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sepublic · 4 years ago

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Barraki

The Powers That Be are those Xians who reign above the rest. They are the most powerful of Xia’s elite, upper-class; Members of its upper-echelon of society who hold great dominion and control over various facets of Xian existence. These range from the duplicitous Roodaka, CEO of the all-powerful Vortixx Industries; To Turaga Dume, the powerful and authoritarian dictator of Artidax; And Nicron, the incredibly wealthy banker and economist of Stelt.

But amongst the Powers That Be, there exists a group of six individuals; Hidden beings elusive from the sight of the public and even most Xian nobles. These select six have had their faces hidden for millennia, and are the most powerful of the Powers That Be. Even the likes of Roodaka and Dume must bow before their absolute and total power, because these shadowed figures control the Codrex; The Eternal Engine and Xia’s primary source of power. No army could hope to match theirs if it doesn’t have any power to run on, and for this reason and more, these six individuals reign supreme as the most powerful Xians in existence, and arguably Xia’s true ‘kings’.

Their name? The Barraki- The warlords of Xian past, who led and fought their armies in the War of Six Kingdoms… Approximately eight-hundred years ago.

Centuries ago, before Xia began its industrial revolution, there existed six warlords of rising power; Pridak, Ehlek, Carapar, Kalmah, Mantax, and Takadox. These up-start conquerers succeeded in building empires larger than any other seen in Xian history, absorbing and assimilating neighboring kingdoms into their arsenal and establishing total control. Their famed visages were spread across their respective empires, with statues and offerings and other forms of tribute dedicated to them. The six Barraki were regarded as the most powerful Xians in all the land, and to some, were practically gods.

The Barraki were momentous, with all of Xia more or less gathered beneath at least one of them; Something never before seen with any other empires in history. A select few groups retained independence, such as the nomadic Skull Raiders or the northern kingdom of Iconox; But generally speaking, wherever one stepped, they would be within the borders of a Barraki’s empire.

Predictably, the Barraki were not sated with just a sixth of Xia; And upon encountering the empires of one another, declared war. Each hoped to have total control over the entire island, and be forever remembered throughout Xia as THE Xian Emperor. Thus ensued the War of Six Kingdoms, by far Xia’s bloodiest and most brutal conflict. Young soldiers were freshly-churned out and slaughtered, villages and cities erected before being burned down, as the Barraki directed the entirety of their kingdoms’ efforts towards conquest.

But one day, just as the War of Six Kingdoms began to reach a stalemate; The Barraki vanished, seemingly from thin air. Decapitated and leaderless, their empires collapsed as others attempted to take control in the ensuing vacuum of power. Six kingdoms fractured into many more, and eventually, the dust settled and Xia resumed its normal business prior to the creation and expansion of the Barraki.

Shortly afterwards, Xia’s industrial revolution began. Inventors and engineers began devising brilliant schematics for powerful machines that could change the face of Xian industry, mechanizing the process of mass-production. Factories were built and devised, and complex technology and lights spread that relied on electricity and other intricate forms of energy to be fueled. Xia itself became engulfed in this wave of technology, reliant on the machines that made up the island itself; And in turn, the entire island of Xia became dependent on the Codrex, the Eternal Engine that powered it all.

Despite conspiracy theories, the Barraki did not die; If anything, they ascended. Rumors of a massive ‘treasure’ at the core of Xia, a secret worth dying over, reached their ears. Eager for an advantage over the others, the Barraki set out in the dead of night with a small group of their most trusted followers and attendants, and explored the caverns below Xia. There, they came across one another, and after a brief conflict, the six Barraki headed off alone to Xia’s core.

There, they found a titanic, metallic sphere; An ancient machination potentially older than Xia itself, located within its heart. Entranced, the six Barraki recognized that they had found something larger and grander than even all of them combined; And so they reached out and touched it.

Like the Great Forge of Okoto, the Codrex activated –or perhaps reactivated- at the touch of six, powerful souls. In a burst of energy, the Codrex’s mechanisms began to turn, generating pure energy that had no outlet to go, building up.

Upon being struck by the flash of energy, the Barraki were changed. Like the Mask Makers who awakened the Great Forge, they were imbued with pure Life energy that rendered them immortal beings with superhuman qualities and attributes. Feeling the raw power coursing through their veins, the Barraki realized they had found Xia’s greatest secret; And like any secret, it would cease to be a secret if everyone knew of it.

A quiet agreement was made over blood that night, signed with the massacre of all their nearby attendees and servants to keep quiet. The six immortal Barraki agreed to go into hiding; It seemed that the best way to rule Xia with the Codrex was to do it from the shadows. If their subjects saw them last eternally throughout the decades without aging, inevitably people would try to find out the truth of their immortality; And in turn, they would learn of the Codrex. Thus, the Barraki must remain hidden, to the chagrin of some like Pridak or Kalmah- Although Mantax and Takadox were perfectly fine with this.

Through proxies and puppets, they contacted engineers and inventors. By analyzing the Codrex’s ancient mechanisms, these inventors were able to reverse-engineer the Eternal Engine and create advanced forms of technology. A great city was established and founded, right above the Codrex, and its powerful machines and factories all got their power from massive underground cables connected to the Eternal Engine below. The Barraki began to rule through proxy, puppet-leaders, often assassinating minions once they had reached their usefulness and trading them out for fresh blood; No one could truly be trusted at this point.

And as that famous city of legend grew and expanded, the knowledge of its technology spread. The rest of Xia began to industrialize, and more cities allied with that City of Legends, sharing in its massive swathes of infinite energy, none the wiser as to its source. All of Xia became rooted in technology, separating further into a strict lower and upper-class. To compete with anyone else, a Xian must have powerful technology; But that technology was useless without an energy source. And by controlling Xia’s main source of energy, the Barraki had total dominion over the entire island…

Since then, the Barraki have ruled from the shadows, guiding Xian politics, economics, and so forth. They have influenced and swayed Xian culture from the shadows, directing upper-class nobles and elites from the darkness. Only the most esteemed of the Powers That Be know of their existence, and it is a true privilege to meet the Barraki first-hand and learn of the six who control all of Xia.

Xia became more or less ‘conquered’, save for the district of Zakaz; But that needed to remain lawless, so as to create a thriving wartime industry. Inevitably, the Barraki found themselves bored, having found total control, but being unable to flaunt it. They wished for more lands to conquer, but there was nothing beyond Xia except the endless oceans and their raging hurricanes.

Then came Kratakal, the Rahkshi from Okoto. Through the son of Makuta, the Barraki learned of another land out there; The mythical island of Okoto, a natural paradise of spirits, elements, and power. It was a land brimming with life-energy, the very thing that the Codrex generated, the very power that made the Barraki immortal. They saw the reality-warping abilities of the Kraata and became obsessed. Plans were discussed of launching a Xian invasion of Okoto, so the Barraki could relive their old glory-days as warlords and conquerers.

Alas, it was not meant to be; The massive hurricanes beyond Xia ensured that travel between islands would be nearly impossible. A small, sleek canister could make the voyage, but ultimately it would be an impractical venture. The likes of Pridak were incensed, not caring about the cost because to the warlords Okoto was THEIR right, as kings entitled to ruling. If it weren’t for that blasted ocean, they could easily invade Okoto; The Brotherhood of Makuta and its swarms of Skull Spiders would be no match for them, they reasoned!

Once again, it seems as if fate smiled upon the Barraki. The Shadowed One, leader of the Dark Hunters, succeeded in hijacking the Codrex right beneath their noses. This would normally be a disaster; But with Makuta’s Mask of Life, The Shadowed One transported the entire island of Xia right next to Okoto, before being foiled by an Okotan expedition and slain by his own lieutenant Lariska. With the Codrex back beneath the Barraki’s control, the island of Okoto was now just beyond the shores of Xia, barely even a few miles away…

Since then, the Barraki have mobilized their armies. They have begun to exercise their authority, pulling together nations, governers, and soldiers to invade Xia. The six warlords, eager to conquer Okoto after all this time, have now kickstarted the Xian-Okotan War. Now, their forces clash with the Okotan Alliance, who stands against their mindless expansion and conquest.

On the side, a Xian rebellion, a revolution unlike any other has begun to brew. With Xians seeing that a better life IS possible through Okoto, many have had enough are choosing to rebel. Thanks to the Okotans, knowledge of the Codrex and its role as Xia’s primary energy-source has spread throughout both lands. Now a rising rebellion is forming across the island, hoping to overthrow the Powers That Be, and leading them is the Order of Mata Nui; a secrective organization that has recently revealed itself and hopes to defeat the Barraki.

With all bets off the table, the Barraki have revealed themselves. And while many question how these six warlords are alive after all this time –with some theorizing them to just be impostors- there are those who know the truth. The Mask Makers Ekimu and Makuta recognize the effects that an ancient machination has had on those six, having felt identical immortality themselves.

