simba-tia

[simba-tia]

For some reason I feel like this should be canon.

A Rainy Day

[simba-tia]

[The Mark - Blood Moon Rising - Part One]

A vignette reaction to a Fate-14 RP Event hosted by S’imba Tia ( @simba-tia ) for his Blood Moon Rising story line.

RPC Cross-Post

In those, long past, distant days of yore. When we learned our songs of love, and lore Of Misty wood, and ancient timber, Of mighty boughs, untouched by cinder. Where heroes, beyond our ken,  once stood, Within that dark, that black, that Mirk Wood. -Excerpt from Gyr-Abanian Folk Song

Aya shuddered in her sleep.  She was wrapped in a light blanket on a simple berth of an evening airship.  It was the last leg of the long journey home from Gyr Abania for the unlikely adventurer, and it had been anything but restful.  Her adventures into the marshy woods of the Gyr Abanian fringe had left her mid-section wrapped in bandages, and her trusty poncho ripped by claws.  The bandages had stanched the flow of blood, and the torn poncho could be patched.  It was the wounds that gripped her spirit that ran far deeper.

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[simba-tia]

Merchant, Marine: We’re All Free

“Ala Gannha.” Stamp, slide, shuffle. “Ala Ghiri.” Shuffle, shuffle. “Gannha again…” Stamp, stamp. “Ala Mhigan Quarter.” Shuffle. A pause. “The Saltery? Thought it was a ruin. Calling back old families, I suppose.” A final shuffle.

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[simba-tia]

The Umbral Warlord

S’imba took in several deep breaths clutching a deep slash across his chest. Looking down on the white haired female he had just defeated in a sparring match of the falling stars. From what he understood normally the other warlords of the falling stars didn’t spar due to the possibility of being defeated. However S’imba felt that as an outsider he needed to continually prove himself. To remind them why X’zarann had chosen him to be the warlord of the golden prints. He also sought to stand out among them. Though it did tend to mean he ended up with quite a few extra injuries, and the battles were never easy. Suddenly there was a loud shout at the door to their warehouse. It sounded hostile. With a growl S’imba walked over to the entrance and pulled the door back.

Outside there was a little Lalafell Thaumaturge with a pencil thin mustache with a pair of Roe thugs that had their swords drawn.

“Ah greetings, Mongoloidian Tribal.” The Thaumaturge said in a surprisingly smooth voice that had an extremely matter of fact business like tone to it. “We represent a group of concerned citizens that have taken issue with your residence here. We ask that you surrender yourselves to the proper authorities concerning your various criminal activities.”

“You must be mistaken.” S’imba growled at the Lalafell, clutching the wound on his chest. “We’re just a band of strays that have sought refuge to raise our young.”

The lalafell gave a sneer. “Regardless you are all a blight on our fair city, and it falls to me to see it cleansed.”

S’imba narrowed his eyes, baring his fangs. Acting slightly more aggressive than normal to keep up his appearances as the rest of the golden prints watched the scene unfold. “I think you would be wise to turn and walk the other way, outsider.” He said with a growl. “Unless you wish to have your very soul torn from your body to burn for an eternity in the depths of the abyss.”

The Lalafell grinned. “Do not try to intimidate me with your tribal superstitions, cat. I am no stranger to dabbling in darkness.”

S’imba twisted his lips into a sneer, putting on the best show he could. Trying to appear as dark and over the top edgy as he could. “Cute, but you should know that -I- am darkness itself, I wield power that you could merely dream of.”

The lalafell sighed and gestured to the Roe on either side of him. “Kill him then seal the door so I can burn this eyesore and the vermin inside to the ground.”

The Roe nodded and took a step towards S’imba. They drew their swords and continued advancing.

“So you have elected destruction and damnation?” S’imba said with a shake of his head, flicks his wrists, and raised his palm towards them. Without another word he fired a red bolt at them that exploded in a burst of red aether, ripping the aether from their bodies and causing both to fall lifeless to the ground.

