Spore Creeps were like miniature suns down in these caverns. As they proceeded down the tunnels,twisting through the maddening maze of tunnels,Minecrawler silk began to appear on the surfaces. Thick strands that reflected the light every which-way,making the cavern look like wet glass. As they proceeded,the silk thickened,until it eventually completely covered the stone.


All around him,Izzet heard the clicking and hissing of Minecrawlers,always out of reach. Always out of sight. In the tunnel,the crawlers wouldn't be able to strike. The Spore Creeps gave off too much light in these quarters for them to do anything. However,Izzet knew that they were being stalked,and knew that the moment they entered a gallery or other open space,they'd make their move.


As predicted,the Spore Creeps eventually led him to a truly massive cavern. It was like an entire canyon from the surface was simply capped off by the earth itself. Spanning this canyon was a bridge,made entirely of Minecrawler silk,suspended with ropes of the stuff. The bridge was broad,and Izzet knew that such a structure would only exist if it was a high traffic area of the hive.


The Spore Creeps led him to the middle of the bridge,and waited. They knew what was coming. They were more sensitive to vibrations than he was. But,experience told him that the wave was coming. A crushing tsunami of clicking legs and armoured plates. And under his mask,Izzet's disfigured countenance stretched into a grotesque smile.


This was life at it's most simple. Kill or be killed. Dominate,or be dominated. And to him,you were only alive when you are earning your right to continued existence,dominating other creatures,proving to them that you are above them. He will prove to this hive that he was the supreme being. And he will judge it unworthy to exist,just as he'd done to countless hives before.


The Minecrawlers will become a distant memory,and he will be their purging flame.


It only taken a few moments for him to hear the approaching swarm. Ahead,behind,and all around,the Minecrawlers surged forth. They were advancing like the sea after Progenitus dives; an all-consuming wave,intent on crushing all before it. He's seen it time and again. And the memories made him laugh. It began as a chuckle,but it quickly evolved into a bellowing cackle. "Yes! Come to me! Come to me and understand that I am in every way your better!"





The swarm surged forth,vibrating his world around him. The bridge beneath him shook and swayed as Minecrawlers surged onto it. He waited until the creatures entered the gloomy corona of the Spore Creep's glow before he acted,for maximum effect. With a mad cackle,Izzet thrust his right hand forth,and conjured a great ball of flame in the palm. It seared his flesh,but it was grossly incandescent,nearly blinding even him.


But it hit the Minecrawlers like the wrath of Kalameet. They reeled,attempting to cover their faces with their spindly forelegs,and ultimately failed. The light assaulted their senses like a legion of spearmen,burning their sensitive eyes,and paralyzed their tiny brains with nothing but pain and fear. Cackling maliciously,Izzet advanced,driving his estoc into the head of the first creature,and giving it a little swish. With a soft squelch and pop,he pierced the monster's eye,and penetrated into the brain,and proceeded to scramble it like eggs.


Turning his gaze on the next Minecrawler,he drove his right hand into the creature's face,and detached the flame. The fire clung to the creature's face,and it screeched in agony and terror as the fire began to spread and intensify,now no longer under Izzet's restrictions. Before the flame could spread to the bridge he was standing on,however,he kicked the foul insect off,causing it to tumble below into the abyss. He didn't bother to watch the creature's pathetic tumble to it's doom,but a satisfied smile graced his visage as a thunderous crash and shattering reached his ears from below.


The flame was gone from his hand,but the Minecrawlers were still recovering from the sudden intrusion of light in their perpetually dark world,and Izzet gleefully capitalized on the opportunity by running the beasts through on his estoc and kicking them down. It didn't take too long for him to finish off the truly debilitated ones,and step back from the creatures. This was an entire swarm. He could certainly do this all day,but he'd only kill half of them like this.


He began to backpedal,glancing over his shoulder periodically. Every time he glanced,he liked what he saw; the Spore Creeps chowing down on crawlers,as they're wont to do,their strong glow keeping the crawlers from getting close. As he passed one Spore Creep,happily chewing away at the back half of a Minecrawler,Izzet turned around,and took off at a full sprint,deeper into the hive. He had a good idea on where to find the crawler's queen.


Bounding down the cave,Izzet simply cast small puffs of flame at any Minecrawlers he passed along the way,and actually ran across the backs of the Minecrawlers that were too thick to weave through. Eventually,the Minecrawlers thinned to nothing,and he knew he was getting close when he heard a moist squelching ahead. The hive queen,forever producing eggs. Of course,the queen could be a fair distance off,the sound being carried by excellent acoustics.


However,as he rounded a bend,he came upon a gallery,with openings to tunnels everywhere. The heart of the hive. And at the center was a massive,disgusting thing. It resembled a giant slug standing on one end,with scythe-like limbs coming from the upper half. As he entered with his ball of flame in hand,the queen screeched. The sound was not meant for human ears,and impossible to describe.


Izzet hurled the fireball at the Minecrawler's queen,and trespassed into the room proper. The fireball struck the bloated monster in the midsection,causing it to screech in pain. Sheathing his sword,Izzet cracked his knuckles,and said, "Look at you,you bloated thing. So fat you can't move from here. You wouldn't be able to escape from what I had planned even if I didn't kill you first." With a harsh bark,Izzet thrust his hands forward,and with a mighty roar,unleashed twin gouts of flame at the queen,cooking it alive. The monster shrieked and recoiled,vainly swatting at the flames that assaulted it,as if that would help. After a minute,the queen's flailing weakened,and stopped. Izzet kept going for a minute after that,just to make sure.


All that remained of the wretched thing was a blackened,shriveled mass of foul-smelling flesh. Some of the silk around him had caught flame,but nowhere near enough to purge the nest. Izzet looked around the chamber,seeing where the tunnels were. After a quick observation,he began to unleash blasts of fire into the tunnels,setting them alight. Within moments,he was surrounded by flames.


Izzet turned on his heel and set on his way to the tunnel that brought him here. On his way out,he casually unclipped two orbs from the belt running from his shoulder to hip,and tossed them over his shoulders. They shattered on impact with the silken floor,releasing balls of flame,igniting the chamber proper.


Izzet reached the mouth of his tunnel,and stopped. Not by some suicidal urge to bear witness to his destruction,but to remove the soles of his boots. He undid the clasps,and slid them out,revealing his bare feet to the caves,and slid the soles into a pouch on his belt. With that,he did a little hop in place to switch his step,and started off down the tunnel at a brisk jog,flames coming to life on his feet,setting fire to the silk underfoot.


The flames Izzet conjure are tame. They burn bright,but not hot. However,this is only true while it's in contact with him. Once free,the flames join the natural order of the world,demanding fuel to continue existence. And as fire consumes fuel,it burns ever hotter. Ever faster. This is what allowed Izzet to singlehandedly purge crawler nests. This was simply routine for him.


Izzet jogged down the tunnel,flames at his back,as if he were some creature of Ragnarok. Many of the Minecrawlers fled at his approach,but those that were paralyzed by pain and fear were simply consumed by the flames he heralded. As he approached the bridge,he saw that the Spore Creeps were plodding away,having eaten their fill. The Minecrawlers didn't bother pursuing them,as they were too bright to approach.


Izzet stopped for a moment as he reached the grand subterranean canyon,drawing breath. Then,he took off at a dead sprint. The flames in his wake spread quickly,consuming the silk like kindling,the Minecrawlers like logs. Izzet cast the firebombs from his bandoleer to the chasm below,to spread the flames to the far reaches of the nest ever faster.


He peeled past the Spore Creeps and beyond,caring little for their safety now that they had filled their purpose. He continued his sprint even when he left the bridge,now unleashing gouts of flame from his hands,creating a swirling storm of fire behind and around him as he fled the hive,which was now Hell on Earth. He reached the tunnels untouched by the silk,and put out the flames that were now up to his knees,and slowed to a stop a dozen or so feet from the cavern he just dashed from.


It was a fiery Hell. Nothing could survive beyond. Satisfied with his work,he retrieved his soles from the pouch and put them back in. Secured,he began to trot back to Jadetown,barely feeling the pain in his feet,thanks to nerve damage.

 

[ninbinz]

The cold wind washed over him like a wave, it bore swathes of snow that pelted him in clumps and speckled his face with specks of white fluff. His eyebrows and the fleece hem of his hood were a motley of black and white snow, despite his outer discomfort he was in fact very warm. Caeris was donned in a thick parka and a pair of woolen trousers and leggings lined with runes for warmth and dryness. That plus the added heat from a small fire he built to maximize for heat had him in a great mood despite the weather barring him from further book studying. For the moment he had to busy and content himself with practicing his spoken runes, so far he had managed to burn a twig without the need of a etched rune. His training was coming slowly but so far as he knew, he was the only one known to have been born with Rune Magic. The council had simply written him off as some type of wilder mage until he had managed to prove them wrong when he first used the full extent of his abilities.


So far none of the traps he set an hour ago had drawn any victims and he was becoming annoyed, he didn't want to spend another night in the snow if he could avoid it. In the distance there was a sudden yelp followed by panicked yammering, he he'd done it!! Finally he caught a Warg, the beasts had been rather elusive. Caeris was excited, elated, beside himself with the prospect of learning more about the Wargs beyond their vicious demeanor and extreme territorial behaviour. He wasted no time and scuffed out his small fire with the abundant snow lying all around him. His snow shoes crunched loudly in the mounds of frozen ice shavings that fell from the sky, his onyx glasses helped keep him from going snow blind and his rune etched clothes would keep him warm even were he to fall asleep under a mound of stone. He was heading towards the east, it was there the sound came from and he knew exactly where it should.


There it lay, asleep on the ground the Warg had fallen to the sleep runes etched on the bindings that trapped it. He had two hours before the beast would awake. Caeris couldn't risk dissecting it in his current environment and he didn't quite have the required amount of guild support for that sort of undertaking, for now he'd have to take samples for later examination and make observations of the monster's physical attributes. He was quick and efficient in taking out his tasks, he had taken shavings from claws, snippets of fur from different parts of the body and he took a few ounces of saliva. The Warg's breath stunk of carrion with a sweet note which was intriguing, it meant one of two things, the monster's territory was much larger than he had ever expected or that there was a sweet fruit growing in the Blizzard Peak Expanses he did not know of. He listened to the creatures chest and surmised that it had two hearts due to the erratic pulse of the beating. He checked the Warg's eyes and found that it too was subject REM sleep, this made him wonder if they dreamed like human beings did.


His task completed, he returned to his horse, it stood beneath the eaves of a snow laden tree, covered in a rune etched blanket, it would be just as warm as he was. He saddled the horse and set forth for the city of Schnee Palast, there he would take refuge with their guild before returning to Flake village.

 

[UnholyRedemption]

Pandora rarely would remain still during her occasional periods of boredom but as time passed she had settled within her quarters, propped up by a mass of pillows she had collected upon her travels across the ocean. Her eyes were focused, poised upon the wall as she encased a silky white cushion within her arms, crushing it to her torso as her lips pulled themselves further into a scowl. Slowly, tauntingly she watched the fly that had sat upon the wooden walls before she followed it as it moved to her desk. It was taunting her and she knew it.


She really didn't like it.


Cautiously she placed her feet upon the floor, eyes not once shifting from her prey as she slowly headed towards the shelves. Her fingers moved quietly to the books as she dragged one from its place, constantly aware of each sound she made. "Come here you little pest..." She hissed venomously, nails running against the books cover as she crept closer. SLAM. The fly had died and the pirate captain stood with a large smirk upon her lips, a triumphant look that only served to make her feel immense pride at the fact she killed the nasty little creature who had roamed there for a couple hours. She was thankful that the thing was dead.


A few minutes later the woman appeared outside her room, dressed in her usual combination of clothes and unnecessary jewelry, her lips still in a prideful smirk as she walked over to one of her ship mates, her hands resting on her lips, displaying the pure mirth she found in crushing that damned bug. A woman in her early twenties looked over at Pandora, raising a brow to the joyous look upon her captains face. "Killed the fly?" Was all she asked before Pandora gave her a cheeky grin. "Of course I killed that little pest. It was in my room. What do those little pests not get. If they come in they die. Simple." She ranted, folding her arms over her torso before she looked back over at Emily. "Why, how long was I in there this time?" The woman, now recognized as Emily shook her head. "A good hour or so. You know Captain, its just a fly. It would probably leave if you left the door open." She suggested.