While the Barraki lead a war against the Okotan Alliance, they also lead a war against the rebellion; The Core War, named after the primary objective of the Eternal Engine. Whoever controls the Codrex, controls Xia’s power and thus the entire island by consequence. The Barraki are incensed by the blatant insolence of their subjects, and hope to suppress them. In the process, they have formed a tenuous alliance with the Brotherhood of Makuta. The Barraki know that Makuta is not to be trusted, and likely intends to betray them (they have their own plans vice-versa)… But regardless, the Brotherhood wants the Okotan Alliance gone, and so do the Barraki.

These aligning interests are for the best; With the Brotherhood’s capture and execution of Kratakal, they now control the Kraata and the means of creating them. And without Kraata, the Barraki can’t power their Exo-Toa armies. Thus, the Brotherhood and Barraki are allied, and under Makuta’s orders, Roodaka is producing Exo-Toa and various other war machines for the six warlords at a fraction of the cost. Together, the Barraki will take over Okoto; And in time, they will prepare for Makuta’s inevitable betrayal, and deal with the Mask Hoarder later.

After all, that fool couldn’t even conquer an entire island! Meanwhile the Barraki have control over Xia, AND will soon dominate Okoto. Soon… for now, they are secretly paying the Nynrah Ghosts and other engineers to create ‘bootleg’ forms of Kraata energy and wave-lengths, hoping to find a way of powering the Exo-Toa without the Power Serpents. Kraata are simply life-energy, and the Codrex produces this constantly; All they need to do is replicate that special wavelength, and perhaps they’ll be able to power their Exo-Toa without need of the Brotherhood!

Once THAT happens… They’ll be prepared to eventually betray Makuta. But for the timebeing, that upstart failure has his uses.

There are six Barraki warlords;

Pridak is the self-appointed leader of the Barraki, a title that means little practically-speaking. Easily the proudest and arrogant of them all, Pridak believes it his divine right to rule and conquer, having clawed his way from the bottom and arriving at the top. Thus, he believes all his victories are earned, and that more are due to him. Pridak is a ruthless, vicious individual with a penchant for bloodshed and a love for battle. He is hot-headed and can kill subordinates on a whim before perceieved slights against his godly honor. Nevertheless, he can still manage to be practical… It frustrated him when he couldn’t invade Okoto at first, but he nevertheless listened to reason. How else could he be such a brilliant tactician, having created the largest empire of the Barraki?

Suave, confident, and charismatic- These all describe Pridak. He believes himself to be the peak and pinnacle of physical being, and it is not hard to see why; He loves posing for paintings and sculptures. A few parties have seen him roam around entirely naked for guests to enjoy his beautiful, sculpted physique. Pridak is terrifying and intense, and demands total loyalty from guests and minions; Once, he ordered a noble to kill her husband to prove her loyalty to him, reasoning that words meant little without actions to back them up. Pridak is entertained in combat and loves to personally participate in it, enjoying a good fight as well as brutally tearing apart his enemies.

Takadox is a beautiful, dazzling Barraki. Once a pharaoh in the deserts of Zakaz, even before he found the Codrex he had scarlet eyes; Enchanting eyes of psychedelic beauty, like staring into a kaleidoscope of colors. Since his beginnings, Takadox has had the unique ability to hypnotize others, and since becoming immortal those abilities have become even more powerful. Through hypnosis, clever manipulation, and ruling through proxies, Takadox was able to back-stab his way to the top.

He is an incredibly charming and distracting individual, with a beautiful voice like a siren’s. Takadox is musically-gifted, and it is considered the greatest honor to listen to him sing. Takadox is both a composer and a conductor, having penned brilliant works of music before leading orchestras of the most skilled musicians into playing them. Much pressure is put upon performers to convey his music, and failure can mean execution.

Takadox loves to treat others as puppets, toys, and play-things, utilizing his hypnosis to completely control servants. He has employed it upon performers to better control them, and he greatly enjoys forcing people to do things they never would through hypnosis; It makes Takadox feel powerful and superior. He is a natural sadist, making his slaves do his bidding and exhausting them to the point of death, knowing they can’t refuse, and has had many he has hypnotized –ranging from servants to nobles that have angered him- dance for his amusement. Takadox has used his hypnosis to access the secrets of others, and values total control over anything else. A master-manipulator, he doesn’t need to be flashy, and is fine with pulling the strings from the shadows.

Ehlek is a Lekara; A race of aquatic beings found both on Xia and Okoto. Ehlek succeeded in uniting the Lekara clans scattered around Xia’s shores, rivers, and lakes, uniting them beneath his banner and controlling most of the island’s water-source. By controlling the waterways, transport between his empire was the fastest and most efficient, making up for a geographically smaller size; Ehlek managed to expand his armies beyond the shores by inducting kingdoms bordering him, but regardless it seems his specialty was in the water.

Ehlek is aware of his outsider-status as a non-human among the Barraki, and knows that they underestimate him for allegedly being limited to the water. However, Ehlek understands that water is also the essence of life, and far-outdwarfs the land with its oceans; He believes that in the end, HIS armies will rule, expanding into the vast oceans while his fellow Barraki remain isolated on comparatively tiny islands.

He is a high-strung, short-tempered individual, capable of bearing grudges eternally. Ehlek has a tendency to lash out bitterly at those he perceieves as having wronged him, or even just for having things that he does not. Since his ascension as an immortal Barraki, his temper has cooled; But he can nevertheless be an impulsive, wrathful leader, and he has employed incredibly brutal executions in the past, being a person with little trust.

Hailing from darker regions of Xia, Mantax and his people were taught by necessity to hide and lurk in the shadows, striking rapidly and concisely. A master of stealth and assassination, Mantax led an army of samurai against his rivals, with his own personal clans of shinobi to perform murders on select individuals. Mantax is a stern, secretive individual; He is the least socially-inclined of the Barraki and not much for small-talk, always keeping an eye out for danger. For everyone he meets, he makes sure to understand exactly how to kill them should the need arise; To Mantax, he has no friends or allies, merely enemies he hasn’t killed yet.

Easily the most elusive of the Barraki, Mantax is an incredibly patient and cautious warlord. He knows when to cut his losses and retreat, and prefers subtlety and being unknown. He appears the least to nobles in formal events, instead using his time gathering information on others, surveying Xia, and training his own fighting skills. Information and secrets are the key to victory for Mantax, and he is always vigilant and keeping a close-eye on is fellow Barraki. To call him paranoid may not be entirely correct, as it would imply that Mantax’s wariness is unfounded.

Carapar is a loud, boisterous, and seemingly-agreeable individual. He hailed from the steppes and plains of Xia, leading nomadic tribes on horseback as he swiftly raided, conquered, and pillaged his enemies’ settlements. Carapar is proud of his raw, physical strength and prowess, being the largest of the Barraki. Unlike the others, he likes to be seen as approachable and amicable, like a friendly politician who will gladly shake one’s hand and brightly smile at them. But beware- Carapar is at heart a treacherous, cunning individual with a mind for dirty tactics. He has no honor, and will resort to any trick in order to win; Once, he violated the rules of parlay with an enemy tribe, poisoning the food at their feast to ensure his victory. Yes, there were also children present at that feast; But he does not care.

While his tactics can be subtle, by the end of the day Carapar is a brute in how he considers others. Since his rise to power as an immortal Barraki, Carapar has often visited subordinates unprompted, hoping to charismatically pull them into his circle of supposed trust. He has led frequent hunts with honored guests, occasionally heading into Nynrah to kill Vorox and take them as trophies; He has a penchant for displaying the heads of creatures, and even sapient enemies, that he has slain. Sometimes a servant will exceed his patience, and Carapar will drop the façade entirely before bluntly getting his point across.

Kalmah is a hedonist, an emperor who once led legions of centurions to conquest. Now, he throws the most lavish, extravagant parties; According to him, he fought for the right to be a king, so it only makes sense that he lives like one. Kalmah prizes luxury, wearing the finest threads, all while greedily hoarding wealth. The flashiest of the Barraki, Kalmah suffers from frequent boredom and will hold brutal games and gladiator matches in the Coliseum Atero, all for his personal amusement.

He has a penchant for the finer things in life, such as delicious cuisine, and he has a zoo of exotic animals and beasts, many of whom are the last of their king, and others from Okoto itself. Unfortunately, Kalmah is also a sadist, and he enjoys subjecting his pets to cruelty. Sometimes he’ll feed others to them, or force nobles or servants that have displeased them into facing off against beasts in the arena. Kalmah can be loud and spoiled about what he wants, and believes himself worthy of praise. He enjoys parades, and would rather not dirty his own hands, being displeased with the ‘lesser’ facets of life and preferring servants do the deed for him. Kalmah is highly possessive of his wealth, and to have his own possessions dirtied is a personal insult to him by extension in his eyes.

The six Barraki wielded armor and weaponry in the past; Since their ascension amongst the Powers That Be, they have since taken to wearing more modern clothing. Nevertheless, they’ll still dress up every now and then, either to show off or train and hone their combat skills, ensuring they remain sharp as ever. And with the recent Xian-Okotan War, the Barraki have begun to don and wield their old armor and weapons like the good old times…

In combat, Pridak wields his Shark Tooth Blades; A pair of incredibly-sharp swords, said to be crafted from hundreds of carefully-compressed shark teeth. They are of a beautiful craftsmanship, and capable of scarring even Protosteel; Weapons befitting of a king, in Pridak’s eyes. Pridak’s Shark Tooth Blades of a beautiful ivory that is stark-white, an identical coloration to his armor.