The Lalafell stared in horror as his men fell. Losing his composure he simply turned to flee as fast as he could. S’imba was tempted to finish him but decided against it. Turning to walk back inside he without a word to the others he made his way to a back office that he had fashioned into a sort of personal chamber for himself. He’d filled it with various trophies from his adventures to at least try and look the part of warlord. While it certainly wasn’t as extravagant as the Nunh’s personal chambers S’imba couldn’t help feel a bit proud of it. Even if most of it was just stupid junk and a bunch of fancy swords he had collected.

He shut the door behind himself and gave a sigh. This whole act tended to be exhausting, spending so much time trying to be this terrifying being. Thankfully all that time he had spent with Sven gave him plenty of intimidating dialogue to draw on. Mixed with trying to emulate X’zarann he felt he hoped he was at least having some success. He spent much of his time acting like he was some kind of deity like X’zarann, that this “abyss” he wielded was a power that was the opposite of the Nunh’s radiance. If he could get them to see him as some sort of dark god of destruction maybe they would stop worshipping X’zarann to offer their prayers to the new deity. Hopefully to weaken X’zarann from making his ascension. Since S’imba had no intention of using their prayers to gain power he felt he didn’t have to worry if the sept actually started worshiping him, they may as well pray to a statue of Halone. He walked over and grabbed some bandaging, starting to treat his wounds and gave a heavy sigh. “It’s really hard to try and be a god.” He muttered to himself.

[simba-tia]

First Impressions of the Xaela clans:

Adarkim: The largest clan that absolutely no one will pick

Angura: Genetic Sunburn

Arulaq: Hidden Elf Village

Avagnar: Our hat is angst

Bairon: We drink our own pee

Bayaqud:  the term is ‘polyandry’

Bolir: The poop seller tribe

Borlaaq: #misandry

Buduga: WE ARE THE VILLAIN TRIBE

Dalamiq: well. there goes our pantheon.

Iriq: Foster Home of Love

Jhungid: DO YOU BITE YOUR THUMB AT US SIR

Kharlu: I DO BITE MY THUMB SIR

Khatayin: The Other Hidden Elf Village

Malqir: Chess club

Mankhad: Blow darts

Mierqid: Geocaching

Noykid: GOTTA TAME ‘EM ALL

Olkund: Hamster eating a banana

Dazkar: #misandry 2.0

Oronir: when we said ‘sun father’ we didn’t mean literally you guys

Oroq: sleds

Qerel: punch tiGERS WITH THEIR BARE HANDS

Torgud: the erp tribe

Tumet: Worst. Summer camp. Ever.

Ugund: Mmm, delicious goat milk.

Uyagir: They dug too deep.

Dhoro: Meercat Lizards

Orben: Nice Boats.

Ejinn: NAVY SEALS. BLUB BLUB.

Dotharl: WITNESS ME.

Hotgo: :(

Sagahl: MEAT IS MURDER!!!!!

Kahkol: We made our own tribe! With blackjack and hookers!

Kha: Hello, do you have time to talk about the Moon Mother?

Mol: let me consult my almanac

Gesi: there is no class in the game to support this

Kagon: the otaku tribe

Goro: horsefuckers

Gharl: Insert Pirates of the Caribbean joke here

Dataq: DON’T YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT SADDLE SORE I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT SADDLE SORE

Haragin: HMMM. I WONDER WHERE OUR ANCESTORS VISITED. WHERE COULD IT BEEEE.

Ura: DIGGY DIGGY HOLE

Moks: What’s the secret handshake

Geneq: I wish I could speak whale…

Horo: Inflation fetish

Himaa: in before a million Hikaru and Kaoru ripoffs

Malaguld: we <3 weebs

Urumet: Master Blaster

Qalli: Let me sing you the song of my people

Qestir: ………….

[simba-tia]

09/21/17 Artworks

Some Doodads,edits, and paints. 

Lepi&Rin’ji 

Regardless of loosing his voice… Lepi’s love for Rinji still gave him some hope that not everyone is bad in this life.. He sought to go out and protect his mate from the torments of the civilized world.. dragging him to a place void of most human activity to be safe enshrouded in his love and protection. 