Silence.


Pandora turned her narrowed green gaze to Emily, her lips set back in the vengeful scowl she previously held to the previously alive fly. Two seconds later the captain had thrown her arms up into the air, wailing dramatically as she turned upon her heels, storming off. "Do you not understand my dilemma! They are horrid little beasts!" Yes, the dual cutlass wielding captain despised those little bugs and her whole crew knew it. More than enough times she had stormed out her room, a look of disgust on her usually grinning features as she would continue to complain about a fly. The woman walked up the steps, slamming her foot down forcefully as she headed to the furthest part of the ship, away from her crew.


The raven haired captain stood upon the quarter deck, leaning her back against the rails as she huffed, closing the emerald green eyes as she leaned her head back to watch the clouds. The beautiful, relaxing and serene clou- "Boring." Pandora was extremely negative, most of the time she would hold a deep hatred towards for no real apparent reason. An now, the clear clouds were annoying her. After a few minutes of glaring the emerald eyed captain turned to watch her crew who were chatting or walking back on the ship.


Moments flew by before her lips twitched to a sly grin and she bolted across the deck. Eventually, her heavy steps had reached their destination and she was stood above the hold, glancing down through the hatch door at her target. The rum. She crouched down, fingers curled around the wooden door as she yanked it open, ignoring the creaking sound that it produced as she jumped down. Landing crouched she slowly stood up straight, eyes trailing with delight over the bottles she had collected before she took the nearest one. Rolling the bottle with her hand, listening to the swish of the liquid as she grasped the ladder, making her way back up to the main deck. Emily.


The younger woman's lips were curled to a soft frown, arms folded over her torso as she huffed. "Captain, you will run our supply of that low you know." Pandora groaned, childishly glaring as she hid the bottle behind her. "I dont care!" "Captain! You ser-" "I really don't care!" She called out, already walking towards the steps that led off the ship. "I'll be back in a hour or so! Take care of the ship Emily!" She called out, by now having stepped upon the solid land.


Pandora walked through the royal port of Fendor, yawning slightly. Luckily, the lady pirate was constantly equipped with her weaponry and so was quite content with trying to find something to do within a good distance of her ship. There was no way she'd travel a large distance since she constantly feared that her ship would be taken. Specially since she herself had stolen it off a previous pirate group. That was a memorable day. A grin slipping its way onto her lips as she brought the bottle of rum towards her, taking a swig of the rum she carried with her before pausing her steps, eyes staring ahead for a moment as she tried to recall something before she shrugged. "Maaaahhh, If I'm forgetting something I'm sure Emily will remind me later." With that, she continued her 'quiet' stroll through the Royal port of Fendor.

 

[killerlung]

Rak sighed as he entered the feasting hall, he still swung his blades around aimlessly, and glanced around the room for anything to pique his interest. He spotted Aisha out of the corner of his eye, making note of the girl's presence. He'd be sure to revisit that , though for now his first priority was fixing his current ailment, that being the resounding lack of toxicity in his blood. An issue that would not be hard to solve in this den of wolves known as the Thal'Blades feasting hall. He gripped his blades, having no sheathes in which to holster them, he walked up to a meat bug burning over an open flame, cutting himself off a chunk with the same bloody blade he had just severed a young man's head with.


He grinned, looking around to watch as his guild mates backed up, perhaps it was the blood? Or perhaps it was the long poison laced blades he was so trivially throwing around like common kitchen knives? No, this was something much worse, the fear in the eyes of these men was not born of present circumstance. This fear was born of past experiences, of seeing, feeling, and hearing of his terrible deeds.


This was the power of a man's reputation, and Rak knew it, he grinned widely as he walked away. Chomping on the piece of meat he had acquired. He walked to a table, watching as all of the men sitting at it scattered . Obviously fleeing another potential outburst, the men began to look for new places to eat, some took to the ground, while others found other tables.


Meanwhile Rak dug into his meal, his unremarkable meal, he tug at the tough meat with his teeth, tearing at the fibrous tissue and chewing in long exaggerated chomps. He reached for a full glass of Savvka Juice, no doubt left behind by one of the whelps that had fled his presence.


The Savvka juice was warm, as all things were in the desert, and bit at his throat as if trying to free itself from the confines of his gullet. He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing the alcohol would soon dehydrate him, he made note of it, though he had no intention to stop drinking. Alcohol was after all a poison as well, a poison Rak despised, for being too little fun, and too weak to kill effectively. Though as Rak thought about poisons he suddenly realized he had used his poison dripped blade to cut this piece of meatbug. He looked back towards his Savvka juice, shrugging a moment before downing another long gulp.


His vision was already starting to blur a bit, alcohol and blade poison!? He smiled like a child, taking another bite of his meatbug he glanced over to find that 2 men that followed him in line eating their own slabs of meat. He giggled, no doubt amused to see their reactions to his concocted toxin.


Without fail as if on cue the two men began to stop eating, and simply stare at the world around them as if it were their first time seeing it. Their pupils dilated, their mouths salivated, and they began to grasp out at the air as if they were reaching for something. Then came the screams, as the men looked at the men around them they huddled together, and shivered terribly, obviously filled with terror from their own comrades' presences .


Rak began to laugh uncontrollably and hysterically, this was truly a glorious day! He smiled proudly as his own vision began to skew a bit. He turned just in time to spot the knight that began to march up to him, though by now the knight looked more like a meatbug.


The knight wore heavy bone over his bare chest, and shouted at Rak in a voice sturdy and loud. "You think your tough!? Your funny!? What are you without your blades and poisons Gurun? A boy in men's clothing? Spinav Dentinsk Jeden (filthy childish one)!" he shouted in anger. Obviously perturbed by Rak's poisonous games, and outraged at the fact that his hunting party had now been reduced to babbling idiots.


Rak grinned, standing up only to be pushed back down by the man. Rak fell backwards onto his ass, though he was aggravated by the fall he in no way let on. Rak laughed, "Bir cocuka? Belki..." (A child? perhaps...) Rak smiled as he looked to his challenger.


His vision was still altered, in the man's place he saw a rather large meatbug. Though despite his poison induced hallucination, he still knew the identity of his challenger. A knight by the name of Kakku Sadj, a strong burly man with misguided aspirations of greatness. "I don't need blades or poisons to kill a meatbug like you" he said with crazed eyes as he popped his knuckles.


Rak knew that to deny this man his battle would invite more challenges from the other wolves that called Thal'Zim home. He smiled like a wild man, though he swayed a bit.


Kakku smiled as well, this was the answer he was fishing for, the first fight of the night had just begun. And for the larger than life man, this was his opportunity to take the title Guild Quartermaster title for himself.


Rak jumped around a bit, noting the growing crowd around the two men. "and the name....It's Rak..." he said very coldly, the men around him shuddered knowing the pain Rak could inflict when his new name was forgotten. After all these whelps couldn't be familiar with who he was now, who the desert had shaped him into, the destroyer, the spirit of desert.


Rak licked his lips, still gathering the taste of the dried blood onto the tip of his tongue. He watched as the Kakku took off his giant armor, though with his hallucinations still in full swing, it appeared more like the giant meatbug was molting, shedding its massive shell for a new one. Rak paused a moment, walking back to the table and grabbing another unceremonious sip from the crude clay mug of Savvka juice, he gulped it down and turned back toward Kakku.


"Prenzes Hazi Mir?" (Ready princess?), he asked with an excited grin as he took another gulp. No doubt he was waiting for the beast like man to let loose, to come out him like the creature he was.


By now the entire feasting hall had started to gather around the two men, watching in awe as Rak swayed back and forth before a man almost double his size. The men shouted for blood as they gathered and the feasting hall erupted into a chorus of bloodcurdling shouts....

 

[Don Valence]

~Geron Zanitas, the Wyrmslayer; Schnee Palast~




​

The frigid wind of the icy realm was something of a burden for Geron as it blew through and over the steel plates of his armor, brushing against the worn, fur-lined leather beneath before exiting out and disappearing into the air. The breeze's icy tendrils seemed to pierce through the skin of Geron's aged face, stroking his beard with its cold caress. His iron greaves made sloshing sounds as his feet drove them into the snow below, hardly feeling the melting ice that was finding its way into the metallic boots and his toes; thankfully, he also had layers of non-absorbant socks. However, their stench could probably kill a Hydra . . . perhaps he should try that method someday. If it worked, the troublesome beasts would be much easier to handle. A grin grew on his face at the memory of his first encounter with a dreaded Hydra while on board a Galleon Guild vessel, and vividly recalled the horrid smell of decay from the monster's jaws and the scent of its coppery blood. The predator within him became excited at the memory, but Geron quickly suppressed the dangerous entity; he could not afford to allow it to gain a single step out of the confines of his mind.


Geron paused for a moment and raised a hand to where his left eye was, covered by the eyepatch that sealed away the Mark of the Beast. The warrior's smile faded and was replaced by a brooding frown, his body still as he also recalled a day very similar to this one . . . the day he had lost his mentor and in return was given fame and honor. What of justice? Was I ever granted that? Geron knew the answer to that question, although he always asked himself it whenever he dwelled on the past. While Venkalos may be dead, was it worth all the pain he had suffered? No, that was not entirely correct; Venkalos' physical form may be dead, but his spirit lingered within Geron, alongside the Mark. Venkalos sometimes spoke to him, aiding him in times of need . . . it was a bizarre relationship at best, and Geron always inquired as to why the fallen pseudo-Deity chose to help him. Because you are my champion, Wyrmslayer. We are one and the same; lone entities of justice and fairness in a world tainted by corruption and despair. Humanity has been punished for their crimes in the past, but now it is time for my children and my father to know my fury! Geron paid his spiritual companion no mind as he resumed his walk towards his destination; the ice-bound city of Schnee Palast.


For several hours, Geron strode through the snow with a determined expression hidden by the cowl of his cloak, his limbs moving fluidly despite his age. Anyone who was intelligent could tell what sort of life Geron lived simply by the way he moved; he had the gait of a warrior hardened by years of intense combat, and the upright stature of a life-long soldier. In truth, that was what the Guilds were in a sense; different military branches, each with their own functions and specialties . . . his own, he held dominion over the Major Guild Alliance's primary battle faction, the Lancer Corps, and served as their Commander General. That alone made him renowned throughout the territories of New Wahrheit, but it was only a small piece of the puzzle that was Geron Zanitas. He was known to be a slayer of demi-gods, and a demon in human form; unfortunately, almost everyone thought of Geron only as the legendary monster hunter, and few knew of his scholarly, intellectual side. Why, sometimes only small children and their parents saw the softer side of Geron when he arrived at local towns and major cities, occassionally taking time out of his day to tell groups of excited younglings of his great exploits, and of mysteries that existed beyond what most would consider normal civilization. Truthfully, Geron was your typical warm old man at heart, but his duties and his past prevented him from acting on his gentler emotions.


Geron suddenly felt a chill inch of his spine . . . and it was not from the bitter wind. His instincts took hold of his body as he tossed himself aside to his right, barely avoiding the frostbitten arm of an Ice Shriek that had tried to sneak up on the elder warrior. When Geron landed, he quickly rolled and thrust himself back onto his feet, taking on a defensive stance with his feet spread apart while the beast roared its rage and came at him again. With a grimace, Geron waited for the monster to be right on top of him before shifting away swiftly to the left, bringing his plate-covered knee into the beast's stomach and driving the air from its lungs before dealing another brutal blow to the back of its neck with his fist. He heard the satisfying noise of broken cartilage and bone as the Ice Shriek collapsed into the snow like a rag doll, dead before its head struck the ground with its neck twisted in an awkward angle. Geron had only a moment to study the monster before he was set upon again by another Ice Shriek. He recalled that the abominable creatures roamed in packs, and that he could expect more to arrive soon. As if reading his mind, two more appeared off in th. distance, their howls piercing through the icy winds. Geron retreated from them to a safer distance, drawing his sword from its black leather sheath and pointing the tip at the closest of the monsters.