Takadox wields a pair of long, thin blades that are slightly-curved at the end; He prefers to hold them upside-down, as part of his confusing, dance-like fighting style. Ehlek has a pair of Protosteel tri-talons that he attaches to either hand, to shred opponents with. Mantax wields a long sword, but also prefers daggers and hooks. Carpar has a wide, dual-edged blade, while Kalmah relies on a pair of whips in combat, as well as a crossbow, preferring to keep his opponents at arms-length.

As a whole, the Barraki jointly-rule Xia as part of the League of Six Kingdoms. They hold the most wealth and stocks in just about every property and company out there, and their authority is absolute. With a snap of their fingers, they could rend an entire city razed, and there is no one who is permitted to disobey them. Even incredibly secure locations like the Archives must fully-yield to the authority of a Barraki, who is immune to rules that are normally uniform amongst all.

The Barraki have orchestrated Xian politics to ensure an oligarcy with them at the top, keeping workers in line while having a select group of nobles for their upper-class. Xia is structured to leech as much power and wealth as possible from the island and its inhabitants, with even a war-time economy established in the district of Zakaz. To those that know them, they are truly the most terrifying people in existence; Servants are usually dominated by the most advanced and loyal of machines.

Those who ARE alive are tied to their masters for life, with their living quarters established upon the various properties, mansions, and villas that the Barraki own. They regularly trade out servants and puppet-leaders, but the pay from them is also very good at least. Each of them have quarters in the Coliseum Atero’s tower, and at its peak is a meeting room for war-strategies and other important events. Among those who know them, the Barraki often host extravagant events to flaunt their power and wealth, and will occasionally sharpen their skills in combat against desperate slaves and the like. Just about every powerful Xian on the island answers to them, and is vulnerable to their control over the island’s power-supply.

#bionicle #bionicle rae #barraki #pridak #kalmah #takadox #ehlek #mantax #carapar #xia #lekara

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fanyiyimdzs · 4 years ago

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Mo Dao Zu Shi: Chapter 7

Masterpost

Previous chapter

In the end, after caressing his ring for a time, Jiang Cheng forced his hostile emotions down.

Though he was very unhappy, he was a Clan Chief and had to consider the repercussions of his actions. He couldn’t be impulsive like boys such as Jin Ling. The decline of the Qinghe Nie Clan had left only Three Great Clans remaining, and among them, the Lanling Jin Clan and the Gusu Lan Clan were the closest due to the deep personal bond between their two chiefs. On the other hand, Jiang Cheng controlled the Yunmeng Jiang Clan alone, and his clan was relatively isolated. Hanguang Jun Lan Wangji was a highly distinguished figure in the cultivation world, and his elder brother, Zewu Jun Lan Xichen, was the Chief of the Gusu Lan Clan. The two brothers had a strong, harmonious relationship—if Jiang Cheng didn’t need to destroy his standing with them, it was best not to.

Moreover, Jiang Cheng’s sword Sandu1 had never truly met Lan Wangji’s Bichen in battle, thus the final outcome of such a clash was unclear. And though he had the mighty ring “Zidian”2 around his finger, Lan Wangji’s “Wangji”3 qin also had a fearsome reputation. Jiang Cheng couldn’t tolerate being at a disadvantage—without complete assurance of his victory, he wouldn’t consider fighting Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng stopped stroking the ring and slowly withdrew his left hand. It seemed Second Master Lan was intent on intervening, so continuing to play the villain would cause him trouble. For now, he would simply remember this incident. Done weighing the pros and cons, Jiang Cheng turned and saw Jin Ling still angrily covering his mouth. “Just accept Hanguang Jun’s punishment this one time. After all, the opportunity to discipline another clan’s disciples is a rare one indeed.”

His tone was sneering, but it was unclear who he was sneering at. Lan Wangji never opened his mouth in response to such provocations—he merely acted as though he hadn’t heard it. Jiang Cheng’s next words were wrapped in thorns. “Why are you still standing there? Are you waiting for prey to rush toward you and stick themselves on your sword? If you can’t capture whatever’s living in Dafan Mountain, don’t ever come see me again!”

Jin Ling shot Wei Wuxian a venomous glare, but he didn’t have the courage to glare at Lan Wangji, the one responsible for his forced silence. Placing his sword back into its scabbard, he made polite goodbyes to the two seniors opposite him and retreated with his bow in hand. Lan Sizhui said, “Chief Jiang, the Gusu Lan Clan will of course return the exact number of spirit-binding nets that were destroyed.”

Jiang Cheng smiled coldly. “No need!” He chose to reverse course and take a leisurely stroll down the mountain. His disciples followed behind him silently, their faces miserable and marked with anxiety, knowing that when they returned, there would be no way to avoid their Clan Chief’s wrath.

Once their silhouettes disappeared in the distance, Lan Jingyi said, “How could Chief Jiang act like that?!” Only once he finished did he remember the House Lan’s prohibitions against speaking about someone behind their backs. Scared, he glanced at Hanguang Jun, closed his mouth, and shuffled backwards. Lan Sizhui smiled slightly at Wei Wuxian and said, “Young Master Mo, we meet again.”

Wei Wuxian pulled on the corners of his lips. But Lan Wangji opened his mouth and issued a command. It was clear and concise, free of any ornamentation. “Complete your task.”

Only then did the flock of juniors remember why they had come to Dafan Mountain. Placing any other thoughts at the back of their minds, they reverently awaited further instructions. A few moments later, Lan Wangji spoke again, “Try your hardest. No recklessness.”

His voice was low and magnetic. The heart of anyone standing near enough would undoubtedly tremble upon hearing it. The juniors obediently followed Hanguang Jun’s orders and walked deeper into the mountain forests, too afraid to linger. Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan were truly completely different people, Wei Wuxian thought. Even the advice and the warnings they gave their juniors were completely contrary. As he was pondering this, Lan Wangji suddenly gave him a slight, almost invisible nod, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but become slightly dazed.

Ever since he was young, Lan Wangji had been so serious and deadpan it made Wei Wuxian’s head hurt. He was grave, inflexible, and seemed like he had never had a spontaneous moment in his life. Defects of behavior were like grains of sand in his eyes; he couldn’t stand them. Thus, he had met the news that Wei Wuxian had taken up demonic cultivation with the harshest disapproval. But Lan Sizhui should have already informed Lan Wangji about Mo Xuanyu’s suspicious behavior at Mo Manor, yet the senior Lan had still nodded in greeting—most likely to thank him for helping the Lan juniors with their earlier trouble. Without thinking, Wei Wuxian returned the greeting. But when he lifted his head again, even Lan Wangji’s shadow had disappeared.

After a pause, he turned around and began to walk back down the mountain.

No matter what kind of prey was lurking around Dafan Mountain, he couldn’t pursue it. If Wei Wuxian was going to fight anyone over it, he wouldn’t fight Jin Ling.

It had really been Jin Ling.

Wei Wuxian had not expected that, of all the Lanling Jin Clan’s disciples, he would happen to run into Jin Ling. If he had known, how could he have used words like “you weren’t raised by a mother” to mock the boy? If someone else had said such a thing, he would have made them understand exactly what “bringing disaster upon yourself” meant. But the one who had spoken them was Wei Wuxian himself.

After a moment of stillness, he lifted his hand and slapped himself in the face.

The slap resonated inside his skull, and his right cheek stung from the force of it. Suddenly, the bushes beside him rustled. When Wei Wuxian glanced at the source of the noise, a donkey’s head emerged through the leaves, and, for once, the donkey shuffled towards Wei Wuxian’s hanging hand out of its own free will. He pulled on its long ears and laughed bitterly. “You wanted to save the pretty maiden, but forced me to play the hero.”

As the donkey whined and grumbled, a wave of cultivators crested over the mountain slope, heading directly towards them. Once every one of the four hundred spirit-binding nets had been cut by Lan Wangji’s flying blade, all the cultivators who had originally loitered around Fojiao Village began surging up the mountain. All of these people could be considered Jin Ling’s competitors, so Wei Wuxian briefly considered forcing them to retreat again. But in the end, he quietly let them pass.

Dressed in a random assortment of house colours, the crowd of disciples grumbled loudly as they climbed. “Both House Jin and House Jiang spoil that Young Master Jin rotten. Even at his young age, he’s already so arrogant and tyrannical. In the future, if the Lanling Jin Clan falls into his hands, it’ll only end in upheaval and rebellion. We might as well die!”

Wei Wuxian slowed.

A soft-hearted female cultivator sighed.“But how could they not spoil him? He lost both his mother and father at such a young age.”

“Ah, sister, you can’t talk like that. So what if both his mother and father are gone? The world is full of people who’ve lost both their parents—if everyone acted like he does, it would be a catastrophe!”

“Wei Wuxian sure went after whoever he wanted. Jin Ling’s mother was none other than Jiang Cheng’s sister by blood, and the one who had looked after him since he was small.”