((For now.. anyway :P))

Meeting the keeper - Blooded Brother

Lep meeting simba since his incident.  

“how i missed you dear brother..” 

“.. even though you were always with me.. in spirit.. i know you will found peace without me beside you…right?..” 

Freedom of the snow’kin keepers. 

Cold Day artwork. - Lepi , Kaz , and Simba doing their brotherly stuff … mostly fighting or getting into trouble.. ^^ 

Feeling rather.. okay lately.. not as sad .. but still it lurks.. my brothers give me a peace of mind with love and time spent so i dont overflow with the negatives.. so here’s a shiny spiral thing i found <3 

@kaz-xiv @simba-tia Love you Both <3 

[simba-tia]

[OOC] The State of the Runestone.

Here is a little more criticism, I hope it is as constructive as it possibly can be. This will pertain to The Mystic Runestone, which for those that do not know is a role-playing, mage-battling event which takes place on Balmung in Fesca’s Wash, just outside of Ul’dah’s gates. This would normally be an unremarkable event but it is spiced up by the fact that illegal, forbidden magicks are allowed to be used during the competition. Not only that, the forbidden art practitioners are sanctioned and protected until the conclusion of the event.

It’s worth noting before I start that this isn’t me trying to police the role-play of other people, I am simply going to point out the inconsistencies that I have spotted and offer my opinions, as well as things that could be done to make everything make a little more sense. I can only apologize in advance if I come across as unpleasant, it’s never my intention to be. I will warn you that I will not be blurring out names. I am not saying that those mentioned are bad people in any regard, but I will need to cite them to make my points.

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[simba-tia]

Tahni'sae has been involved in the Runestone long before he joined the EC, and as far as I'm aware, the rule about forbidden magic was added before he even joined, so I don't think that the Runestone is in any way biased towards the EC.

Hello! Thank you for your clarification.

I apologize if my wording made it seem as if I was trying to discredit EC-RP in any way, I did say that it was never my intention to insult anybody and the post was not an attack, nor did I think it was biased. I thought it would be interesting to point out the cognitive dissonance between “Lore-Stringent” and having control over the Sultana and the Syndicate in the form of permission to harbor mages who should rightly be universally feared by the general public, and maybe that lore-stringentness could be appealed to, to make very slight changes for the better.

But there is also the point that I made - Just because something has been happening for a long time, it does not mean that it is beyond criticism.

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[simba-tia]

@simba-tia Won a drawing during my stream on Saturday, and here it is! S’imba, taking the place of Simba, but he doesn’t look too happy about it! ♥

[simba-tia]

Finally using his biting habits for the forces of good.

Angry Simb’a noming on Evil-Doer for JUSTICE!

A little gift for friendo @simba-tia (Also, look!  I’m back to arting now!)

[simba-tia]

A sketch drawn of S'imba by Kaz

[simba-tia]