The Ice Shrieks spread out slowly as they studied him, their noses twitching as they tried to identify him. The beasts were being overly cautious . . . and for good reason, for it was not his own scent they were picking up, but that of Venkalos the Judge. The monsters of New Wahrheit did not communicate and share information like humans did, obviously, but they did possess a form of collective memory which allowed them to identify certain individuals; he was a peculiar human in their eyes . . . a predator who possessed the scent of a pseudo-deity. Once the beasts had gotten a good look at him, one of the white-furred monstrocities charged at him in a burst of superhuman speed. Geron side-stepped at the last moment as the monster roared past him and made a horizontal class, severing the beast's arm at the elbow and causing it to unleash a scream of agony. Another of its ilk used the opportunity to get in close to the warrior and swung one of its great arms downward at his head. Shifting his one-eyed blue gaze to his new opponent, Geron parried the blow with his left arm, feeling the vicious impact intensely despite the armor and grimacing at the pain. Snarling like one of the Ice Shrieks, he impaled the monster on his large, curved blade.


A splatter of blood soaked his chestplate, with a few droplets managing to score his face. The beast roared in feral fury and tried to make a desperate grab at Geron, but he withdrew the blade and swung it in a tight circle, using the force of the motion to decapitate the Ice Shriek at the base of the neck and sending a spray of crimson liquid onto the snow around him. With its neck turned into a fountain of blood, the body collapsed to the ground with a thud. Geron turned to deal with the other wounded Ice Shriek, which was trying to stop the bleeding from its severed arm. His eye settled on the monster, and he stalked toward it as though he were a wolf coming to finish off his meal . . . he was so absorbed by the thrill of the kill and the smell of the blood that he was caught unaware when the last Ice Shriek struck him from the side, sending him rolling into the snow for several meters. Geron thrusted his sword into the earth to stop himself, digging the mystic metal into the frozen ground and jolting himself still from the sudden halt. His teeth clenched as he felt around at his right eye . . . the patch covering the Mark was missing; the Ice Shriek had knocked it off.

Spoiler

[media]

[/media]

He stood up slowly, raising his deathly gaze up to the monsters before him. Unlike his normal left eye, his right was entirely black with the exception of a few runic symbols within their dark depths. The symbols began to shine and transform into rings of blue fire until all one could see when looking into the eye was an endless torrent of flame. Fury shook at the core of Geron's being, and he could feel Venkalos' power surge through him. The dragon's noble voice echoed inside his head, coaxing him. Embrace it, Geron, like you always have. Let in your rage, for you are an executioner! Take in the bestial flames, and use them to punish these pathetic morsels! Burn them, burn them to a- Geron drowned out the rest of what the spirit was telling him, instead grabbing onto the energy within his being and directing it toward his hands. An intense heat began to grow in his arms that spread throughout his body, steadily rising as the snow beneath him began to vaporize. Smoke started to rise from his sword and left hand, causing the beasts before him to retreat a few steps from him, letting out their cries of defiance at the Wyrmslayer. With a smile that would have fit on a lion cornering its prey, Geron stepped towards them as the smoke grew. By the time he was close, his sword was entirely covered in furious azure flames, and his left fist became an orb of the same fire.


It appeared as though his sword had become a blazing dragon's fang, and his hand that of the legendary beast's claws. Letting its own anger take over its senses, the unwounded Ice Shriek roared and came at Geron. His smile widened as he charged into the beast as well, ramming himself into its chest and raising his fiery fist before stabbing it into the monster's guts. The unnatural scream it released almost pierced Geron's ear drums as his hand dove into its writhing flesh, the stench of burning flesh filling his nose with its sickly-sweet odor. Roaring his bestial rage, Geron used his raw strength and began to widen the wound, barely noticing the creature's scorched innards falling to the snowy floor below as he stabbed his blade upward through the opening, cutting off the Ice Shriek's screech when the burning blade entered its body and pierced its heart. With a grunt, Geron pulled both his hand and sword out of the blazing carcass of the beast and pushed it aside to burn fiercely on the ground. It was at this time that the final and armless Ice Shriek began to turn and run in primal terror. Raising his sword, Geron adjusted his arm and his stance before taking aim at the fleeing creature's back. The flames of his right eye condensed until they were a pin-point, pupil-like blaze; with his target locked, he threw the heavy, burning sword at the retreating beast. He watched with grim satisfaction as it spun through the air in a spiral of enchanted fire before being driven through the Ice Shriek's upper chest.


The Ice Shriek let loose a final, bone-chilling scream before its entire form burst into blue flames, its silhouette black against the intense light. By the time Geron arrived to retrieve his sword, the fires had completely receded, and the Ice Shriek's corpse was nothing but ash. After a brief moment of internal struggle, Geron shut off the flow of magic within his body before picking up his sword once more and sheathing it. His right eye returned to its dormant, black state and the flames returned to their original runic symbols. Geron observed the small battlefield around him, taking note of the dead Ice Shrieks; four of them, but they had scars on their bodies . . . that meant that they had more than likely encountered another Guildsperson. It could explain their relatively small pack size. Off in the distance Geron saw the gentle blue of his eye-cover, hurriedly walking over to it and retrieving it from the snow. Without hesitation, Geron wrapped it around his head and covered his right eye and the Mark along with it. He let out a sigh of relief as the sensation of Venkalos' magic pressing against him faded.


Geron then took a look at himself, and noticed no distinct injuries or wounds. However, the blood that had gotten on him earlier must have been crusted black and fallen off, for he could see no sign of the sickly fluid. He supposed that was a good thing . . . although something else worried him, much more than his physical appearance; what were Ice Shrieks doing so close to Schnee Palast? Why would any beast this near to human civilization? He had no answers, and that was what disturbed him most about this encounter. He was only two or three hours away from the regional capital, but they still should not have been here. Grimacing, Geron resolved to have this investigated when he arrived at the city. Leaving the corpses behind in the snow, the Wyrmslayer continued on his trek to the home of the Schnee Maidens.


As he had estimated, Geron arrived at the town after only two hours of walking. His cowl was on again to shield his face from the stinging wind, so the men on the city walls could not see his face. Geron observed the gates of Schnee Palast as he stalked down the poorly-paved road outside; they were closed, which was peculiar for this time of day, and there appeared to be more guards posted than usual. He took note of this as he stepped up to the iron-bound gates. A few guards gazed down at him curiously before one of them - the captain, Geron assumed - shouted from atop the bannisters. "Halt! Who approaches the gates of Schnee Palast?!" The warrior gave no response other than the removal of his cowl, revealing his rugged face to the guards above. A couple of them gasped and whispered frantically to the captain, whose eyes widened and Geron could overhear his choked response. "...th-the Wyrmslayer? Of course . . . I recognize him now." The captain nodded and leaned forward to get a better view before speaking with a touch of awe in his voice. "P-Pardon, Wyrmslayer. We were not expecting your arrival at this time, but . . . blast it, men! Open the gates for the Lancer Commander General! Hurry now!" The men saluted before following their captain's orders, manning the cranks as they raised the heavy iron gate. Giving an appreciative nod to the captain and then the men who operated the cranks, Geron passed through and into the streets of Schnee Palast.


It was not long before people began to acknowledge his presence, and word began to spread rapidly of his arrival. Geron had not taken two hundred steps before he was set upon by a throng of excited Palastans. Geron suppressed his annoyance as he tried to make his way through the crowd, gently moving people aside and giving brief nods of greeting to those who addressed him directly. Then came the young women . . . they were the worst, with their cursed screaming and reaching for him. Speaking of which, when he just brushed a young blonde girl aside, she shrieked and grasped the part of her arm where he had touched her. "HE TOUCHED ME! GERON TOUCHED ME!!!" Geron could only groan as he tried to ignore the mixed shouts of other fanatics. When enough space had finally appeared for him to make his way through, Geron hoped he could escape in time; but the most unexpected thing prevented him. From out of nowhere, a boy in a flamboyant red coat charged from the crowd at him with incredible swiftness, carrying a dull-red sword which was arching his way.


Geron's eye widened at the sight of the blade, recognizing it and twisted around to meet his assailant. When the boy was within reach, Geron turned his body at the last second so the sword would pass by him harmlessly before grasping the boy's wrist. Once he had a hold of him, Geron twisted the boy's arm and drew him in, turning him around and placing him in a restrictive hold with his arm wrapped around his neck and aiming the boy's sword to the sky. Keeping a firm grip on the young man, Geron frowned and spoke clearly to his attacker, capable of being heard above the frightened din of the townsfolk. "...Where did you get this sword, lad?" Geron inquired calmly, unsure as to what the answer may be.

 

[Haley]

Aisha watched in disgust as the two Thal'Blades members were so easily poisoned by something they had just been staring at happen. They literally watched in feared anticipation as Rak cut the meat with his infamous poisoned blades and then ate from the meat he cut from.


"Zift." (Idiot) she muttered as she watched them completely space out and Rak laughing like a crazed man the whole time as his own altered state set in.


Then the unexpected happened. Kakku, one lf the best Thal'Blades hunters, stood and walked up to Rak, challenging him. The entire feed hall was silent, even Aisha dared not utter a single word as the Zaft man pushed Rak back into his seat. You could have heard a needle drop in those moments where Rak and Kakku stared at each other, Kakku like he was going to kill him and soil himself at the same time and Rak as if it was the day of his birth. Aisha didnt know how to feel so she felt nothing. Both men were savage beasts in the ring and both cared for no one but themselves.


Hyak id-dunya, such is life out in the Scorchlands. It is either kill or be killed, lucky for any bloodthirsty warrior wondering the intense heated plains because killing was the highest form of pleasure around here, even higher then that of procreating to some. To others the two go hand in hand.


By now both men were standing and the rest of the hall were gathering around them to egg on the fight including, Bent il-hommar and Aisha.


Aisha found a spot between the two delirious men and pushed them aside. For a split second they believed they were being pushed by their fathers and immediately apologized for being in her way and moved slowly across the room away from her, as if they were attempting to walk on the foreign percipitation to them called snow.


The quiet young woman returned her attention back to the scene that was folding out in front of her and gripped her own sword tightly just in case their fight was to turn into an all out feed room brawl.

 

[Delta]

Alden Theodore Lochbuster- Currently about to be man-handled by the Wyrmslayer





As Alden -who had finally decided on a simple stab/kick/slash combo- started to close in on Geron, the boy started extending his sword in front of him as he began reaching for the hilt of his sheathed sword. Unfortunately, Alden wouldn't have the time to draw his dull-blue sword. As if Alden were moving in slow motion, the Wyrmslayer effortlessly side-stepped the boy before grabbing his wrist firmly, giving Alden just enough time to pray that he wouldn't be eating snowy stone here in the next fractions of a second. Instead, Alden was sparred a forced meal and was jumbled up like a human pretzel, the vice forcing him to rub the rough material of his sleeve on his throat.


"...Where did you get this sword, lad?" Geron spoke to him and him alone, and Alden did his best to take a gulp of air before he responded.


"This sword and the sheathed one come fr-" It was about that time that the crowd realized that the Wyrmslayer was rushed by none other than Alden Theodore Lochbuster, the Outcast of Schnee Palast, and he was cut off by their enraged and indignant shouting.


"Wyrmslayer, sir, don't touch that boy! You might contract warg-joint!"


"The boy is nothing but a menace- to attack the Lancer Commander General, he really is no better than a monster"


"I'd want to be dead if I had to put up with a demon like Alden!"


Alden honestly believed that if he were not intertwined with Geron Zanitas like two horribly-confused dancers, the villagers would not wait a second before stoning him to death right there in the plaza. Although he heard these insults ever since his father was presumed dead, and thus rarely leaving the Schnee Cathedral, the harsh words stabbed through his armor and punctured his very being. The sheer weight of their accusations caused Alden -who was otherwise a strong and positive person- to drop his head, shadowing his face and the tears that streamed down it, as the warm droplets followed the curves of his face before descending to his boots, leaving melted holes in the snow that lingered on his feet. He swallowed the lump that lingered painfully in his squeezed throat, digging his chin into his arm and wedging enough space for him to take a breath before speaking to the Wyrmslayer and the Wyrmslayer only.