“Jiang Yanli was so unlucky to have raised such an ungrateful, wild dog. Jin Zixuan had it even worse. Look at how horribly he ended up, just because he and Wei Wuxian once had a few petty feuds.”

“It seems like everyone had some kind of feud with him…”

“Exactly. Other than the crazed wolves he raised, have you ever heard of him having a good relationship with anyone? He has enemies everywhere—he’s pretty much despised by all of the earth and the heavens! Even Hanguang Jun and him hated each other on sight, like fire and water.”

“Speaking of which, if it hadn’t been for Hanguang Jun today…”

Wei Wuxian walked for a while, when suddenly, the soft sound of a running creek streamed into his ears.

He hadn’t heard this noise when he had walked up the mountain. Only now did he realize he had forked off onto the some other route on his way down.

Holding onto the donkey’s reins, he approached the creek. The moon shined through the branches overhead, on which not a single leaf hung to offer cover. The water in the middle of the creek was choppy and frosty white. Glancing at his reflection, Wei Wuxian saw a face that changed unpredictably with the flow of the water.

Viciously, he slapped the surface with his open palm and shattered his absurd, comical visage. Raising his dripping hand, he began rubbing off the powder with the creek water.

It took only a few scoops. When his reflection appeared again, he saw a very elegant and handsome young man. Now clean, his face looked as though it had been bathed in moonlight. His brows were relaxed, his eyes clear and bright, and the corners of his mouth were upturned into a slight smile. But as he was bowed over the creek, intently examining his reflection, the beads of water decorating his lashes seemed like endlessly falling teardrops.

This face was young and strange. It wasn’t the face which had once drowned the earth and overturned the heavens, nor the face that caused foul winds to blow and hot blood to pour from the skies above. It wasn’t the Old Yiling Master Wei Wuxian’s face.

After staring at this face for a long while, Wei Wuxian rubbed it again a few more times, massaged his eyes, and thudded back onto the shore.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t endure others’ harsh tongues and nasty words. After all, when he had first made his decision, he had understood perfectly clearly the kind of road that lay ahead. His mind had long reminded him: remember the motto of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan—“attempt the impossible.”

Only, he had believed his heart to be an unmovable stone. Yet, in the end, humans were not rocks or vegetation.

The little donkey seemed to recognise his low mood and, for once, didn’t impatiently moan and bray. After a moment of silence, it whipped around and began walking away. But Wei Wuxian continued sitting by the creekside, displaying no reaction, so it glanced back at him and stomped its hooves. Still, Wei Wuxian ignored it. Angry, the donkey could only return, bite down on the front of his robes, and drag him away.

Leaving or staying, either was fine to Wei Wuxian, but since the donkey was now pulling him with its teeth, he figured he might as well follow. The donkey hauled him beneath a few trees, then paced in circles around a patch of vegetation. Within the underbrush, a qiankun4 bag was quietly hidden. A ruined golden net hung above his head: some unfortunate cultivator had almost certainly dropped the bag as they struggled free of the trap. Wei Wuxian picked it up and took a look inside. It contained quite a few miscellaneous items, such as gourds of medicinal wine, talismans, little fae-reflecting mirrors, and so on.

After digging through it for a while, he grabbed a talisman, which suddenly burst into flame in his hand.

The talisman had a yin-ignition seal written on it, which, as the name implies, automatically ignited upon contact with yin energy. The stronger the yin energy, the bigger the fire. Since it started burning as soon as Wei Wuxian had removed it from the bag, there had to be a dark spirit nearby.

As soon as he had seen the firelight, Wei Wuxian’s attention became concentrated on guarding against the spirit. Lifting the talisman, he tried waving it around in different directions. Turning east, the fire dimmed, whereas turning west, the flames suddenly jumped up higher and higher. He walked a few steps in that direction and saw a stooped, white figure emerge under a nearby tree.

Ashes fell from Wei Wuxian’s fingertips as the paper burned completely up. The figure was an elderly man with his back turned on him, muttering.

As Wei Wuxian slowly drew near, the old man’s mutterings became clearer.

“Ah, it hurts, it hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?” Wei Wuxian asked.

The old man replied, “Ah, my head. My head. It’s my head.”

“Let me see,” Wei Wuxian said.

He walked a few steps to the old man’s side and saw a bloody red hole in the middle of his forehead. This was a dead soul, and the murderer had probably killed him by smashing some kind of weapon into his skull. He wore burial clothes of high quality material and strong craftsmanship, which meant he had already been properly interred. This wasn’t the lost soul of some living person.

But this kind of soul shouldn’t be appearing on Dafan Mountain.

It defied all logic, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t come up with any explanation. But it was anything but reassuring. He hopped onto the donkey’s back, slapped its hindquarters, gave a holler, and spurred it onwards towards the place where Jin Ling had gone up the mountain.

Many cultivators dithered around the old burial mound, intent on waiting for their prey to show up on its own rather than taking decisive action. Some of them had bravely raised a yin summoning flag, but it only attracted a swarm of spirits who did nothing except wail so loudly all of the earth and sky could hear them. Pulling on the donkey’s reins, Wei Wuxian glanced around and asked in a clear, bright voice, “Excuse me, could you please tell me something? Where did the little Masters from House Jin and House Lan go?”

Now that he had washed his face, one of the cultivators responded promptly. “They left this place and went to the Shrine of the Heavenly Maiden.”

“Shrine of the Heavenly Maiden?” Wei Wuxian said.

After the family of cultivators he had saved heard about the destruction of the spirit-binding nets, they quietly snuck up the mountain again, and were also among the people who had gathered to patrol the old burial grounds. The middle aged man, seeing Wei Wuxian’s clothes and his toothy donkey, thought Wei Wuxian was probably the lunatic who had rescued them earlier. Quite embarrassed, he pretended nothing had happened, but the round-faced young woman pointed and gave directions: “Over there. It’s a shrine inside a cave in the mountain.”

Wei Wuxian questioned her more closely, “Which divinity was the temple built for?”

The round-faced young woman said, “I think—I think the statue of the heavenly maiden appeared naturally.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. “Thank you very much.”

He rushed to the shrine at once.

The marriage of the lazy bum, the lightning strike that had split open coffins, the fiancé who had been bitten to death by wolves, the successive loss of the souls of a father and daughter, the beautiful burial clothes…they were like matching pearls finally strung together. No wonder the evil wind compasses hadn’t picked up anything. The yin summoning flags were even more useless. They had all underestimated the thing on Dafan Mountain.

It wasn’t at all what they thought it was!

_________________

1 “Sandu” (三毒) literally means “three poisons.”

2 “Zidian” (紫电) literally means “violet electricity.”

3 “Wangji” (忘机) literally means “above earthly concerns.”

4 “Qiankun” (乾坤) literally means “heaven and earth.”

Masterpost

#mo dao zu shi #MDZS #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj

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seahaloed · 4 years ago

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A List of Faces and Titles Found In Dreams, Part 1:

The Dragon Prophet:

Images of Andraste have been present to Kios from the time she was very young. In her dreams the Maker’s Bride often takes the form of a massive High Dragon, ranging in colors from a stark white, to a golden color. Images of Andraste in her dreams were often images found in the Chant, stained glass, or other texts though adjusted as if Andraste was always a dragon.

As such, Kios does believes that the Dragon found at Haven during the events of the Blight is Andraste reincarnated, or at least a little bit of her. She refuses to kill the dragon.

[companions below the cut]

The Griffon King (Alternatively The King of Aerials):

Starting from age 10 Kios saw spotty visions of a figure she came to call “The Griffon King”. It was a man, whose face was obscured by silverite griffon wings, wearing the Ferelden royal crown, a golden halo crested with more wings behind his head. The armor and clothing he wore would often change, but as she grew older and knew what info to seek out in order to decode her own dreams, she knew that she was dreaming of a Grey Warden.

She was plagued with many versions of this man’s death; from seeing him beheaded, taken by an inky black ocean that was the consistency of blood, to him kneeling among an endless amount of clay cups with the stench of alcohol.

Kios realized this man was Alistair after he admitted to his lineage as Maric’s son. She does not reveal to him the nature of her dreams.

“Dear Friend”:

“Dear Friend” is one of Kios’s oldest visions, and perhaps one she had prior to entering the Circle of Magi. When older, she assumed that “Dear Friend” was Wynne, but only after the events of Kinloch does Kios realize that “Dear Friend” has been the Spirit of Faith that has guided and followed Wynne.

“Dear Friend” manifested in Kios’s dreams as a near humanoid shape, holding many ropes wrapped around either arm that seemed to run endlessly. Kios eventually interprets this as the Spirit of Faith holding Wynne’s body together from dying.

Mirrored Eyes:

Less of one specific entity, animals with eyes for mirrors would manifest periodically. They often seemed to have a planned intent.

The only inkling that Kios eventually got was a vision of a three mirror eyed raven or crow (she can’t tell the damn difference) with a gold chain tangled around one of it’s legs flying away from a visage of Denerim aflame.

During the events of Witch Hunt does she finally realize that mirror eyed animals are usually in reference to Morrigan. If Morrigan drinks from the Well in Inquisition, any other visions will have those mirrored eyes turn gold.