Serving the Grief Stricken

S'imba took a deep breath and swallowed as he stepped onto highbridge. This wasn't going to be easy, but it needed to be done. He couldn't help but feel he was responsible for the deaths of those children. His own recent loss of someone close to him only served to drive the need to this home even more. Talking with a nearby blade he was able to find where the family of one of the children resided. He soon found himself at their doorstep that felt all too soon. His heart pounded in his chest, he had no idea how this was going to go. He straightened himself up to stand at his tallest though he stood fairly stiffly. Slowly he extended his hand to knock on the door. Biting his lip as he waited. After what felt like an eternity the door opened, a rough looking Hyur man with a finely trimmed mustache. The appearance of which caused the man to look more than a little intimidating. "Can I help you?" He grunted at the keeper raising his eyebrows. "Oh you're one of them adventurers. What are you doing here? Your kind usually just does their job and moves on." S'imba stood his ground staring up to the man. "Some of them yes, but with your recent loss I felt it would be kind of wrong to leave you, your family, and the others families that suffered the same thing to deal with things on their own." The father stared at S'imba for a long time. "We don't need your help." The man growled at S'imba. "We're perfectly fine without it, now leave us alone with our grief." "B-but..." S'imba started though he deflated in defeat. His ears perked as he heard a chubby boy walk up behind his father, no older than ten. He was dirty and scruffy and wore fairly ragged clothing. "Who is it father?" The boy asked his father looking out the door curiously. "No one, Tup." The father replied looking back to his son. "Go to bed." The boy stared at S'imba for a minute squinting at him before his eyes went wide. He started to hyperventilate as he stared at S'imba muttering out incomprehensible words. S'imba stared at the boy with a shocked and worried expression, definitely convinced the boy was about to pass out. The boy's father looked just as concerned at how his son was acting. "What's wrong Tup?" The boy's father asked kneeling down to his level and looking the boy in the eyes.   Suddenly Tup let out a shriek of excitement. "FATHER, DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS?!" He squealed at the top of his lungs in the father's face. "THAT'S A REAL LIFE GLADIATOR, THE HELL CAT!! HE'S RIGHT HERE!! AT OUR HOUSE!! RIGHT NOW!! THIS IS SO COOL!!" Both S'imba and the boy's father blinked, completely taken off guard by the reaction. S'imba rubbed his neck awkwardly while the father looked back at the Miqo'te with a sigh. It was clear he couldn't turn S'imba away now. This had been the most excited he'd been since losing his brother. Slowly the father waved S'imba to step inside the small home that definitely had seen better days. The keeper stepped inside into the light definitely looking awkward now. "IT'S REALLY YOU!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!" The boy said running up to S'imba pulling on his pant legs to her S'imba to crouch down next to him. Which S'imba did looking the boy in the eyes and giving a smirk to the boy. "Tup, quiet down!" The father snapped at the boy. "You're gonna make the whole settlement go deaf!" Tup gave a sheepish smile looking back to S'imba and said. "Stay here!" He said before scampering back to a box and rifling through it. The father looked at S'imba, finally relenting due to his son's joy. "Right, then you're here to help me out?" He said looking down at the Miqo'te doubtfully with a scoff but he decided to see just how sincere this keeper was. He started to think of a list of miserable tasks to give the keeper, when his son returned. "Look what I got last I was in Ul'dah!" He said holding out an object in S'imba's face that caused the keeper to pin his ears back. It was unmistakable to him and he couldn't believe it had come back to haunt him, was something that could only be described as a S'imba plushie. S'imba turned bright red and reached up to rub his neck. "T-that's pretty cool..." He said, no idea how to respond to that. The father cleared his throat and spoke up. "Right then, if you're really here to help you can take care of a few chores." He said nodding to S'imba. "I've been busy with the stand trying to make some extra gil to pay Nald'Thal for my son's burial. As you can see the house has fallen into a bit of disrepair. You can start by cleaning the house, then cleaning the chocobo stables." "Is that why you're here, to do our chores!?" Tup said incredulously, despite S'imba nodding his head to the boy's father with no complaint. "Err yeah, you're father wanted me to come and show you that even a gladiator needs to do chores." S'imba said giving an awkward grin. The father raised his brow at S'imba, somewhat impressed at the keeper. S'imba set straight to work picking up any trash and organizing everything out of place. Collecting dirty dishes and putting them into the sink and washing them. He wiped off counters and tables. Collected the dirt clothes and set them by the door to wash in the morning. Tup wasn't going to let S'imba work alone. He jumped in helping clean up too, setting books back on the shelf and drying off the dishes. "I saw the fight where you fought that big dumb Roe! Uh what's his name? The Darksteel Juggernaut! I thought you were done when you fought him! Especially after he had that chain wrapped around your neck!" The boy said excitedly, talking to S'imba non-stop while they worked. Finally when the task was done the father sent the boy to bed telling him that S'imba would still be there in the morning. He gave S'imba a look that he was staying the night and gestured his head at the couch. S'imba nodded his head wandering over to the couch and laying down as the boy ran off to his bed. A rough night's sleep later, no thanks to the super lumpy couch S'imba was awoken by Tup what felt like way too early in the morning. The father made them both breakfast of bacon and eggs, afterwhich S'imba set to work once more. Going out to clean the stables pulling out the old hay and scrubbing the walls of the stables with soapy water. Then put new hay in. Tup of course helped as well, talking excitedly the entire time. Asking questions as to how he got so strong or how fast he actually was. S'imba answered the questions with the usual eat your vegetables type answers. He followed up by taking the family's laundry to the river and washing them. When he returned Tup had managed to gather up his friends and S'imba was forced to spend the afternoon signing autographs and telling them stories. Though part of him did enjoy it. Especially when he told tales of his adventures outside the coliseum. Definitely helped him feel like some big name adventurer. Thanks to Tup's excitement and telling everyone would listen that he had a gladiator staying at his house and that he was helping their family out with things. His actions spread around Highbridge like wildfire. He found it far easier to get the other families to let him offer his service to the while helping them with their grief. While he did feel like he was being taken advantage of with some of the tasks he didn't complain. He just served the families the best he could. Whether he was washing smallclothes, hauling firewood, or digging up crystals for the families he just did his best to help them out. Finally when the families had no more things they could reasonably ask him to do they expressed their appreciation to him. Tup made him promise to come back and visit again, to which S'imba agreed to. With a wave to the villagers and the guilt he felt on his conscience lifted significantly he started back home. Now able to focus on his expedition he was going to lead into Amdapor.  