"Everything else they say may be true, Geron, sir, but I'm not an orphan-" Alden had to swallow the lump again before speaking. "You asked me where I got this sword from, correct? Both this red one and its blue twin were entrusted to me by my father long before he mysteriously vanished." Alden was upset he couldn't turn to look Geron in the eye, to prove to the Lancer Commander General that he was indeed sorry for the attack. "Geron Zanitas, I come to you not for an autograph, but for your help. I, uh...I know that's probably even more to ask for, sir, but I must find my father. Baynard Lochbuster, Paladin Commander General of the Major Guild Alliance and my father, abandoned a lot of people when he disappeared, and I need to figure out why he did it. Again, I know this is a lot to ask of you, y'know...after attacking you and all; but I need your help to get stronger. To shine as bright as he told me I needed to be that day when he left, that's the only way I'll be able to light the path that leads to him."


Alden took a deep breath once the final hot tear dried up on his cold cheek, as he had just spewed out quite the mouthful. He stamped his boot on the stone, standing up as straight as he possibly could given the situation he had charged himself into, and instead of crying to the ground, he cocked his head upwards, staring at the crowd of enraged fan-villagers with confidence in this given situation that surely deemed him a mad man.


"Maybe what these people accuse me of is true; or maybe it's not. Either way, I owe the answers to these villagers as well, as my fathers disappearance affected their lives, too." With this, he gave the crowd an honest smile, flashing a warm and pearly grin that would soon become Alden's trademark. The townspeople, however, returned his promise and smile with scorning snarls and glares so cold that they could freeze the Scorching Plains. The boy couldn't quite explain why he didn't return the resentment he received on a daily basis, or why his desire to find his father- the only family he knew of that he had left in this world- was not a selfish desire to look for Baynard for himself... it's just that something in Alden's heart told him that these people were not entirely evil people, and that maybe the key to gaining their forgiveness lied in finding his father. Alden didn't expect any other reaction, and chuckled lightly before lowering his head; a sign that he was speaking as directly as he could to the Wyrmslayer. "I know you don't owe anyone any service of yours, but...but..." Alden started to trail off before he found a handful of words somewhere in his heart. "...Please, Geron. I need you."


Master Arms-Maiden/Pirate Queen Bonnie Bazooka- Searching for Pandora Belleville.


As Master Arms-Maiden of the Galleon Guild, it was Bonnie Bazooka's duty to do the paper work required to keep the Guildmembers from turning into loitering beachcombers; such as looking through contracts that were fit to put on the mission board, disturbance reports and other complaints from civilians (which pretty much seemed to be a problem exclusively for the pirates of the Galleon Guild), and things of that nature. The Pirate Queen did so diligently and happily, as fewer things in life pleased the woman more than to know she was able to keep her loyal sea-dogs in work, which everyone benefited from like a circle- The pirates got to sleep peacefully as they were rocked once more out at sea, and the noble civilians got to sleep peacefully as the foundations of their homes weren't rocked by the noisy pirates. As the Master Arms-Maiden Bonnie Bazooka kept working and working, it was not uncommon for her to do so devoid of any human emotions, as if Bonnie was replaced by Bonnie 2.0 instead. However, the Pirate Queen found something very interesting among the Guild fees record books.


Bonnie often became tired while working, being lulled to slumber by the gentle rocking of The Rainmaker and the tolling of the many bells along Fendor's Royal Port, the Pirate Queen cocked an elbow over the large tomes she worked out of and rested her head sideways, trying her absolute best to read from such a difficult angle. Doing so became increasingly difficult as the next words inched closer and closer to her nose, and as her eyes began to cross in desperation of the following information, she read something that made her head shoot up faster than the musty old smell of the yellowed-pages ever could. Her aging blue and green messenger parrot, Polly Rogers, was dozed off while perched on a stack of miscellaneous books that Master Arms-Knight Doctor Excavation kept insisting she read after every Major Guild meeting. Polly Rogers, during the first hour or so of Bonnie's work, delighted his cheeky-self in correcting any words the Pirate Queen had mispronounced whilst reading aloud. When Bonnie Bazooka jolted upward, the messenger parrot squawked in exclamation as he himself jolted upward as well, and squinted his eyes at the woman for the false alarm, pushing off the books to flap near Bonnie's head, pecking her cranium and flapping out of the captain's cabin (known as the Queen's Cabin) while squawking in mischievous laughter.


Bonnie Bazooka, despite having the sudden urge to bend over the chair and shoot her damned parrot with a flintlock pistol she kept tucked away in one of her drawers, smiled at the half-ink splotched entry before her. It stated that a certain Captain Pandora Belleville (and her crew, whose name was illiterately smeared in ink splotches) owed quite a large debt to numerous shops along the Royal Port, and Bonnie would take this as the perfect opportunity to get back out at sea. She jumped out of her wooden chair like an ecstatic child, rushing to her large wardrobe in search of her usual pirate gear, digging through her closet as Polly Rogers flew back in and landed on top of her ornate full-body mirror. Her outfit consisted of; a normal white silk blouse, a black and gold Captain's coat that she left unbuttoned, black leggings and steel-toed boots perfect for busting in the kneecaps of any drunken pirate that stepped out of line. Bonnie grabbed her black and gold tricorn hat, adjusting it on her as she stood in front of the mirror.


"Well P. Rogers, what do ye think of me get-up, old friend?" She asked, not really knowing what the senile bird would say.


"Squawk! Your cleavage is out of control! Squaaaawk!" The bird cried, flapping his wings rapidly to keep himself from falling off the mirror.


Bonnie bit her bottom lip teasingly. "My my, Polly Rogers, you sure know to make an ageless Pirate Queen blush~!" she cooed, winking at herself in the mirror as she had adjusted her hat perfectly, following the brim of her hat with her thumb and pointer finger.


"Squawk! It's no wonder Chevasto doesn't visit anymore! Squaaaawk!"


This caused Bonnie to bite down hard on her lip in surprise, the pressure had cut her beautiful lips and blood trickled into her mouth, the Pirate Queen grimaced at the metallic taste. "H-hey you stupid scurvy bird, t-that's not it!" She stammered, her face turning as red as a market tomato. Bonnie grabbed at the bird, which lost his balance at the perfect time, falling down the back of large mirror as Lady Bazooka reached up to strangle Polly Rogers, the bird having now flapped out the door squawking in laughter. Bonnie muttered something about her love not visiting because of something completely rational, which wasn't entirely true and she knew it.


As she walked off of the Rainmaker, the largest galleon in all of the Port City as well as her beloved and treasured baby, waving to any of her crew that wished the Captain to be safe, Bonnie took in a big gulp of port air, never knowing a taste quite as sweet and rewarding. While walking, she placed her left hand on the pommel of her trusty pirate sword Fate Swab, tracing her finger along the many intricate patterns that decorated its golden-colored handguard. Despite being truly at home on the Rainmaker, Bonnie felt unbelievably happy by something as minute and insignificant as the clicking sound her steel-toed boots made as she jubilantly strolled down the stone pathway. Normally, people might view this behavior as odd or childish, but no one was willing to receive the harshest ass-beating of their lives to inform the Master Arms-Maiden that she was acting a tad bit on the immature side; the pirate who teamed up with Geron Zanitas to take out a Hydra and survived both the beast and its horrid smell could do damn-near anything she pleased. Bonnie Bazooka began studying the faces of all those she passed, which weren't very many people, as this particular district was relatively barren at this time of day.


The only lead she could muster from her crew was that Captain Belleville had a mild obsession with jewelry, and one of Bonnie's crewmembers- who was three sheets to the wind off of rum- noted that the Pirate Queen just needed to look for the woman whose neck and wrists shimmered like a glittering rainbow having a seizure. Bonnie let loose a sigh of impressed disappointment as the drunken powder monkey's alcohol-influenced description actually worked. The Captain seemed to be enjoying a stroll she was taking, accompanied by a bottle of booze. Surprisingly, Bonnie didn't drink that much; what's even more surprising is that she could out-drink ten men who've dedicated their lives to drinking on any of the rare occasions she did decide to consume alcohol. The Master Arms-Maiden had to squint the closer she got to the Captain Belleville, and eventually she had to shield her eyes from the damned shining jewelry.


"Captain Pandora Belleville?" Bonnie asked, finally building up a resistance to the shimmering and no longer needing to shield her eyes as desperately as Lady Bazooka during shower day for her crew of roughly 80 men. "Ahoy matey! I'm Master Arms-Maiden Bonnie Bazooka, and you, little lassie, have been volunteered to help me and my crew aboard the Rainmaker on my next monster-hunting contract! Don't worry, lass, as in doing so you'll be paying off all your debts owed to the local shops. What say ye, Captain Belleville?" The Pirate Queen gave Captain Belleville a pearly smile, its shimmer rivaling Pandora's brightest jewelry as Bonnie radiated her excitement to be going out to sea once more.

 

[Cream Martinez]

"Is this really necessary, Master? What does this action facilitate but our untimely deaths if we slip and fall from this height?"


"Oh, Llanelli, would I have taken you under my wing if I were so unsure of my own foothold? Girl, I've trained you for all these years, surely you'd be good enough to, oh, I don't know, not slip and fall like an oaf of a Scrub." Warren cuffed Llanelli on the ear, to which she winced, and rubbed her now burning lobe. "This vantage point provides us with an excellent view of what transpires below. And what transpires below is nothing short of an epic waiting to be written by the victor. Watch and learn from the best, dear girl."


"As you wish, Master." The girl held onto her loose scabbard and crouched down on her perch and watched. "Would you kindly elaborate to me as to what goes on below? Tis naught but two gentlemen comparing sizes of their blades."


"Fool child! Look again!" Warren cuffed her ear again, and she winced. "That there is none other than the Lance General Geron himself! And the other is our dear Alden. Pah, one an accursed soul, while the other loved by many and also despised by the same number."


"Poetic, master."


"Is that sarcasm I hear, girl?"


"It was my intention, yes. You may disregard it if you wish. You heard naught."


Warren's face turned red, then purple, as he held his breath and wondered on what to do with the child. After a moment, he gave a hiss as he exhaled and flicked her earlobe. "Ye gods, girl. Had you not reminded myself of me, I'd be asking for a closed casket funeral for you right about now."


That didn't seem like a compliment to Llanelli, who did nothing more but roll her eyes and continued to watch from the ledge. So much for learning from the best. The Alden person, whoever he was, got himself crushed in one single move by this Geron person, whoever he was, and was in his mercy in just mere seconds. Huh. She could learn much more from training dummies and weeding the garden. This sordid display was quite upsetting, to be honest.


"Can I boo them?"


"No." Warren didn't seem very happy either, and was scowling as if he had found a fly in his soup. "If it helps, you can do so in your head."


Llanelli did so in her head.

 

[UnholyRedemption]

She took another large swig of her precious liquid, her eyes focused ahead of her as she took in the scent of the ocean. She often wished she could live there permanently but she had to dock for supplies occasionally and it led to her being involved fights or gambling. Well, she didn't mind the gambling. Her lips parted as she leaned fowards, looking at the ground for a moment. "Damn I'm bored..." She whined under her breath, swinging the bottle along with her steps.


Pandora eventually faced a dead end. A groan passed her lips as she stared at the wall with a pout before she spun upon her knee high boots to walk in the opposite direction, her eyes narrowed in anger. "Why is there a stupid wall there.." She whispered, folding her arms childishly upon her torso before she was stopped, some else's voice grasping the little attention that the lady pirate had to offer. "Captain Pandora Belleville?" Pandora looked over at the woman, curious to who she was but that curiousity was forgetten when the lady introduced herself.


"Ahoy matey! I'm Master Arms-Maiden Bonnie Bazooka, and you, little lassie, have been volunteered to help me and my crew aboard the Rainmaker on my next monster-hunting contract! Don't worry, lass, as in doing so you'll be paying off all your debts owed to the local shops. What say ye, Captain Belleville?"


After a few seconds, it was clear that Pandora was completely unresponsive to the woman's question, her attention on but she made no movement and said no word as she indulged within her near rapid thoughts. 'She's joking right? I have no de- ...Oh...That was what I forgot.' She tilted her head, her arms loose at her side as she raised a brow, already turning to continue walking back to her ship. "I'm not Pandora, nor do I have a clue what you are talking about miss Bonnie." She replied, having already passed the woman by now.