The Masked Woman:

Leliana was perhaps one of the easiest to discern after meeting her. Kios watched how Leliana so easily shifted depending on the social situation she was in, on top of Leliana’s Orleasian ancestry? It was easy.

The Masked Girl/Woman is a figure that had been with Kios from a very young age as well. The Masked Woman was often pursued in Kios’s dreams by a shadowy figure who wore a mask similar in design to what the top half of a Pride demon’s face/skull looks like.

This shadowy figure would eventually be revealed to be Marjorie.

Dogs of War:

Many manifest as dogs of war, and these people are usually soldiers, though others simply manifest in this way to show the amount of destruction or carnage they can or have caused. Dreams featuring dogs of war are usually completely devoid of sound other than a constant echoing, overlapping sound of barking.

Duncan and Loghain most prominently have manifested as Dogs of War.

Loghain appeared as one might imagine the Black Shuck might. The identity of Loghain was not difficult to figure out, as he started to appear in Kios’s prophetic dreams only a few weeks prior to her eventual recruitment into the Wardens. He was clad in his armor, wrapped in an old version of the Ferelden Rebellion flag, often gripping either a bloodied or burning Orleasian royal heraldry.

Kios only ever had two dreams about Duncan. One the night before she was recruited, and one the night before Duncan died, and she cannot recall either of them in detail.

#body horror tw #eye horror tw #Ask to Tag #Codex Entries #||look to the sky where the sign will be shown|| (canon: Kios Surana)

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crestartist · 6 years ago

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Black v Red: The Blood War

The following is the origin story of the Black and Red Diamond characters:

The Legend of the “Blood War”:

Black Diamond vs. Red Diamond

10,000 years ago, the colony of Earth was founded by its original master, Black Diamond. Legend states that when White was born from the remnants of a star, Black was formed from the endless darkness of a black hole. Twin founders of Homeworld and its people, they are yin and yang, Life and Death. Soon came Yellow, Blue, Pink and Red Diamond, and each contributed her own to the creation of a new society on the barren planet. All the while, Black too had mothered her own creations as well, who lived in the shadows, waiting to destroy it all. In the burgeoning Gem culture, however, even destruction and death held a purpose in their society.

In reality, Black was not a god, but a vampire. Made of darkness, she could not be nourished by light like her bright sister, but instead found a source of energy from within their own children. Like the story of Kronos humans would later create, Black Diamond would eat Gems; specifically, she would feast on a Gem’s “blood”, the life-giving fluid that formed the gem originally, still encased in the hardened shape itself. Black’s fangs could penetrate the surface and dissolve the solid core back into its liquid state. This actually proved useful to the Diamonds, to effectively eliminate their flawed or obsolete creations. Like the dreaded human monster she would inspire, the Diamond could also make slaves of those she did not completely kill. This is what she did to Black Pearl, the first and only Gem Ghoul, her master’s strong and obedient puppet.

Black Diamond’s cruel and fearsome reputation grew as the Diamonds decided to expand their empire. Black’s army, “The Crystal Skulls”, were brutally efficient killers, eliminating an organic planet’s population sometimes within days. They were led by the skeletal visage of Obsidian, and included the lupine Howlite, the chiropteran Bloodstone, arachnid Sphalerite, the demonic duo of Sulfur and Brimstone, and the deceitful Black Sapphire. As her death march continued through the universe, the vampire’s arrogance grew as well. She ruled Homeworld through fear, even from her fellow Diamonds. Despite her unquestioned tyrannical superiority, Black had never claimed ownership of a Gem colony, until the eon’s long imperial conquests had entered the Milky Way galaxy, and the invaders discovered the resource rich planet of Earth.

Earth was populated by a unique, primitive and superstitious type of intelligent organic life, human beings. Black Diamond and her gems developed a particularly sadistic interest in the primates’ developed sense of fear. Feeling like her own horrific playground, the Death Diamond quickly staked her claim of the new colony. Feeling invincible, Black defies procedure and instead focuses on exploiting the emotions of her new conquests rather than preparing the planet for a Gem colony. She and “The Crystal Skulls” run rampant across Earth, inciting chaos and fear so great, it is passed across generations of humans, inspiring the myths for legendary creatures like werewolves and demons. When details of the chaotic rebellion reaches the Diamond Authority on Homeworld; courtesy of Pink’s feline spy, Tiger’s Eye, the sisters were incensed. Made livid by her open defiance, Blue and Yellow decide it’s finally time to take action against the elder Diamond. White is indecisive, conflicted over the thought of destroying a fellow Diamond, and twin at that. Yellow Diamond then seizes command, and declares war against the monstrous Black Diamond. Truth be told though, her sisters still regarded the vampire with fear and had some doubts whether their own gems could defeat the army terrorizing Earth. That’s when the remaining Diamond Authority calls upon an unlikely hero, Red Diamond.

Red was known as the “Blood Diamond”, and was the youngest and smallest of her brethren, a complement to the compassionate yet child-like Pink Diamond. She held little authority because of this, and thrived on Homeworld in the capacity of a spiritual healer, especially for those injured by Black and her nightmarish creations. With the addition of Red’s own enlightened soldiers, “The Vermillion Vanguard”; led by the Dragon warrior Cinnabar and including the original water elemental, Coral, Yellow knew Red had the greatest chance of resisting Black, after White herself. Like her close companion, Pink, Red Diamond felt inferior to her elder sisters, and longed for a chance to prove her power. Believing the attack on Earth to be that moment, the Blood Diamond eagerly accepted the task, despite an overwhelming fear of the Death Diamond’s reputation. Knowing that the fate of the empire laid on her diminutive shoulders however, that fear swiftly transformed into rage and hatred, and the first war for Earth; later known as “The Blood War”, began.

Though not as lengthy or memorable as the Rose Quartz Rebellion that would follow in the coming millennia, the conflict between Black and Red Diamond still left an impact, most prominently on the human population, who became both witnesses and casualties. The arrival of “The Vermillion Vanguard” and their equally monstrous, yet heroic members, further ignited early humanity’s imagination, inspiring the stories of not only more monsters, but gods and saviors that would be passed through to written language and beyond. Stories of struggles with overcoming impossible odds against seemingly immortal foes, fallen soldiers rising from the dead and legions of monsters spreading chaos and destruction being challenged by figures coming down from the sky. For centuries, Death and Blood were blind to all the ramifications being wrought by their endless struggle, fueled by power and rage. Observing it all from her base, White Diamond’s personal struggle became overbearing. She was torn by her feelings of loyalty and love for the Diamonds and their Gem children, and by her logical and strategic side that begged for her to prevent the loss of the highly valuable colony. The current generations of Homeworld still believe that the mental conflict became so great within her, that White would never be the same. In her madness, she decides it is time to end to the war, permanently.

White Diamond dispatches her ultimate warrior; the archangel fusion of the angelic solder White Quartz and the brilliant yet fierce metallic alchemist gargoyle, Silver, Angel Aura Quartz, to use her power on the Earth gems. In what the humans would later interpret as “Final Judgement”, Angel Aura’s power spread over the battlefield, shattering those who were corrupted by the hand of Black Diamond, and sparing those who selflessly risked their lives against them. The shining Quartz’s attack did not spare the Diamonds themselves either. Black and Red were not shattered, but rather rendered inert, robbed of their physical forms and conscious thought, buried by the ravages of time.

The survivors; Cinnabar, Coral, Spessartine, Pigeon Blood Ruby and Hematite, who are better known as the mighty fusion Sunstone, Red Phantom Quartz, Tiger’s Eye and Orange Sapphire, would all find renewed purpose and occasionally new forms, on Homeworld. Even though not all survived to the current era, their stories and reputations remain both on their original planet and the organic Earth that still stands nearly unchanged to this day. Ultimately, the Diamonds as well would not be forgotten in either place. After being hidden for millennia, both the inactive shapes of Red and Black Diamond were uncovered by humans in the twentieth century. Renowned for their beauty, the handlers were unaware that remnants of the Diamonds’ powers remained, and the aura of the gems would affect their lives. The small Red Diamond earned the moniker “The Red Shield”, and is known for its continuing protective abilities, while in contrast, the Black “Orlov Diamond” gained infamy for causing tragedy and misfortune. Only on Homeworld do their true origins remain spoken, serving as a warning to those who defy White Diamond.

#GEMSONA OCTOBER PROMPT #fanfic #steven universe #black diamond #red diamond #horror #halloween #the blood war #black v red

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asktheadeptus · 7 years ago

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Armageddon Steel Legion

Heroes of Armageddon! You have withstood the evil savagery of the Orks, and they have left nothing for you to fear. So raise high the black banners of vengeance—now is our time.— Commissar Yarrick during the Third War for Armageddon

The Armageddon Steel Legion is the Militarum Regimentum of the Astra Militarum that fights as mechanized infantry alongside Chimera armoured personnel carriers in defense of the strategically-located Imperial Hive World Armageddon and its surrounding star systems. Armageddon, located in the Segmentum Solar, was a planet blighted and poisoned by millennia of heavy industrial output, though it was also a major manufacturing center. In the late 41st Millennium Armageddon became a constant battleground between the Imperial Guard's Steel Legion and the countless Ork hordes of the Warboss Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka.