[simba-tia]

Greed:Low

 Gluttony:Low

 Wrath:Very High

 Sloth:Very Low

 Envy:Very Low

 Lust:Very Low

 Pride:High

  Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz @dancingnlancing asked me to do this so here are my results.

[simba-tia]

What has S'imba been doing over the timeline of Heavensward? Favorite memories?

To answer this we have to go back to the time of the Ul’dah revolution. S’imba had his life turned on his head after being implicated as a scion and abandoned in Ul’dah by his superiors with the impossible task of clearing their name. Eventually he was forced to go into hiding and vanished until running into Sven Volkorus. He immediately got sucked into fraternizing with dragons after Sven used him to force a vision of the origins of the dragonsong war. This set off a long journey of fighting for Sven’s freedom from them. 

Having been being taken advantage of for so long, his darkside was unleashed after finding a soulstone. He became a dark knight and spent a good amount of time trying to gain control of himself. Surprisingly he became a sort of mentor to a few other dark knights. 

He met Therron a dragoon from Ishgard. Therron was a lot like S’imba which caused him to find a certain sort of bond with him. Therron had a tendency to see S’imba as something more than he actually was. The two fought many battles and went through many trials. Whether they were training with hopes of being the ones to bring justice to Estinian/Nidhogg, or being kidnapped and having a dragon try to fuse a bit of the essence of Bahamut to S’imba. He sees Therron as a brother and became a thrall of a dragon by drinking his blood in order to protect Therron from having that fate being forced on him. 

Events eventually led to S’imba being killed. However thanks to experiments that had been conducted on his tribe, powers of his dark knight, and a few other factors he managed to live on in a zombified state. Though he eventually returned to life properly he ended up stuck as a keeper. Something that was extremely difficult to accept at first, but he’s managed to embrace it.

As far as memories go most of the time has been a constant struggle for him. His attempts to save the world lead to a life of shallow victories and being hit over and over with misery and disappointment. 

One memory that he considers one of the best things to ever happen to him is meeting a keeper by the name of Nihka Mioni. He believes she’s the mortal form of Menphina after the kindness and love she showed him. Helping him accept his change to being a keeper. He is terrified of losing her from his life since he feels it would mean being drug back into a life of absolute shit.

Despite the amount of painful memories he has he wouldn’t trade them, the friendships he’s made, the family that grown from it, and how much he’s grown makes him think it was worth it...though he would be more than happy to purge any memory of moogles from his mind.  