'Psch! as if I would be swayed by the promise of clearing all my debts by these ...local....shops....' Pandora paused in her steps, spinning around quickly to look at her as the jewelry that clung to her skin rattled against one another, raven locks now a mess from the sudden movements. Her cautious posture changed as a toothy grin appeared upon her pale pink lips, her body leaning forwards as she set her hands upon her hips. "All my debts in this town?" She asked, her head tilted curiously as she awaited the answer. "If what I heard was correct then I am Pandora Belleville. If not, then..." She trailed off, glancing around at the mass of citizens before pointing to a random one. "Then that is Pandora Belleville." Yes, Pandora had the occasional periods of stupidity but it just made the woman grin with amusement.

 

[Kiro Akira]

Renshii Akahero- Dream world then the Canyons of Eternal Stone


"Ok, I want all of you to stay calm and each of you follow Squad Formation Beta. Jin, you take far left. Ria, take Mid-left. And To-To, I want you to hit far right. I'll take the Mid-Right." Renshii smiled to the squad and turned as he began the formation heading towards the group of cave spiders just ahead. He was ready to finish this mission and get out of there. Cave spiders were not his fancy but they were on a mission to clear them.


Renshii halted the group as he pulled out his pistol peeking around the corner that lead to another cave system. One, Two, Three... "Ok, everyone. Keep formation theres only three of th-" Before he could get his words out a voice echoed through the cave. "Only Three?!!? I can handle this myself!" A young boy darted from around the corner and threw a grenade towards the small group. The small grenade rolled just beneath one of the larger spiders and exploded causing an echoe through the cave. The explosion being to small to bring any parts of the cave down until a few moments later. Just as the grenade exploded, a fourth cave spider dropped from the ceiling it's long pointy arms/legs grasping the boy two of the legs piercing his body so he couldn't escape. "To-To!" Renshii shouted as the cave rumbled and a few pieces of the ceiling dropped.


Renshii quickly looked around then down one of the paths seeing a small glisten of flames igniting burning the smaller cave spider. A bigger one would step out to retrieve the meal of the boy and spider. Renshii's eyes widened as he spun around and pushed the final two members of his group back and towards where they once came. More of the cave had dropped behind them as he pushed the group more sprinting towards another path. "Get out of here now!" He shouted and continued running. Why couldn't he just listen... They could have cleared the small batch and escaped without a single scratch but no.


As the three reached the exit Renshii spun and pointed to the entrance. "Silver, light it up. I was to make sure nothing can follow us out here and back to the town." The small dragon that had awaited at the entrance of the cave took a deep breathe and began breathing a large amount of icey like particals at the entrance. They were down quite far and away from the sun stopping the ice from melting for a short time. Panting heavily, Renshii looked to the group staring at them his eyes grew soft as he shook his head. "Now you see what happens when you do not follow orders." He spoke before looking towards the path leading back to Jade Town. "The guild won't be to happy for this amount of news." He would then look back to the ice dragon as it finished up the wall of ice. Picking up the dragon, he began heading back to the town being cautious and searching the areas thinking one of the dragon spiders would follow him out and to the town.


As they headed up the path towards the town a section of the path exploded and flames shot out of the wall A set of legs could be seen as one of the larger spiders escaped through the large hole that had just been made it's eyes staring to the group of three.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Renshii sat up quickly gasping for air as he began panting heavily. "Not again..." He spoke softly grasping his chest trying to relax. He then glanced around the room jumping as a silver head nudged his side and under his arm. Smiling softly, Renshii reached down and petting the dragon. "Good morning Silver, I'm fine. It was just the dream of the mission again." He said and laid back staring up to the ceiling. "Don't worry about me ok? I'll be fine in about twenty minutes."


Renshii's eyes closed once more as he sighed softly taking slow and deep breathes trying to relax his body. He hated that dream and it always made that day horrible. Sighing softly, he stood up and moved towards the exit of the cave sheilding his eyes as the sun reached the entrance. After he adjusted to the light he stared out into the edge of the scorching desert. Renshii then exited the cave heading up a small pathway that had led towards the Canyoons and town of Platim. "Silver, stay I'll be back soon."


Upon traveling down the pathway he was on he passed Platim and continued heading towards his old home, Jade-Town. As he followed the path through he stopped seeing a young man 'trot' down the path and to the town itself. Smirking softly, Renshii laughed and pulled the rifle from his back adjusting the scope he had created and placed upon it only to fire off a round towards the boy. The bullet was aimed at his arm but it the scope being off had caused it to strike one of the canyons walls and bounce onto the ground. He then laughed and quickly hid behind one of the boulders he was near and peaked around the corner seeing the mans reaction.

​

 

[EliCarter]

~Rynn Brauchvich; Schnee Palast, with Alden and Geron~





Rynn's rapid approach toward what she assumed was going to be a bloody scene abruptly halted when she saw Alden swiftly, and surprisingly painlessly, become subdued. She slowed to a casual walk, narrowing her eyes as she watched the scene in front of her unfold, it only took one stupid shit to say something before the entire crowd joined in. It was ridiculous and terrifying.. what had it been called? Mob mentality? The horror only increased as she watched her friend, normally so cheery and optimistic completely breakdown. Horror shifted into anger, burning the pit of her stomach as she continued her steady bull-rush towards him.


"The boy is nothing but a menace- to attack the Lancer Commander General, he really is no better than a monster"


That particular comment was what pushed her a little too far, her stance widened, and in one smooth movement she had jabbed her shoulder upwards into the crook of the commentator's armpit/side, who happened to be a sturdy man of about 40, and with a violent jerk of her arm against his torso and twist of his torso he was sent sprawling onto the snowy stone floor. She paused for a moment to sneer at him,


"That's my friend you're talking about, and let me remind you that you don't know shit about him," she snapped, viciously pushing her way through the rest of the crowd before reaching Alden, he had now stopped crying and was putting on a brave front to talk to Geron, who was becoming increasingly less badass in her eyes as he allowed this to continue. She shifted on her heel, now facing the crowd, fixing them all with a glare.


"Is that any way to talk to a member of the Guild? His rank doesn't matter, but he volunteered his life in order to protect yours! And here you are, relying on rumors and wonky information to berate him? That's some shit and it ends now, unless you want to continue being disrespectful little idgets, which I do NOT SUGGEST!" she yelled, letting out a 'tch' of irritation before turning back to Alden and the Wyrmslayer, bowing slightly in respect before righting herself and slinging both bags of loot over her shoulder.


"H'llo Mr. Zanitas, good day to you," she said, before squinting at Alden, "You don't owe them anything," she said, rolling her eyes slightly and holding out his bag, which had thoughtfully handed to her before sprinting ahead in his testosterone fueled attack, "And this is yours..."

 

[killerlung]

-Rak, Thal'Blades Feasting Hall-

​

With a single outraged roar it began, the massive bear of a man, Kakku charged, fists at the ready. While Rak stood, sipping his Savvka juice nonchalantly. He took one more sip, though he paused for a moment noticing a hair in his mug.


He brought his fingers to the edge of the wide mouthed mug, in an effort to remove the hair, though it kept sliding away from him. His eye twitched, why wouldn't the hair sit still!? He thought before he wondered, what that giant ominous roar and those thunderous footsteps were. Rak glanced up from his distraction just in time to catch Kakku's fist in his jaw.


The blow sent Rak off his feet, and flying back into the crowds behind him. He collided with the men behind him with a resounding crash, the men whom he hit toppled to the ground, while Rak had somehow regained his footing.


Rak's vision suddenly focused, the man he had once seen as a giant meatbug now appeared before him as he was. The poison in his system was starting to wear thin as his adrenaline was released, what a shame, he thought to himself before the very distracting taste of iron in his mouth pulled him back into the moment.


Rak fished in his mouth with his tongue, before spitting out a tooth. One of his fourth row molars if he wasn't mistaken, Rak smiled. His teeth bloody, his mouth filled with the taste of his own life blood. That savage look now devolved to something more, something more crazed, more primal and pure. Rak laughed, blood escaping his lips as he laughed and laughed at Kakku.


The massive man responded as any massive beast would, by charging immediately with another round of carnage. Though this time the beast would be terribly rewarded for its efforts.


Rak swayed, like a desert viper, he waited, waited until his prey reached his strike zone. As Kakku appeared before Rak, he threw three quick and heavy jabs at the swaying maniac. Obviously though Kakku had mistook Rak's swaying as a sign of weakness, a result of his first jab or else the poisons he so enjoyed. Though Rak's swaying held terrible consequences, he dodged each jab fluidly, bobbing and weaving in a way that somehow seemed coordinated despite his sway. His eyes narrowed as the last mighty punch struck the thin air, in a split second the desert viper struck.


Though his venom was gone, his fangs were still sharp as ever, and the desert demon soon made that abundantly clear, as he himself moved forward into the man with a startling burst of speed. His movements were now deliberate and focused, and he proved it as he crouched down low, dodging another fist and leaped onto Kakku's chest, wrapping his legs around the man's torso and grabbing his arms tightly around the man's neck.


Rak then struck as he brought his head close to Kakku's, whispering in the man's ear a mere second before he maimed the man. "Bu Cocugan adi Rak (This child's name is Rak)" then it came, the sweet taste of another's blood filled Rak's mouth as he bit Kakku's ear, shearing the flesh from the man's skull, and relishing in every second of it.


Kakku screamed out in unimaginable horror, what was this beast!? The pain that quaked throughout his body, the synapses in his brain overloaded from the input. The nerve bundles that conveyed hearing were severed, ruptured and firing in such an intensity the man's vision started to blur. The man screamed, and flailed around in hopes to free himself from Rak's embrace.


A few short flung punches crashed into Rak's ribs, as the man flailed and ran about, trying to free himself. Rak relished in the struggle, he smiled, his white teeth stained with a cocktail of Kakku's blood and his own.


Rak grinned, bringing his arms around Kakku's skull he smelled the air, relishing in the taste of blood and the scent of desperation. Then it was over, with a loud CRACK, Rak unceremoniously tugged and twisted the man's head off its axis, snapping the man's neck and tearing the ligaments and sinew that held it in place.


Rak released his grip, falling off the man as Kakku's knees went limp and he fell backwards into the dirt. Rak smiled, spitting Kakku's severed ear into the ground as he looked toward the roaring crowd that now hushed.


Rak glanced down, seeing the blood that stained his chest, the trail of blood from his mouth leaked onto the ground as he was reminded of his current circumstance. He was after all without pants, he sighed, approaching Kakku's lifeless corpse he went to remove the man's dried leather pants. Though he quickly stopped, sniffing at the air for a moment he found that Kakku the Powerful, had soiled himself in his last moments. Of course, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and sighing in frustration.


Rak calmly walked back to his table, grabbing his blades he pointed with them to one of the onlookers. "You..pants now" he muttered coldly.


The man shivered, having been threatened by Rak, and by his blades no less. The man quickly disrobed, and threw his pants to Rak. Whom laid down his blades, and picked up the fur lined and leather bound garments.


He sniffed at the air again, once again soiled. "Zift" he muttered, to which the man immediately fled. Running swiftly away from the scene to avoid being slaughtered. Rak sighed, glancing back toward the crowd, he spotted Aisha. "You" he said coldly, in a voice that hushed the bantering chatter, and bloodthirsty calls of the feasting hall. "Come with me" he said as he tossed his right handed blade into the air, and subsequently caught it with his left hand.


He now carried both blades in his left, and reached for another half-full mug of Savvka juice with his right. How this mug had survived the skirmish was beyond him. He sighed and walked away, dragging his blades in the sand with his left hand, and gulping down the Savvka juice with his right. The taste of blood and Savvka juice went down just right, quenching his thirst as he drank and drank. The juice dripped down his chest, and he paused for a moment. Crouching down to pick up his fallen tooth, before continuing.


He'd have a healer put it back into place eventually, though for now he'd enjoy the taste of iron that filled his mouth. The taste of his own blood, a rare delicacy for the demon of the desert....

 

[Azukai]

-Jayne, the Muse of Life: Schnee Palast, Outer District-




​

The frigid temperament of Schnee Palast chilled Jayne to his bones as he trekked through the blizzard that raged along the thin streets; the snowy winds trapped between the tall walls of the houses, creating a vortex of ice that made the gloom of the Outer District's poverty seem all the more depressing. Dressed in only a thin overcoat covering a set of a loosely flowing cloth shirt and pant, Jayne shivered as each breath of wind passed through him, threatening to offset his forward set path, as the long wooden flute upon his back, SangHwalga, swayed dangerously from side to side.