Regimental History

Regiments of the Astra Militarum vary widely from one world to the next. Civilisation, training, and technology levels are wildly varied from one culture to another within the Imperium of Man, resulting in forces mounted on horseback and carrying spears next to elite troops bearing advanced Grav-Chutes deploying from Valkyrie Assault Carriers. Within these parameters, large formations of mechanized infantry are very uncommon within the Imperial Guard. The reason for this rarity is that the resources required to equip and maintain vast numbers of armoured vehicles are difficult to acquire, even for such personages as Imperial Commanders and Planetary Governors. Typically, gathering so many war machines also requires a pact or agreement with the Adeptus Mechanicus, for it is the Tech-priests and Enginseers of Mars who ensure that these vehicles can operate (and be repaired should they suffer damage) in the heat of battle.

The most well-known and renowned of the rare few mechanized infantry regiments in the Imperium are those founded upon the Hive World of Armageddon. Whilst some Astra Militarum formations rely upon horses or other such conventional steeds, the Steel Legions of Armageddon ride into battle as mounted infantry within the hulls of their trusted Chimera armoured transports. The high numbers of Chimeras amongst the Steel Legion regiments is due to the highly industrialized nature of their homeworld. Armageddon is one of the foremost manufacturing planets for Chimeras and produces vast numbers of this vehicle for use across the Imperium of Man. So great is Armageddon's output of Chimeras that an extremely high proportion of regiments raised from that world are mechanized infantry. These highly mobile forces are skilled at rapidly redeploying convoys of vehicles to engage the enemy. Often, the Steel Legion's vehicles simply overrun the enemy's front lines, allowing the infantry to dismount and sweep the area clear of aggressors.

The ash wastes of Armageddon are filled with corrosive toxins and industrial pollution. Were a man to breathe the air outside of Armageddon's hive cities for any extended period his lungs would quickly rot. Despite this, Armageddon has a massive population and is capable of raising a large number of Imperial Guard regiments. Indeed, at the height of the Second War for Armageddon more regiments were being raised each standard year from the population of Armageddon than from any two other worlds in the entire Segmentum Solar combined. The people of Armageddon are therefore no strangers to warfare. They give no quarter and expect none in return.

Perhaps the most renowned of Armageddon's soldiery are the Steel Legion mechanized infantry regiments. While it is difficult for most Imperial commanders and Planetary Governors to obtain and maintain enough of the vehicles needed for such formations, Armageddon has produced hundreds of these swift-moving regiments. The extremely industrialized nature of Armageddon means that a far higher proportion of its regiments are mechanized infantry. It is for this reason that these mobile regiments were given their moniker "Steel Legion."

All soldiers within the Steel Legions wear protective clothing such as trench coats, gloves and visors so as to minimize the exposure to their world's polluted atmosphere. Most notably, every trooper carries a rebreather unit capable of filtering out the worst of the airborne poisons. The rebreathers of senior officers are often fashioned in the visage of a grinning skull in an attempt to unnerve the superstitious Orks that have ravaged their war-torn homeworld in recent years. The warriors of Armageddon reserve a particular hatred for the Orks, who in their lust for war have smashed whole hive cities asunder, and whose presence continues to plague the planet.

Many of the Steel Legion troopers are drafted from amongst the crammed populations of Armageddon's massive hive cities, where only the ruthless survive the ceaseless and brutal gang wars. Many of the Armageddon underhive's most notorious gangs are conscripted directly into the Imperial Guard, without the need for any additional training -- their ruthless skills proving more than adequate.

All regiments drawn from Armageddon reap the spoils of the planet's enormous manufactoria, which work ceaselessly to produce the vast quantities of armaments needed to equip so many soldiers. The constant demand for more materiel has transformed Armageddon into an unequaled industrial behemoth. Not only are Lasguns, vehicles and war machines produced at an incredible rate, but they are of exemplary quality, honed to perfection after millions of iterations.

In the ongoing Third War for Armageddon, native regiments have been deployed in almost every major battle against the returning Greenskin hordes. None have been more grueling than the siege at Hive Acheron, where Imperial forces, Orks and now daemons are locked in a maelstrom of bloodshed and destruction as they fight for control of Armageddon's primary hive city. Millions from each side crowd the ash wastes around the planet's capital, supported by armoured columns as well as towering Gargants and Titans. An unending rain of explosive shells falls from on high, with the artillery targets shifting as control of the gun emplacements changes hands. Deep within Acheron itself, covert Kill-teams traverse the vast lattice of Promethium pipes that riddles the hive, hoping to circumvent the enemy's defenses. Hundreds of Armageddon infantry, armoured and artillery regiments have taken part in this perpetual siege, and their tenacity and expertise at fighting in the ash wastes has seen them fare better than many other Imperial forces. In fact, the mechanized regiments of the Steel Legion have had more Guardsmen survive their first hour of combat at Hive Acheron than any other of Armageddon's regiments

Cassell Rebellion

The Cassell Rebellion, also known as the "Six Hour Revolution" for its short duration, took place on the Agri-World of Cassell in 776.M36. Cassell was ruled by an Imperial cult called the Way of the Emperor's Flesh. The Planetary Governor, Supreme Pontiff Skalin, was known for possessing eccentric views but was otherwise regarded as loyal to the Imperium and reliable. However, rumours began to circulate that Skalin believed that his cult was the only true faith of the God-Emperor and the rest of the Imperium should be made to recognize this.

When these rumours reached Colonel Kleist of the Armageddon 16th Steel Legion, which at that time was stationed on Cassell following exemplary service in the Lotharn Campaign, he petitioned the Administratum for permission to investigate the Supreme Pontiff. Before that authority could be received, Kleist's hand was forced when Skalin renounced the authority of the High Lords of Terra and called on all Cassellians to join a crusade to bring the Way of the Emperor's Flesh to the rest of the Emperor's domain.

With his regiments already mobilised, Kleist was able to bring the rebellion under control before it could spread. Less than a solar hour after Skalin's announcement, 16th Steel Legion Chimeras were rolling out of the regiment's encampment and marching on the planetary capital, Port Cassell. The defenders of Port Cassell were ill-equipped to face an armoured assault, and the capital's main gate soon fell to the Loyalists. Kleist split his forces into two columns, with the smaller sent to capture the city's spaceport and communications center, and the larger led by Kleist himself to assault the Divine Palace of the Supreme Pontiff. The Palace was guarded by the majority of Skalin's bodyguard and his only armoured vehicle, an ageing Leman Russ Tank. Nevertheless, the 16th Steel Legion quickly overwhelmed the defenders and captured the Pontiff. After less the six solar hours, the Cassell Rebellion was over before it could fully take root.

The Wars for Armageddon

The citizens of Armageddon are no strangers to brutal warfare. Their world has suffered greatly during the 41st Millennium at the hands of invaders throughout no less than three devastating wars launched by the enemies of humanity. The Steel Legion played a major role in all of them.

First War for Armageddon (444.M41)

Few records exist of the event known as the First War for Armageddon, as much of it has been utterly purged by agents of the Inquisition. Fragments that remain describe a world gripped by a massive daemonic incursion. The foul daemons of Chaos were defeated only at great cost by heroes such as the Great Wolf Logan Grimnar of the Space Wolves Chapter and his valiant Space Marines. Some whisper that the world and many surrounding systems were purged in the aftermath of this invasion, and that the feared Daemonhunters of the Chamber Militant of the Inquisition's Ordo Malleus -- the Grey Knights -- were somehow involved.

Second War for Armageddon (941.M41)

Warboss Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, quite possibly one of the most charismatic and dangerous Ork Warlords in the galaxy, led a massive WAAAGH! of Orks to invade Armageddon, starting the Second War for Armageddon in 941.M41. Warp Storms prevented Imperial reinforcements from reaching the embattled world, forcing Armageddon's defenders to fight alone against the Greenskin onslaught. Making things exceptionally worse for the defenders was the incredibly dangerous incompetence displayed by the planet's Imperial Commander, Overlord Herman von Strab. The war was costly, causing enormous casualties amongst the planet’s population, and it was only due to the heroic efforts of the legendary Commissar Sebastian Yarrick at Hive Hades that the forces of Armageddon were able to hold the line. Fortunately, other valiant Imperial forces were eventually able to make planetfall and support Commissar Yarrick and the Steel Legions. Space Marines from the Blood Angels, Salamanders, and Ultramarines Chapters threw back the Orks in several engagements, and the Titans of the Legio Metallica fought bitterly with Ork Gargants across Armageddon's surface. In the end, the Warp distortions blocking access to Armageddon abated, and fresh reinforcements arrived to help secure the planet's warzones. Warboss Ghazghkull left Armageddon to gather his strength and plan a new invasion, vowing revenge against Commissar Yarrick.