[simba-tia]

Lost in the Lost City (final)

The wailers shoved S'imba through the swamp, he tried to convince them that he wasn't the king. However every time he opened his mouth and started to speak he received an extremely sharp jab to the back of the head. He was sore, tired, and hungry part of him doubtful these wailers were going to be very helpful. At long last they arrived at the wailers’ camp. However they marched S'imba some distance off, next to the road. Cutting his bound hands free. S'imba gave a confused look at the wailers. Two of them grabbed S'imba by either arm and shoved him up against a tree, lifting him up under the armpits. While the other two took a length of course rope running it under his arms, and looping it up over the branches to suspend S'imba there. The rope rubbed against the softer skin of his underarms fairly painfully. They took a second piece of rope which they wrapped around S'imba and the tree. With his arms bound to his side, though not enough to support his weight in order to make sure the ropes he was hanging from would be supporting the majority of his weight. They finished up by binding his legs to the tree. They turned to leave silently leaving S'imba by himself. He struggled against the rope, however it only succeeded in causing his armpits to be all the more irritated. He growled, yelling out in frustration. He hung there for several hours before one of the wailers returned with a plate of cooked antelope. S'imba stared at the food. The wailer held the plate out in front of S'imba. It smelt so good to him, his stomach growled out. “Hungry?” The Elezen asked S'imba. The keeper stared, giving a slow nod. “Too bad, murderers like you deserve to starve.” The wailer sneered at the Miqo'te. S'imba gaped shaking his head. “Tell you what, if you beg I'll give it to you.” The Elezen said with a cruel smile. S'imba gave a whimper, he was absolutely desperate. “P-please...just a bite...I haven't had anything to eat in days.” He didn't have to fake the tears, he couldn't handle any more of this. The Elezen smiles before moving up as closely as he could to S'imba. Then slowly he began eating it, slowly. Savoring it in front of the Miqo'te. S'imba absolutely broke down at this point, sobbing at the torture he was being put through. After what felt like an eternity the Elezen finished eating. He stared coldly at S'imba. “That's was for my brother.” The wailer said before turning to walk away. “I'm not the king...I didn't do it…” He sobbed but the Elezen didn't listen once again leaving S'imba all alone. He cried for a while figuring the wailers were leaving him here to starve. Finally he managed to calm himself. His ears pinned back as the snapping of branches reached his ears. He saw something big moving in the distance in the trees moving towards him. Gods some predator was on its way to eat him, probably some bear. He started to struggle against the ropes as hard as he could. He cried out for help as loud as he could. His expression soon turned dry however as a large antelope stag stepped out. S'imba stared dryly as the thing watched towards him. When it reached him it watched him for a moment before extending it's tongue and starting to lick his face. “Stop that…” He snapped at it. “Get out of here...shoo.” Though it didn't listen to him, continuing to lick him endlessly. He tried to stop himself from thinking how things could get worse from here. Though apparently that was too much. He froze solid as he heard a familiar booping sound. “Oh gods no...please no…” He begged to himself. He heard the singing before he actually saw them floating down the road. Three moogles, singing their irritating songs. They came to the tree and looked at the bound keeper. S'imba stared back before snapping at them. “What?!” The moogles looked at each other. “Oh look, another poacher tied to a tree, kupo!” The first sang, then the second spoke. “ He can see us too kupo....and he doesn't even have a pom!” “Naughty naughty poacher, what have you done~” They started singing. “You hunt and you hunt until there is none! Kupo!~” “I'm not a poacher!” S'imba roared out them. “I'm S'imba and I'm innocent!” The moogles started to bob excitedly. “Did you hear that, it's the pom hero!” S'imba stared like a deer in the headlights “Gods no I'm not…” S'imba started before the moogles broke into dance and song again. Singing about his mundane deeds. How he had killed a fearsome monster which had only turned out to being a toad with weird eyes. “OK if I'm a mighty hero then you should untie me.” S'imba said to them. The moogles looked at one another. “Did you hear that?” The first asked. “The pom hero has been caught by some dastardly villain, and now needs to escape their clutches, so he may save a fair maiden from the pomless ones!” They cried out. “How can he escape this predicament before the fiends toss the maiden from a cliff?” S'imba groaned as they broke into song about some made up adventure he was on. All night long they sang, S'imba squirming trying to escape. Finally in the early hours of the morning the wailers would return. The moogles floated away into the trees to watch. This time the wailers had a captain with them. The man took one look at S'imba. “You idiots, this isn't the couerlclaw king.” He said shaking his head. S'imba gave a sigh of relief. “Didn't you see the article?” The wailers grumbled among themselves. “Cut him down.” The captain ordered. With great reluctance the wailers walked over and cut the ropes, S'imba falling to his hands and knees. “Just cause the Raven says something doesn't make it true.” One of the wailers muttered under his breath. S'imba offered a quick thanks to the captain before snatching the lance left on the side of the tree to use as a prop. Then grumbling he started off, finally making it back to Thanalan.