A miserable place, Jayne grumbled to himself, pausing to sigh while gazing at the blinding white above before continuing his trek that lasted what seemed to be hours in the current weather. Jayne's destination was within a small circular plaza that housed several larger buildings along its circumference, one in particular being a certain house that stood out amongst the surrounding poverty with a gleam of wealth that was much unlike the decrepit buildings nearby. Storming up polished marble stairs, Jayne, without a knock, swung open the door to the house where he was instantly ambushed by many small figures knocking him over onto the soft snow beneath while the sounds of their screams and shrieks blended with the raging wind outside, creating a horrifying shrill that resembled that of a monster's screech echoing around his mysteriously smiling face.


"Let the poor ol' boy be, kids!" A motherly voice as warm as the heat within called toward the pile of kids and Jayne now wrestling in the snow causing a melted pool of water to form at the base of the doorway. With a unified yes from the kids, they quickly stormed back into the house and faded into the background, Jayne rose from the ground and nodded in appreciation as the source of the voice gentle removed his overcoat, hanging it on a nearby rack to allow it to dry.


"This place is brutal, Elize. The thin streets create a small blizzard out there even though our weather is perfectly fine," Jayne commented with a sigh as the woman named Elize turned around,walked up to him, and lightly flicked his forehead in a teasing response before replying. " I no longer have the luxuries of the Maidens as you do Jayne, and I am perfectly comfortable in the outer district. This orphanage is a beacon of hope for the poorer citizens, and it would crush them if I moved away."


"Besides no one ever said you had to make your dangerous trek to the outer district every other day," she added with a laugh before disappearing into a room on the side where the clatter of pots and pans soon echoed throughout the house.


Jayne silently watched as Elize left, pondering the words she had said, but his train of thought was quickly interrupted by two small children grabbing each of his hands and tugging him toward the living room, where the rest of the children that had ambushed him earlier were sitting around the fireplace, staring at Jayne with a smile on their face and anticipation in their eyes. Closing his eyes for a moment, Jayne shook his head once before giving way to the children's tugs as they led him into the center of the group, where Jayne removed SangHwalga from his back and sat down with his over sized flute laying again his lap. Reaching into his pocket, Jayne pulled out several small wooden figures that were carved to resemble unique variations of the non aggressive wildlife that existed within the world. After placing the wooden figures in a circle around him, Jayne brought Sanghwalga to his lips and began to play a chord from Gangsang, the Rebirth Chord. The music from Gangsang manifested itself in a physical form, as wisps of color began to form and circle around the children who watched the show in awe. Eventually the wisps of color focused onto a wooden figure and began to manifest into its physical form, consuming the figure in the process and captivated the interest of the children to began to play with their new furry friends.

Spoiler

[media]

[/media]
It was several hours later that Jayne departed from the orphanage with a small bow to bid his farewell to Elize and the children, Jayne once again began his trek trough the blizzard ridden streets with the warm halls of the Schnee Maidens as a new destination. Similar to the journey to, the return was no different, being uneventful and cold; however, as Jayne began to approach the main road that would lead farther into the districts, he was able to make out the sounds of commotion. As he erupted from a back alley onto the main road near the gates, Jayne instantly noticed out the figure of Geron who stood out amongst the poorer citizens that were madly praising the famous lancer.Although his curiosity was piqued, when Geron suddenly placed a boy in a restrictive hold, however, Jayne decided to trek forward not wanting to become involved with Geron. Although he held respect for general of the Lancers, Jayne did not wish to become involved in the battles that sticking around would inevitably lead to.


Lightly pushing citizens aside, Jayne ignored their protests as he continued forward thankful his fame was non-existent and did not draw large crowds such as this one. As he approached the gate that divided the Outer and Inner district, Jayne was stopped by one of the guards who mockingly shouted upon sight, " Halt! What reason does a woman from the slums have to enter the Inner District?"


Though fame has its perks, Jayne thought to himself with a sigh while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a new wooden figure that had not been used earlier. Whistling the necessary chord, Jayne through the figure onto the ground where the figure of a woman manifested in a similar fashion as before. The woman-like spirit was minimally clothed, her bare breasts open to the wind, and only a thin layer of cloth covering her lower midriff. The guard who had mocked Jayne earlier, immediately turned his attention to the manifestation, and noticeable blush coming to his face as he turned it away from embarrassment. "What reason does a noble guard of Schnee Palast have to hold such embarrassment upon the view of a spirit," Jayne replied with a feminine tone and a chuckle as the spirit dissolved into a mist and dispersed into the wind. The guard's face quickly developed a deeper shade of red, and words of protest began to come from his mouth; however, he was interrupted by the gate's captain calling from above, "Open the gate! It is Jayne, a Knight of the Maidens."


After giving the dumbfounded guard a wink, Jayne entered the Inner District, and continued his journey back to the guild hall in hopes that the final gate would not pose such annoyances.

 

[Heartsteal]

Green tinted lanterns illuminated a small, quiet city. There was no cacophony of human speech, no, the sound of hammers striking metal was what echoed through Platin, the underground guild-city.


To Anja, the sound of those hammers was her lullaby, it always had been, much more than any of the songs that children had grown so accustomed to before they slept.


The newest Second Quartermaster, it had a nice ring to it, a ring that Anja quite liked, enough of a mouthful to make people feel awkward when they say it, and important enough that they were supposed to. Just thinking about her rank made the young woman giggle childishly, like a ten year old trying desperately to keep a secret.


While leaving Platin wasn't what Anja was looking forward to, complete access to all of the shops, and the ability to present her blueprints directly to the Head Quartermaster was. The prodigal girl had just said her goodbyes, though she'd been unable to contain her tears any longer than it took her to step outside. Irma, Anja's mother, had been extremely distressed to hear the news of her Errant test, the poor woman's husband had died several years ago in much the same way, leaving her to raise their daughter alone.


While at least Anja would be going along with veteran guilders, and should be in no real danger, both mother and daughter were still terrified by the idea, neither had left Platin before, nor had they planned to could they avoid it. Agoraphobia seemed to be hereditary as both of the pair suffered direly of it, though living in Platin mostly kept that subdued.


Walking through the dimly lit streets, Anja rubbed at her still reddened and weeping eyes, glad for the deserted nature the streets were usually in, she didn't like people seeing her cry. Eventually approaching the tram station, and the tunnel thereafter, a place she'd visited frequently enough, though never used. The craftswoman's father had been through here frequently, he'd always taken the tram out to Jadetown before he went on guild business, at least until the time he didn't come back some twenty years ago.


Getting herself under control, Anja put on her usual cheery smile before veritably skipping up to the station. The conductor gave her a once-over before recognizing who was approaching. Guilders ran the trams, along with many other of the technological marvels in the Canyon, so it was no surprise that she was recognized quite quickly. While sometimes it was strange being among the five most famous guilders in the area, sometimes it got Anja a good laugh. These three, journeymen in the crafters' division, were quite competent, but it didn't really matter how good they were, when one of the upper echelon crafters came through, there was always something to be fixed. This was the first time that Errant Second Quartermaster Anja had used the trams though, and it left the trio more nervous than they probably should have been. What these three should have been worried about, was the modifications she would make without authorization, and their repercussions on them.


"Ma'am!" the first of the three snapped out, standing to attention and saluting, just ahead of the other two.


"Sirs," Anja said with mock authority as she briefly saluted them, obviously a thinly veiled impersonation of the Head Quartermaster, the serious bearded man that was her only direct superior, and while she mocked him on occasion, also her idol.


A smile briefly passed over the young men's faces as they struggled to contain their amusement, though Anja supposed that they were probably no younger than she was, actually, at least one of them was certainly older than her. A momentary inspection lead to an upgrade which took just under an hour, leaving the journeymen scratching their heads. Without compromising the functionality or integrity of the station mechanism, Anja had simplified maintenance of the device; one hour's work permanently shaving four hours off of future maintenance checks or repairs.


The entire time, as short as it was, the authority of Anja's position was palpable in the air, casually ordering the conductors about, having them hold things in place or fetch her tools. Now, stepping back from her latest work, Anja, smeared in grease and dust, her fine blonde hair stained black in large splotches, regained her sunny disposition, acting once again the girl at least four years younger than any of the men here. In stunned silence, the men finished packing away the tools, and worried over their superior's appearance, now completely ruined, for her meeting with what would soon be her escort, after all, they would likely be held responsible if things went badly and she was rejected, after all, it was another guild fronting their services, they weren't there to cart around just any old hammer-bat.


Putting a finger to her upturned lips, Anja meant for the trio to keep quiet about what they'd done, but they took it as a queue to shut their mouths and worry about more important things than the way she looked.


Stepping onto the tram, Errant Second Quartermaster Anja Dagmar turned back to look at the station operating trio.


"These upgrades; a secret between us, 'kay?" she asked, as if she'd just shared a juicy bit of gossip. Well, among the crafters' division it would be quite the topic of discussion, but if it weren't for what she'd just done, and the grease still smeared across her otherwise immaculate armour, over her pale white skin and through her ashen-blonde hair, they probably wouldn't have believed she'd just said it, she simply didn't look the part of her position in the slightest.

 

[Don Valence]

~Cailet Ti'bashar Saffren, the Schnee Cathedral~




​

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."





"Is that a jest, daughter? I have no time for foolish games . . . so you should prepare yourself for what I have to say."





"Of course, Father, forgive me. I simply could not resist the temptation. I am listening." Cailet spoke quietly to the crystalline blue orb on the pedestal before her, leaning back in the her simply-crafted wooden chair as she relaxed - as much as she could, anyway - in the hard furniture. Oh, how she despised this place compared to her own dormitory at the Schnee Maiden Guild Hall . . . but coming here was a necessity, for there would be no other Mages who would be able to break through her illusionary protections here. Anyone other than an experienced illusionist that entered this small audience room would be detected and have their senses altered to suit her due to the defensive Ward she had placed; if they were to look in here, they would not be able to see or hear her. It was a useful tool, she had to admit, and took very little strength to create and maintain.


Cailet herself was dressed in a luxurious silver gown that trailed down to her ankles in a shimmering flow, which also bore crimson lacing at the collar and the cuffs of the gentle silk cloth. Her feet were covered by a pair of glistening scarlet heels, and her thin white socks extended from her toes to her knee. The rubies in her golden-blonde hair swayed slightly from her movements, their sparkling forms only enhancing the sheen of her pale skin and the light behind her bright-blue eyes. On her right hand was the enchanted white glove with which she performed most of her magic, its bone-white color contrasting to the blackened eye at the center of her palm. Cailet gently stroked the glove's smooth surface, taking comfort in its existence on her person . . . she never went anywhere without it. It was not as though she needed the conduit, but it gave her much more precise control over her magic. Her eyes stared into the depths of the crystal orb to see a man clothed in the regal black-and-blue uniform of the Vice Governor General of the Major Guild Alliance; a man who everyone knew to be Chevasto Amadae Saffren . . . but she knew him as her patron. So when it came time for him to speak through the Transmition Sphere, Cailet gave him her full attention.





"My sources say that the Lancer Commander General will arrive in Schnee Palast today, but I have yet to determine the reason for his visit. I find it peculiar, however, that he decides to show his face at this time . . . he has been out of view for several months. I feared that old Zanitas had finally perished. Ah, but I give him very little credit; after all, his reputation is well-earned."





"He is certainly not the most graceful of fighters . . . but his ferocity is astounding, and his precision is almost perfect. Difficult to imagine that the old man did not excel in such things when he was young; he makes it appear so natural."





"Yes, difficult to imagine. Now, Cailet, I want you to continue with your plans. Just because the Wyrmslayer is there does not mean it is time to stall . . . of course, I am certain you can handle it if he were to cause any predicaments. You know our priority, my dear; do not fail me. Do not fail us."


"As you command, Father. I will report again in a week." With that, Cailet ended the spell that powered the Transmition Sphere and picked the device up. After depositing it in her black leather satchel, Cailet made her way out of the dimly-lit, empty storage room and into one of the Cathedral's rear hallways. The only sound that reached her ears was that of her own footsteps, their gentle echoing hardly worth notice. Now with her report to her father over, Cailet could continue with her daily routine; it was almost time for dinner, so perhaps she would have the young Scrub assigned to her make a warm stew or soup . . . the cold of this region could get to the most resilient of women, and Cailet was in the mood for a meal anyway. Afterwards, she would visit the mission board and review some of the newest jobs that came in; perhaps she would find one for herself. A short time away from Schnee Palast would be an excellent relief. When Cailet emerged from the hall and into the main chamber of the Cathedral, she found one of the priests standing near one of the benches and staring right at her.