Third War for Armageddon (998.M41-Present)

More than fifty standard years after the Second War for Armageddon, Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka launched a new onslaught against the planet, the Third War for Armageddon. This time, Ghazghkull had made alliances with other notable Orks, such as the fierce Nazdreg Ug Urdgrub and the diabolically clever Mekboy, Orkimedes. An enormous Ork fleet soon arrived in the Armageddon Sector, smashing into the heroic but hideously outnumbered warships comprising the Imperial Navy's Battlefleet Armageddon. While the Ork fleet arrived in the Armageddon System, Commissar Yarrick had taken command of the Imperial forces on Armageddon itself and hastily organised a plan to prepare for the coming invasion. The Imperium was not without its defenders -- Titan Legions, Space Marines, and the Sisters of Battle reinforced Armageddon's existing defenses alongside the forces of the Imperial Guard. Ork Roks (hollowed-out asteroids with crude steering mechanisms) smashed into Armageddon's surface and disgorged massive hordes of Greenskins. Meanwhile, alien forces and heavy equipment -- including many Ork Gargants and other massive war machines -- arrived directly on the planet via the Orks' "tellyporta" technology. After the initial assault, the Third War for Armageddon bogged down into a large number of individual clashes between the Orks and the Imperials. Frustrated by the growing stalemate of the war, Ghazghull left the planet to seek other, greater battles, closely pursued by Commissar Yarrick. Battles still rage upon the surface of Armageddon between both sides, with no end in sight.

The Spinward Front

So far, Lord Marshal Ghanzorik has deployed Armageddon Steel Legion regiments into only a handful of warzones in the Spinward Front in the Periphery Sub-sector of the Calixis Sector in the Segmentum Obscurus. These regiments have mustered at the world of Cyclopea to assist with the tithe preparations there to muster new Imperial Guard forces, and from there they were sent to the Departmento Munitorum depot on Ganf Magna to assist with operations against the Feral Ork tribes plaguing that world. The Armageddon Steel Legion regiments operating on Ganf Magna recently received an unexpected benefit. Due to a bureaucratic error somewhere in the byzantine organisation of the Departmento Munitorum, a large number of Deathstrike Missile Launchers were mistakenly routed to the Steel Legion mustering areas on Ganf Magna. The Guardsmen from Armageddon have embraced this addition to their nominal strength and are relishing the opportunity to use such devastating weapons.

Regimental Organisation

The Hive World of Armageddon, like most of its ilk, consists of huge ash wastes choked with toxic pollutants and corrosive chemicals. Some regions of the planet consist of jungles and oceans, but the pervasive effects of industrial pollution are inescapable outside of the world's great hive cities. Teeming with humanity, Armageddon's hives are not simply manufacturing centers -- they are also packed with the crowded workers and overseers necessary to keep the massive industrial complex running. These conditions give rise to a seemingly endless series of savage gang wars that erupt regularly amongst the underclasses on Armageddon. Many recruits into the Steel Legions are taken directly from veterans of these brutal struggles for dominance of the underhive, as only the fiercest and most implacable gangers manage to survive and even thrive upon the carnage. The gangs of Armageddon are sometimes conscripted en masse into the Steel Legions, and it is said that most of these gangs require little to no additional training to be effective soldiers. In fact, some squads that were formerly gangers excel at inventive and cunning small-unit tactics on the battlefield.

The Steel Legion is sometimes supported by conscripted platoons of Planetary Defense Force troops and Ratling sniper teams. The Guardsmen of the Steel Legion wear uniforms that include a mustard yellow great coat, gas masks to protect themselves from Armageddon's toxic environment, and rounded helmets over black infantry fatigues. The Guardsmen of the Steel Legion, in addition to their Lasguns, make use of Grenade Launchers and Missile Launchers as heavy weapons. Their regiments are supported not only by Chimeras, but also by Leman Russ Executioner main battle tanks.

Training

The troopers of the Armageddon Steel Legion are particularly skilled in the arts of deploying mechanized infantry and have a special expertise at battling Orks. In addition, Guardsman from Armageddon make fine assault troops for fighting in urban and hive city environments as well as heavy industrial zones, chemical sumps, and other such toxic regions. Their equipment and experience with such acrid environments make them invaluable for trudging through all sorts of polluted or otherwise noxious wastelands, from underhives filled with the toxic residue of ancient atomic generators to ruin-filled swamps rife with hallucinogenic flora, quicksand, and near-invisible pockets of lethal gas.

Wargear

So toxic are the ash wastes of Armageddon that a man breathing its air freely would feel his lungs begin to melt and rot away. It is for this reason that the Armageddon Steel Legions are heavily protected against toxic and polluted environments. Each Steel Legion soldier wears a protective trench coat, gloves, and a visor to keep his exposure to the corrosive atmosphere at a minimum. Possibly the most iconic piece of gear for the Steel Legion is the re-breather unit carried by every trooper. These units are capable of filtering out the worst effects of any airborne poisons and are the primary reason that many Steel Legion Guardsmen have survived doing battle upon the ash wastes. Senior officers have re-breathers that are often shaped into a mask similar to that of a grinning skull. The Guardsmen of the Steel Legion are not the only things protected from venomous environments within these regiments. Throughout the Steel Legions, all vehicles are fully enclosed and possess airtight seals to ward passengers from the foul and acidic atmosphere encountered by convoys traversing the ash wastes. The Steel Legion takes special care to protect their mighty banners, each one hung with trophies of honour and no small amount of Ork kill markers. These banners are coated with highly resistant materials in an attempt to preserve them from the wastelands' acidic decay.

A standard Armageddon Steel Legion Guardsman will be outfitted with the following wargear:

M36 Pattern Lasgun - Produced in a multitude of different styles and patterns, the Lasgun can be found in use on almost every world of the Imperium. The M36 Pattern is one of the most ubiquitous patterns of Lasgun in use by the Imperial Guard, and has long been the standard weapon issued to the troops of the Armageddon Steel Legion regiments.

4 Lasgun Charge Packs - Charge packs are powerful batteries used almost exclusively by Imperial laser weapons. The cost of a charge pack varies depending on the class of the weapon. In all cases, it provides shots equal to the weapon's full clip value.

Flak Armour - The most common type of armour used by Imperial Guard forces is Flak Armour, and it is standard-issue combat gear to the countless millions of Imperial Guardsmen who fight on the Emperor's behalf across the galaxy. Many layers of ablative and impact absorbent material go into making each suit, enough to deflect or negate most low-level attacks such as small arms, shrapnel, and proximity blasts. Solid hits from high impact weapons can generally negate it, but given that it is relatively lightweight, cheap to produce, and dependable in most combat situations, many veterans keep using it even when offered something better.

Mono Knife - The Mono Knife is a one-handed melee implement is the ubiquitous back-up weapon for warriors all across the Imperium, be they lowly hive scum or the elite soldiers of a Planetary Governor. Some, such as the Catachan Fighting Knife, are designed for a specific purpose, whilst others are more generic in nature. The Mono Knives utilized by the Death Korps of Krieg are specially fashioned blades with superfine edges that can easily cut through armour and never lose their edge. These knives are carried by all by all members of the Death Korps as both a bayonet and a field tool.

Armageddon Steel Legion Imperial Guard Uniform - The Armageddon Steel Legion uniform consists of a chemically-treated toxic-resistant trench coat, usually worn buckled along the chest, a helmet with special straps and lockplates for the Armageddon Pattern Rebreather that every soldier is issued. Additionally, soldiers of the Steel Legion wear thick, toxic-resistant gloves and boots, a basic set of trousers and an undershirt. Unusually, the fabric and condition of these uniforms are quite standard, thanks to the standard resources. of their highly industrialized home world.

Toxic-Resistant Trenchcoat - Each Guardsman of the Armageddon Steel Legions is equipped with a toxic-resistant trench coat, boots, and gloves. The specially-treated gear protects a Guardsmen from the most polluted or chemically toxic environments.

Armageddon Pattern Re-breather - Designed to keep the wearer alive in even the most noxious atmosphere, this re-breather consists of a mask (often shaped like a skull for senior officers) connected by hose to a small air supply. A character wearing an Armageddon Pattern Re-breather is immune to the effects of gases and issues of air quality, and can even survive underwater at limited depths. The air canister lasts for two full hours before requiring replacement.

4 Empty Sandbags

M39 Entrenching Tool

4 Frag Grenades - Frag Grenades use a combustible charge and special fillers of shrapnel fragments which make them potent anti-personnel weapons. Imperial Frag Grenades are roughly the size of a clenched fist and covered with a heavily notched shell, both to increase the shrapnel produced and provide a more secure grip for throwing.

2 Photon Flash Grenades - Photon Flash Grenades detonate like a small star, blinding anyone nearby and bright enough to overload primitive vision protection systems. Anyone within 15 meters of a photon flash grenade when it detonates will be temporarily blinded.

2 Smoke Grenades - Smoke grenades release a dense smoke which only obscures basic eyesight and optical based systems. They do not block detection systems that use heat or other spectral bands outside of normal human eyesight, but are much more widely available and easier to construct.