[simba-tia]

Lost in the Lost City Part 5

S’imba made his way down the tower as fast as his legs would carry him. Continually telling himself. “Almost there...almost there...almost there.” Soon he would be out of this gods forsaken city and back in the safety of the Raven’s house. Though not before he would go straight to Nihka so he could get his wounds taken care...and hopefully avoid getting in too much trouble. Course if he told her what had happened she likely wouldn’t believe him. He barely believed himself. This whole situation seemed to be a nightmare that he was stuck in. Maybe he was still asleep back at his camp. If only…

He simply jumped over several of the different monsters he would meet on the steps, breaking into a run to get away before the creatures of hell could realize what had happened. All of the sudden he came to a stop as he crashed into something solid. He realized he was looking at some kind of barrier. “No...no...no..no...no!” He cried out as he placed his hand against what felt like a invisible wall. He noticed that as he pushed strange runes would appear. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He shouted at the wall completely frustrated with situation. He threw himself against it, punching, kicking, and slamming his whole body against the wall. Despite this it refused to budge. On the other side of the wall he could see a glowing orb seeming to provide power to the barrier. Ok so he just had to destroy the orb, that seemed easy enough. He moved over to the edge of the railing dropped down so he was holding it and hanging off to the side, slowly he shimmied himself across. He managed to pass the barrier with a satisfied smirk before walking over to the orb sticking his hand out to take it. Once he removed it from it’s podium he smirked as it stopped glowing and the barrier vanished. “Perfect now I can get throu…” He said before pausing glancing back to the barrier, then back to where he was standing, then back to the barrier. He simply just face palmed at his own stupidity. “I’m too tired for this…” He muttered continuing down the steps as quickly as possible.

At long last he made it down to the bottom of the tower, hurrying out the door, almost running for the exit of the city. Though that’s when he heard it. A few cries of horror off a bridge he had just crossed. Looking over the edge he stared as a group of five wailers were cornered by some sort of zombie dragon. Wait Damascus would say that was insensitive...it was a differently living dragon. He shook his head he definitely couldn’t leave them to their fate. He stepped up to the ledge looking for a way down. The sun behind him cast a shadow to down below, causing the wailers to look up and point. He definitely must have been quite the spectacle, nothing more than a silhouette that seemed to eclipse the sun. S’imba huffed when he didn’t see an obvious way down. He reached back for the lance as it clicked. Here was his chance to be a total bad ass.

Taking the lance in hand he took what he assumed to be some sort of iconic dragoon pose. He took a deep breath before jumping from the platform dropping down several stories of building. Pointing the spear downwards he pointed it straight at the dragon’s back. His aim paid off, the spear dug deeply in while the dragon provided him a semi soft landing. He yanked the spear out before back flipping off the dragon. Though his landing turned out poorly his ankle twisting painfully, causing him to shout out in pain. He hopped around, looking pretty idiotic at this point. He looked up as the dragon started to move again. “Shit…” He muttered tightening his grip on the lance. With a loud war cry he charged forwards repeatedly stabbing out at anything he could reach on the dragon. Swinging the spear wildly. Thankfully due to his earlier attack the dragon had been highly crippled, letting S’imba actually be effective in his assault against the winged menace. Slashing it to ribbons it finally opened it’s maw to breathe whatever it had planned to breathe all over the group. Though out of sheer luck he stabbed the lance upwards, bursting through the softer roof of the mouth sinking the blade deeply up into the thing’s skull. The dragon dropped like a sack of popotoes, S’imba using his foot to pull the lance out and turn to face the wailers with a cocky smirk swinging the lance and tossing it over his back.