"...Ah, Miss Saffren. Did you come for a late-day prayer?" The elderly priest inquired with a rasp in his throat; he was of an exceptional age. Almost ninety, if appearances were anything to go by. Cailet greeted him with a gentle smile and nodded.





"Yes, Father Morise . . . I felt it was justified after the unfortunate death of Page Chanley. The poor boy, he had such potential." Cailet murmured sorrowfully in response to the priest's inquisition and allowing the smile to slip from her elegant face. In truth, Cailet felt no pity or sadness for the demise of the foolish child; to her, he was just one more weakling culled from the world. However, it was not like the priest could detect the lie behind her words . . . she was a marvelous actor, after all. She had to be, in her line of work.


Father Morise studied her with that pair of ancient brown eyes of his, but he made no movement but the twitching of his withered lips as he spoke. "The rear halls are an odd place to pray, Miss Saffren. But every person has their own beliefs. Be safe, my young Guild Maiden." With that, the old man turned away from her in his dusty brown robes and went on his way through the very hall she had just exited. Cailet managed to keep herself calm and collected, but inside she broiled. That insufferable aged coot! When she was in power, he would be one of the first people she removed . . . and this Cathedral would be torn to the ground. Brushing a few stray strands of golden hair from her face, Cailet huffed and stalked away from the benches and toward one of the double door entrances in the front. Now she was in a foul mood . . . if that Scrub did not cook the meal properly this time, she would receive quite the punishment. The thought of hearing the brat's agonized screams caused a feeling of excitement to swell up inside her; she almost wished the boy would make a mistake, for she would certainly be looking for one. Cailet emerged out into the thin sunlight of the outside world from the Cathedral, and made her way down the steps and in the direction of the Guild Hall with her normal false smile on display for those passing by.

~Chevasto Amadae Saffren, the Saffren Manor in Fendor~




​

The Weaver sat back in his polished bronze throne in quiet contemplation as the communcations with her daughter, his winter-gray eyes narrowed to slits as he tapped the fingers of his right hand against the arm of the throne. Cailet was supposedly advancing her efforts further and further with every passing day, but there was no possibility that Chevasto could discover how far along those plans were . . . she had covered her tracks well, and not even his best agents could dig up any information. Despite the agitation he felt towards his only daughter, his pride in her far exceeded his annoyance. She was turning into fine specimen indeed . . . and becoming more and more like her mother every day. Chevasto ceased the tapping of his fingers and raised his right hand, making a wave-like motion. Magical threads unseen to the basic human eye appeared from slits in the air, entwining themselves around the Transmition Orb and dragging it into their own plane of existence before vanishing from vision as though it had sunk into water, ripples of mystic energy spreading from where the rift had appeared until they too settled. Chevasto lowered his hand once the spell was completed.


The Vice Governor General stood up from his throne and stepped out onto the cold stone beneath his feet. He was in a sizable hidden compartment within the Manor's basement, where he did his "business" away from prying eyes. The entire Saffren Manor was enchanted to repel all forms of magical invasion so as to maintain the privacy of the home and its residents. Well, that was the official reason, anyway. At the end of the chamber stood a pair of magnificent wooden doors, which bore carvings of great dragons soaring in a sky of lightning and mist; he had kidnapped a skilled carver from the Tree-top forest regions to make it, and disposed of him afterward. There was no reason to let the world know who, or what, he was just yet. Approaching the doors, he opened them and felt the air waver as the disturbed magic settled at his presence. Chevasto was not surprised to see a young woman in the black-and-blue liveries of the House servants standing right outside the door. Keeping his face emotionless, Chevasto emerged from the room and shut the doors behind him. Once more, the air shimmered and the entrance altered itself into the form of the gray stone walls and disappearing behind the mystical barrier. Chevasto kept his gaze on the woman as he stepped up to her, taking her chin in his rough hand and angling her face towards his. As always, she remained as cold as stone.





"Titania . . . you should not be down here uninvited. Whatever forced you to come fetch me must have been important." Chevasto whispered as he trailed his index finger down the length of her neck; he was not able to draw out so much as a flinch or shiver from her as she nodded mutely in response to his inquiry. "Has he arrived?" Titania nodded again before pursing her lips and removing his hand from her chin smoothly with her own. Chevasto complied as Titania stepped back to curtsy before taking the lead . . . not that he needed her help finding his way around, it was simply protocol. Thus he followed her passed the various casks of wine and brandy and up the staircase that led to the main floor of the Manor. On the inside of the Manor, the walls were painted entirely in white, with crystal chandeliers on the ceiling and pale marble floors to add onto the glistening brightness. Chevasto enjoyed the color white; it was purity, truth, and represented Heaven itself. But most of all . . . it was a symbol of his dream for the world, to wipe it clean and start anew. That was his goal in this life, and in fact the goal of every Saffren; to bring about a new, brighter realm. It was a noble dream, and he knew it must be achieved by any means necessary, even if he had to sully his own hands. Folding said hands together, he kept his eyes ahead and his hands to his side, his stride regal and dignified. If his special guest was to see him, he would see him as the future Governor General of New Wahrheit. And so it begins...

~Geron Zanitas, Schnee Palast~




​

Geron cared not for the mad rambling and shouting of the mob surrounding himself and the boy named Alden, focusing only on what the boy had to say. Oh, he heard what these fools labeled the boy as, and told of what his "crimes" were . . . but in all honesty, he did not care what they had to say, for this "Alden" was much more important at the time. So Geron did not let go of him, even when it appeared that the mob was growing increasingly restless. If they wanted to touch the boy, they would have to pass by Geron's own fist, which was something he truly doubted they wanted to contend with. Thus he listened to Alden as he spoke of himself and the origins of the swords, uttering the name Geron already knew; Baynard Lochbuster, the former Paladin Commander General and a good friend of his . . . it had been difficult to learn of the excellent paladin's disappearance, and even more difficult when he heard of his friend's wife's passing. However, Geron always moved on; it was how he survived in this world. But finally the sins of his past were catching up to him, and in the form of his old friend's only son. Slowly, Geron released the boy from his grasp and took a step back. He ignored the crowd, and the girl who he assumed was Alden's friend, and turned the boy around to face him. Looking deep into the boy's eyes with his own piercing gaze, he spoke loud and clear for everyone to hear.





"By whose authority is it that what these fools say is true? Do you consider yourself a nuisance, a demon, a plague on their society? Those swords of yours should mark you not as a burden for the rest of Schnee Palast . . . they should show the nobility of your blood and the righteousness of your heart. I knew Baynard, and I know that he would never have given you those very blades . . . if he did not think you had that very same spark of light that he possessed. If this is the way these people have treated you these past years, well, I say damn them to the Bog! They dishonor the memory of both your father and your mother by acting out against you to sate their despair and their sorrow! Care not for what these simple-minded beasts label you as, for it is only the opinion of yourself that matters..." Geron's hands tightened on Alden's shoulders, his fingers digging in slightly, but not enough to cause pain. "...You owe them nothing, Alden. You owe no one anything. But, I . . . I have a debt I must pay to you, and pay it I shall. Your father would expect nothing less of me, nor should he. It is I who should apologize to you . . . and I may be the first. I am sorry, Alden Theodore Lochbuster, for not being here when it was clear that these monsters did not appreciate you and your life."





Geron let go of Alden and rounded on the crowd, who had fallen into a shocked and dull silence. His face was a mask of ice that held the malice of a thousand glacial storms, and he felt the urge to remove the eye-cover so that they could see him for what he truly was. With a snarl, he snapped at them in a voice filled with burning-red fury . . . if he were a dragon, he would be breathing fire at this point. "So this is what I have arrived to! Schnee Palast, the self-proclaimed most brotherly of villages! You do not deserve such a title! You do not deserve a Guild to defend your lives! You take out your anger on the son of a beloved hero, because you are scared . . . you condemn an innocent boy, who has done nothing to deserve it! How can you dare to call yourselves "human"? I see nothing but mindless beasts when I look at this crowd . . . and if this is what Schnee Palast has become, a village who rejects the sons and daughters of their own defenders, well, I pray that none of my descendants ever come to this accursed place! Look at young Alden Theodore Lochbuster, and see a young man who has grown to become a better person than any of you! Despite everything you have put him through, and despite all the torment you have caused him, he still has the heart to serve and protect you from the monsters beyond these walls. I . . . I cannot believe what I see before me. You should all be ashamed of yourselves, as am I."





With his word out there, Geron turned away from the stunned gathering of villagers and gestured to Alden and his female friend. "...If you wish, come with me to the Guild Hall. There is much for us to discuss, I am sure." With that, he sent one last spiteful glare at the many of the people within the crowd before stalking away, the people swerving from his path and admitting the two young Pages as well to follow after if they decided to. Geron hoped they would; otherwise the only "delightful" conversation he may have would be with the current Master Arms-Knight of Schnee Maiden.

 

[Riddle78]

Izzet's footfalls echoed back to him ad infinitum as he trotted through the caverns,operating solely on memory. He heard the plodding of Spore Creeps in nearby tunnels,but he never saw another one. A thought crossed his mind. Spore Creeps are nearly untouchable in the caves. What if they had a population explosion?


His musings were interrupted by the sharp crack of a gunshot,and the pinging of the bullet as it struck a wall. The thunderous cacophony echoed in the tunnel like a quake in a bubble. However,his trained senses quickly located the source of the sound. In near-total darkness,Izzet pulled the last firebomb from his bandoleer,and hurled it at the source.


The clay pot landed a scant five feet away from the gunman,shattering and releasing the mixture of phosphorous,oil and pitch,creating an enormous fire that would burn for quite some time. The cave now lit,Izzet drew the estoc that he had fashioned from a Minecrawler's forelimb and rushed to the boulder at a dead sprint. The shadow of a human was thrown onto the wall beside by the fire's light. Someone has very poor judgement.





Izzet reached the boulder,and leapt to it,planting a foot on the rocky face,then propelling himself further,vaulting over the large rock. As he flew over the person crouched behind,he saw the young man sitting there,expression rapidly changing from mirth to something else. Izzet couldn't tell. He wasn't a people person. Izzet landed,and shifted his momentum,driving his elbow backwards into the idiot's solar plexus,in an attempt to divorce him of his breath.


Izzet wheeled around,tearing off his simple mask,revealing his hideous visage to the boy. But it was for more than that. Izzet howled a furious howl,almost animalistic in nature,and unleashed a gout of flame from his mouth,straight into the poor fool's face. It was only a momentary puff,so if he didn't inhale,all he'd suffer would be some singed eyebrows. This was all a show,after all.


Before the flames could dissipate,Izzet stuck the point of his estoc up the would-be-jester's left nostril,and backed up to full extension,leaving the fool at least two full arm lengths away. With a little twist and flex of the wrist,he pushed the edgeless blade up against the roof of the nostril,forcing him to stand. "And this is why you should exercise proper judgement." The sound of the Jadetown-Platin train was quickly growing in intensity,but Izzet didn't care. He was near the wall of the cavern. He's safe.


"They might overreact."

 

[Cream Martinez]

~Warren Blythburgh and Llanelli Rodriksson: Still Upon The Roofs~

​

"I grow bored. And hungry. Boredom causes hunger, therefore my hunger doubles. " Warren rested his head on one palm, taking to sitting down on their vantage point and yawning as they continued their spying. His disappointment was extremely clear, and his facial expression was terribly transparent.


Llanelli's mouth twitched at its edges, as she tried to restrain herself from making a quip there and then. She failed in her internal struggle, and opened her mouth. "Surely, Master, there is something to whet your appetite for carnage." Llanelli waved her hand, a regal gesture, towards the loud, and honestly quite harmful to her ears, Geron, who spoke of something about "brotherly" and something. He was right on his proclamation. Had he not try to murder her eardrums every time he opened his mouth, she would be compliant to listen. Llanelli figured he must be compensating for something else with that enormous sword and that voice, and gave a girlish giggle, though only internally.


"Pah, more fool he who tries to challenge Geron to a battle. Besides, his sword outmatches my lance in length, for the gods' sakes! Excuse me, but I'd rather camp a day with the Swampsharks than to spend a duel with someone who is definitely not making up for the lack of size somewhere else."


Llanelli didn't know whether to be disgusted or impressed that her master had the same thinking as she did. She went with both and made an impressive retching sound.


"Anyway, this farce has wasted our time long enough, girl. Let us return to the Palast. See if we have any information regarding things we can actually maim without getting dirty looks." Warren straightened up and stretched his arms, giving a yawn. "Only when I rip those curs to shreds will this abysmal hunger be sated. For today."


Llanelli wanted to point out he never went out to missions with her, and he'd never actually rip curs to shreds around her except for her early days in the guild, but thought better of it. Upon the tiles above high, the two figures slipped out of sight.


------------------------

 

[Haley]

Aisha "Alive" [Feed Hall of the Thal'Blades, Thal'Zim Scorchlands.]





Aisha watched the fight fold out in cold observation. In the beginning it seemed as if Kakku would have the upper hand. He landed the first blow, one that sent the great Rak backwards. The room even fell silent as they awaited him to get back up. When Rak was on his feet once again the crowed roared up. Some shouted for Kakku to be victorious and others shouted for Rak's victory, mostly out of fear although Rak did have few supporters.


Aisha pushed and shoved excited men left and right from her to keep her spot in the front so that she could watch the match. When Rak tore Kakku's head from his body, Aisha was not spared in the blood shed, a long spurt of Kakku's blood flew across the crowd on her side and left it's splattered mark across her abdomen. She didn't flinch or even think a thought about it though. As Kakku's heavy corpse fell to the ground the crowd fell dead silent for the naked Rak's victory. Suddenly the feed hall was filled with the stench of soiled, dirty pants but no one seemed to notice. Smells of uncleanliness and death were nothing new to these people we lived in, were molded by it, birthed and died in it everyday, it was a part of like in Thal'Zim.


Aisha was just about to turn and leave, she had other business to take care of, she needed to sharpen her blade and speak with Bent il-hommar about some of her lunging attacks she needed to sharpen but was cut short from executing those plans when Rak ordered her to come with him.


She froze in place and lifted her narrowed, cold stare to him before moving her eyes to Bent il-Hommar who only nodded in return. it was not wise to disobey the Quartermaster, no matter how crazy he was or how much Aisha did not want to. With a swallow and a quickly cleared path from those around her, she stiffly forced her body to move after the naked Rak.


She followed silently, unsure of what to expect. From the other's in the group she knew they were either going to try two things with her. Either they felt they had the balls to mount her or they wanted her with them on some sort of hunting trip. The first never worked for anyone and she'd broken a great deal of many bones over a disagreement on who was to take her body. It was going to be her choice should she ever be interested in choosing.


The young female warrior sped up her stride until she was only an inch or two behind him and gripped er blade tighter before deciding to speak.


"What would you have me do, Quartermaster?" She asked, her voice as cold and stiff as her eyes and posture was. She wasn't sure what kind of response speaking at all would result in but she felt if she stayed respectful, perhaps he would be more willing to work with her and not just immediately beat her.

 

[Snek]

~ Southern Border of Titanic Treetops


Mingled with the sounds of birds chirping, leaves rustling, and animals calling, the sounds of singing could be heard drifting lazily through the foliage and treetops...


"♪ ♫ ♪ With a thousand lies and a good disguise, hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes...♫♪ ♫"


The singer seemed somewhat talented, but the song itself was not similar to the kind played in any region of the Titanic Treetops. It was a rather odd song, much different than any music played across the continent, but it was compelling, motivational...it made whoever listened to it get a strange urge to get up and dance, stomp their feet, and generally make noise.


Valder wasn't sure he was singing it, nor did he care. It just popped into his head from somewhere, so he decided to go with it. He was romping unceremoniously through the dense forest, his cape automatically changing shape to stretch around and cut away the vines and plant cover that was constantly in Valder's way.


"♪♫ Something something try, kid.... you're gonna go faaaaaaar kid...♫♪♫"


After a while, he started to forget the words, so he stopped singing. Instead he hummed to himself the first seven notes of a song over and over. Whatever song these seven notes were from, it was incredibly annoying, at least to anyone that might have been listening. It was nearly an hour of walking before he finally stopped humming, singing, and otherwise making music. However, he continued to stroll conspicuously as he went along, not bothering to keep his location hidden to anything or anyone desiring a snack.


Stepping out into a clearing, Valder stopped and rubbed his chin as he looked around.


"Hmm...this seems familiar...isn't this usually the part where something jumps-"


He was cut off by a huge roar, accompanied by a loud rumbling.


"Ahh, right on time. I was in the mood for a little tussle. COME OUT COME OUT, LITTLE PUSSYCAT! IT'S DINNER TIME! AND GUESS WHAT'S ON THE MENU? A FULL COURSE MEAL OF WHOOPASS!"


Valder held both hands out, palms up, as he stood hunched over slightly. His palms glowed a bright, powerful green and surged with energy. The tattoos that snaked across his face and down his torso began to glow green, illuminating the clearing. He put one hand on his hip and mock-yawned with the other right as a huge, predatory beast charged into the clearing and stopped, towering over him and roaring in his face.


"You took forever to get here. What took you so long? Had to check your makeup in the mirror? By the way, I dunno what you've been eating lately, but you need a Tic-Tac or something. Seriously dude, say it, don't spray it. Do us all a favor and shut your trap."


The beast, narrowing its eyes at Valder, raised itself up on its hind legs and roared once more.


"I've seen stamps that make a bigger impression than you. But if that's the way you wanna tango..."


Right as the beast leaped forward to attack, Valder turned around, the green runes on his cloak glowing as it formed into the shape of a giant thorn extending from his back. The beast landed right onto it, stabbing itself in the right forearm. It screamed in pain, stumbling backwards and clutching its wound with its other arm.


"What, not my fault I was such a THORN IN YOUR SIDE. You know, I could stab you more, but I just don't see the POINT." Valder chuckled at his puns as the beast circled him, preparing to attack again.


Valder continued laughing, dropping to the ground and clutching his stomach. This was too funny.

 

[Delta]

-Alden Theodore Lochbuster, saved from a stoning by Geron Zanitas-

​

To Alden's overwhelming surprise, Geron did not make the boy snap his own neck, which no doubt the Lancer Commander General easily could do. As if he respected the boy as a fellow human being, Geron Zanitas seemed to have been listening only to Alden as the lad spewed out his heart to the older man. What Alden found even more surprising was that Geron had let him go, the boy having stumbled slightly after just not having to rely on himself to remain standing. Suddenly, Alden was spun around by Geron, and the Lochbuster boy winced at the unexpected touch, fearing that maybe Geron thought twice about sparing his assailant and would instead be feeding him frozen stone. Instead, the Zanitas fellow looked Alden directly in his eyes, a gesture he hadn't received in a very long time. Each word that Geron boomed in his assailant's defense hit Alden with an indescribable shock that felt as though it came from the Wyrmslayer's electric blue eye; not necessarily a painful shock, but Geron's gallant words made Alden's finger tips numb. It also had been many-a starry moonlit nights since someone dared look into the Outcast's eyes when speaking to him without hurling up their food which, if his friend Rynn had anything to do with it, would be the same frozen stone beneath their feet Alden had initially feared Geron would be force-feeding him.


Although Alden had only ever read about the Wyrmslayer, and heard nothing but his heroic deeds on the battlefield when villagers came into the Cathedral to pray for him saving their family and loved ones out on the battle field, the boy sensed something else in the giant wall of masculine monster-mashing that Alden reckoned not everyone saw; something kind and warm, even warmer than the blue flames he was rumored to have in his eyeball... errr, in his possession. This hunch became even greater as Geron gripped the boy's shoulders, telling Alden that he owed a debt to him and apologized! Why was Geron of all people apologizing, when he was one of the few people to actually stick up for him! Though this talk of debt made Alden wonder if something had happened between his father and Geron, and Alden made a note in his head to question Geron on this later if they had the chance to speak in private. When Geron's speech turned into a strict lecture as he turned to the crowd, Alden swiveled his head in the direction of his words as if they were a stream. However, Alden's eyes caught a glimpse of what appeared to be two silhouettes standing on a rooftop. This suspicion was confirmed when shortly after, Alden had to blink because the cold wind was welding his eyes shut, but when he opened them the assumed figures were nowhere to be found. Alden shrugged this off, but when he snapped back to reality he realized his shoulder was doing quite the opposite of shrugging, it was in fact be dragged down by a heavy weight. He looked down to find that his bag of warg bones was once again in his gloved possession. Alden looked up at Geron, who was heading towards a path cleared for him out of the crowd. The boy turned to Rynn, who was standing next to him.


"Well Rynn, let's go after him. I would like to formally speak to my new friend!" The line of tears that had previously streamed down either side of Alden's face were still very visible, but they did not stop him from smiling warmly to his best friend. This smile was always on his face when he made up his mind on something and wouldn't back down from achieving it. Hoping Rynn would agree to tag along, he swooped the bag off the ground and slung it back over his shoulder, grunting slightly as his ribs were jabbed by the rib of a warg. Alden didn't bother to look at anyone as he jogged forward to catch up with Geron Zanitas, and began to speak once his steps matched the Wyrmslayer's and he could concentrate on other things; like thanking his new-found friend. "It was, uh.. very nice what you said back there, Geron. But please know that now we are friends, I won't let you think of this as a debt." A saying Alden had been told a long time ago popped in the boys head as he beamed up at Geron. " 'The acknowledgment of needing to help a friend should not be viewed as a debt; a debt is measured in material, and friendship is something not even the most skilled merchant can truly put a price on' ... Or atleast I think that's what he said." Alden would have to remind himself to ask his father when they found him if that was the correct saying.

-Master Arms-Maiden/ Pirate Queen Bonnie Bazooka, having found Captain Pandora Belleville-

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The Galleon Guild's Master Arms-Maiden needed no more than fifteen seconds to reason that Captain Belleville wasn't the brightest of pirates. Certainly among the most squiffy, but Bonnie didn't think the woman's brain would be big enough to use as a cleaning sponge. When the Pirate Queen had approached the Captain, Pandora seemed to be questioning, rather indignantly, the layout of the Port and why there was a wall in her way. While Bonnie herself could admit to being rather frustrated whilst trying to navigate the large Port, there was nary a time the now- pondering Lady Bazooka could recall ever trying to ask to the wall why it was where it was, which seemed to be spot on with what Pandora Belleville was attempting at the time of Bonnie's initial confrontation with her. Bonnie knew for a fact the woman she was speaking to was Captain Pandora Belleville, and Pandora knew for a fact that Bonnie knew for a fact the woman was Belleville. It was comical to the Pirate Queen, if not slightly irritating, when the Captain tried identifying a random civilian as herself; when Bonnie turned her head to see who exactly might be Captain Pandora Belleville if the Pandora Belleville in front of her was not in fact the Captain, Pandora's finger led directly to an elderly man who was limping along the dock at about a league per lifetime. Bonnie Bazooka turning her attention back towards the real Captain Belleville, her head turned slightly as she scratched her rosy cheek with her index finger worriedly as she spoke to the Captain.


"Errr, lass? I think ye might be having a bad case of identity crisis there. When ye and yer crew are ready to set sail with me, it probably wouldn't be a bad idea if ye were to take a caulk before we reach our location." Bonnie chuckled slightly, and refrained from letting out a long sigh for fear Captain Pandora was already enough of an air head. "But what say be the truth, lass. In tagging along for the monster hunt, you will not only have your debts wiped clean, you'll also be getting paid. Granted, since I'm the leader of the Galleon Guild, ye don't actually have a say in whether or not ye will be attending the festivities. I just figured it would be bad banners of me to not come out and find ye meself." Bonnie coughed awkwardly before continuing. "Now m'lady, I need ye to take me to yer crew before we have a briefing about the contract later on tonight. " The Pirate Queen gave Pandora a smile that could win the heart of a grumpy Deity, cocking out her elbow as if to ask the Captain for a formal stroll. "Shall we be off, lass?"