The wailers stared at their savior for a brief moment, relief forming over their features. Though as their adrenaline subsided they squinted at S’imba. “It’s you!” Their leader cried out. S’imba canted his head with confusion. “It’s the Couerlclaw King!” One of the wailers shouted out. “You can’t be serious…” S’imba said gaping at them. Their eyes darted to the lance. “Look he’s even using a lance from a wailer that he obviously murdered!” Another shouted as they started to close in on the keeper. “I just saved you life!” S’imba begged, knowing full well there was no way he was beating the five of them. “You’re under arrest!” The leader called out as the rest of the group formed around him lances pointed at his neck. Sighing in defeat he lifted his hands into the air, teeth clenched in frustration.

One of the wailers grabbed one of S’imba’s wrists twisting it painfully behind his back while a second wailer pulled a bit of rope from his belt. S’imba’s second arm followed the first causing him to yelp out in pain. They tied his hands behind his back before pushing him forwards. “You’re going to rot in prison for the rest of your miserable life, anything you want to say for yourself?” One of the wailers snapped at him. S’imba glared at the man before opening his mouth to give a bit of sass. “Yeah, you can go fuck a snurble!” It earned him a sharp poke to the back of the head with the butt of a lance, though he smirked, he was pretty proud of that one. The wailers shoved him forwards one of them keeping an iron grip on his filthy bicep as if he was scared his prisoner was going to run. They lead him out the door into the swamp in the south shroud. S’imba gave a heavy sigh as he fidgeted his hands in the bindings.

Well at the very least…at least he was out of the city.

[simba-tia]

Lost in the Lost City part 4

S'imba had no idea how long he was in that dark organic prison. Sitting there trying to figure out anyway to escape, and where he was going to end up. He suddenly yelped out in pain. His skin was burning agonizingly. It took him a few moments to realize it but he was starting to be digested. He renewed his attempts to break free punching, kicking, and biting. Though all of his attempts would be absolutely futile. Just as he was about to give up hope as he was praying for help to every God, he could think of there was a sudden jolt and found himself tumbling around in the death trap. Suddenly coming to a hard stop, he gave a groan. Though he blinked as light burned his eyes. He had a chance. Quickly he forced his way out into the sunlight. He had to blink several times for his eyes to adjust to the blinding light. When he finally managed to clear them he saw what had smashed the goobbue. Some sort of ancient giant robot. He was almost certain that no one was going to come close to believing this story. He reached down to pick up the spear hearing a noise behind him he looked around seeing the goobbue standing back up. Nope he was getting out of this fight. He cast his gaze around the area he saw a giant moth flying at a nearby ledge. Well it seemed like a good idea to him. Running forward he lunged off the ledge, managing to land on the giant Morpho’s back and wrap his legs around it while gripping onto the Antenna with his hands. Finally a butterfly that was going to make itself useful. Though his plan didn't go as well as he had hoped. The Morpho freaked out after the Miqo'te jumped on its back. Thrashing around in the air, trying to throw the keeper off. S'imba managed to hold on, but vomited from motion sickness. The moth rose above a nearby tower and S'imba jumped off and landed nimbly on the top. He let himself fall down on his rear and decided cultists be damned he was going to take a break. He looked across the city somewhat hopelessly. It went on endlessly, he was going to be stuck here forever. As he was about to break down in tears he looked over his shoulder. There were trees, and a swamp. He was so close! Jumping to his feet he ran over to the ledge. He looked down. Well if he could figure out how to get off of here. He saw some sort of window below him, grabbing onto the ledge he gave a swing of his legs jumped over to the window sill. As he landed he felt himself tipping backwards, though managed to catch his hand on the side of the window. Giving a sigh of relief he hopped onto the floor, with renewed vigor he started to make his way down the tower. ‘Just a little farther…’