Poor Weather Gear

Rucksack

Basic Toolkit

Mess Kit and Water Canteen

2 week's Rations

Blanket and Sleeping Bag

Rechargeable Lamp Pack - Sturdy and reliable, glow-globes illuminate many an Imperial paveway and cathedral. Most portable ones are roughly the size of a clenched fist and can shine strong, yellowish light a dozen or so meters in width, lasting roughly five hours before their power pack needs recharging or replacing.

Grooming Kit

Dog Tags

Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer - A standard-issue Imperial text that covers a vast variety of topics, this book is possessed by all members of the Imperial Guard as part of their standard-issue equipment. The Primer is a basic guide that details everything a Guardsman needs to know: principles and regulations of the Imperial Guard, issued arms, attire, apparatus, and equipment, basic battlefield policy and Imperial Guard organisation and structure, elementary battlefield medical instructions, and a detailed guide on the foes of the Imperium. No Guardsman should ever be found without possession of a copy of the Uplifting Primer for the punishment is severe.

Source: http://warhammer40k.wikia.com

#warhammer 40k #horus heresy #adeptus astartes #adepta sororitas #adeptus mechanicus #adeptus custodes #adeptus arbites #astra militarum #Adeptus Astra Telepathica #officio assassinorum

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firewolfsg · 7 years ago

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Another Demon!Veers AU :3

For @white-rainbowff @mistressminako @festeringsilence 😊 Thanks for letting me play with your characters.

(Italics from The Last Command by Timothy Zahn)

Thrawn was sitting upright in his chair, his face strangely calm. In the middle of his chest, a dark red stain was spreading across the spotless white of his Grand Admiral’s uniform. Glittering in the centre of the stain was the tip of Rukh’s assassin’s knife.

Thrawn caught his eye; and to Pellaeon’s astonishment, the Grand Admiral smiled. “But,” he whispered, “it was so artistically done.”

The smile faded. The glow in his eyes did likewise … and Thrawn, the last Grand Admiral, was--

Time stood still. Thrawn frowned, the growing pain and weakness which had been dragging his consciousness into the abyss seemed to have-- ceased... He had been ready for death... tired as he was... feeling all 71 of his years alive… Carrying on as he had with little heart but out of duty for his people... Seizing the moment to regroup the remnants of Palpatine's Empire to create the strong nation he preferred to be the ally his people needed against the Far Outsiders.

However, the universe apparently had little desire for that grand plan. The Rebellion had clearly prevailed and the double-edged sword that was the Nohgri's loyalty had finally turned upon him.

His only regret was not knowing how the Empire's treachery had been revealed to them.

"Ch’eo vur..."

That voice... Much loved... Missed... Thrawn could not say how he managed to muster the strength to turn towards it. "Max...

No... He did not even have the strength to hiss with the anger that overtook the pain in his chest. "Demon..."

Thrawn gazed upon the visage of a man achingly familiar though a clear impossibility. This was a face he had not seen in some two, or was it three decades. Brown hair, square jawed, beautiful hazel eyes, smooth youthful skin untouched by age or any blemish… An impossibility.

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo… Ch’eo vur…”

A blink, or was it two? Thrawn couldn’t tell, for somehow this apparition was now kneeling beside his command chair with a hand carding through his hair with a soft touch that was so familiar, but this was wrong… so wrong. For Maximillian Veers—the real Maximillian Veers did not have long, jagged horns of ebony and emerald arching from the sides of his skull. And at this close range, Thrawn could now well see the bluish green lines of dark veins upon the being’s sculpted swell of sinewy muscle.

“I have told you before, Demon… Do NOT use his voice.” He rasped through the pain in his heart which he wasn’t quite sure was only physical. Didn’t Rukh’s blade pierce him through the heart? Why wasn’t he dead yet? Where was Pellaeon—?

Oh… Just beyond this nightmare kneeling before him, Thrawn could see the Captain frozen in his stance of horrified shock. Time—was time so easy for this demon spawn to manipulate?

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo…” The back of a hand stroking over his cheek, brought his attention to this being again. “After all this time, can you still not believe me when I tell you that this *is* *my* voice?”

He was too tired to argue that age old point once more. “Tarkin… Palpatine.. both died… your masters are gone… Why did you remain, Demon?”

“Their deaths only freed me, Ch’eo vur.”

“Stop calling me that! You are not him!” Thrawn could feel flakes of blood drip from his lips even as the pain surged in his chest for his mortal wound.

His vision was for a moment whited out from the agony. And Thrawn flashed back upon that fateful day of soul crushing despair, when he was told that his beloved had died on Hoth. Then the days and weeks of numbness which followed as he tried to—to care about his own existence again. Of the concern showed by his hovering staff, and the quiet reminders from the trusted few to remember that his people were depending on him to cultivate and develop a strong ally in their defence against the Far Outsiders.

A month of quiet depression, Thrawn remembered he had allowed himself to grieve before he was ready to move on, only to be faced by the worst betrayal his so-called concerned superiors had ever inflicted upon him. Tarkin… Palpatine… The abomination they had raised through dark arts in the flesh of his beloved.

A triumphant Demon General of War. An arrogant, uncaring fiend, hungry only for the bright souls of slaughter, be it rebel or civilian. This self-important, conceited monster which presented itself to him upon its first successful mission and insisted—demanded for his promised consort.

Was it chance he was in Lord Vader’s presence that first time the demon came calling? Thrawn never questioned it. The Sith Lord had shielded Thrawn and held the demon back even as it howled and demanded its just reward for returning from the dead and fulfilling its masters’ orders.

From Colonel Yularen’s files, Captain Parck and Commander Niriz had quickly secured the Admonitor which became Thrawn’s Sanctuary from the demon. It had come to him between campaigns to demand… to plead its case… to cry for his trust and understanding…

He could not stand to face it… this abomination that wore his beloved’s face… Thrawn had suspected Lord Vader’s interference in gaining the Emperor’s understanding to at last allow him to flee into the Unknown Region with his fleet.

It had come to him one last time on the edge of the Unknown Region. Tired… defeated… sorrowful… And for a tiny moment, he had seen Max in its still hazel eyes as it promised to let him go, and to not to chase after him.

In his long years of exploration and expansionary work in the Unknown Regions, Thrawn had forgotten about Max… about the protections… That was why the demon could approach him now in the Chimera.

The gentle brushing of a hand on his cheek brought his attention back to the present. The pain was gone. There was only numbness now from his chest downwards.

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo, please?”

“I have no protectors now, demon…” He rasped, feeling more blood flake upon his lips and a trickle begin to drip from the corner of his mouth. “And—no more strength to resist… I cannot fight you.”

“I will not take you without your leave.”

“Really? You tried so many times.”

“When I was still mind addled by demonic influence.” Max’s cheeky smile shone down upon him. “I’ve matured since then. You’ve warned me of that before—about old age?”

“Age—and maturity…” Thrawn could feel his lips lift at the corners. He had been feeling his age lately. At 71, his hair was beginning to be streaked in white. Before he left Parck to return from the Unknown Region to investigate the Empire’s sudden silence, the man had teased him about letting the white show, and finally embracing the ‘title’ of venerable.

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Ch'eo—beloved, please. Let me save you.”

He felt moisture upon his face, it made him frown. The blur before him came back into focus to let him look upon a tearful visage. Oh… This… he looked so familiar… These hazel eyes so filled with love but also suffused with a pain he had never ever wanted to see.

Oh… “Max? Is it—is it really you? Ch’eo vur?”

“Yes, yes! Please? Will you trust me now? Please, I can only hold this stasis for so long.”

Thrawn felt the teardrops kiss his cheeks as he began to believe.

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo… Ch’eo vur…”

“Max… Ch’eo vur…” Thrawn rasped as he gazed up at his love, his General. “Is this it, then? The end?”

“No, no. Not if I have anything to say about it. But— May I?”

“Max?” It was ever so much harder to think.

“I can—I can heal you—remake you, Ch’eo vur. Will you let me?”

Thrawn gazed up at his tearful General. At the periphery of his vision, he thought he saw cracks.

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo… Thrawn!”

He blinked at his General’s distraught face. What? Was he—? Oh? He was asking—

“Please… Ch’eo vur… Don’t leave me to this existence without you. Please…”

Oh… He—why couldn’t he move his lips? This was important…

“Thrawn!”

“Yes.” His last words and breath, quickly swallowed by the mouth that closed upon his lips.

The demon that was Maximillian Veers pulled the body of his love off the assassin’s blade as the world shattered around them with the restoration of time. Pellaeon and the entire bridge of the Chimera recoiled in alarm and fright at the sudden appearance of this massive creature cradling their deceased Grand Admiral in his arms.

“Do not interrupt me.” The demon’s voice was silky, elegant, and otherworldly, thickened with an echo of harmonized voices beneath its surface.

In a blink, Veers cast the time freeze upon them again and in the same movement called forth his Death trooper minions and one special other to surround him and the body of his love. Tarkin gasped as he stumbled to catch his balance and stared upon the demon that was Maximillian Veers.

“Lead the chant.” Veers pointed a clawed finger at the former Grand Moff.

Tarkin stared from Veers to the Chiss in his arms, whose clothes were quickly vanished to reveal an aged body with its life blood dripping down its spine to pool on the floor.

“Minion!”

The words from long ago came to him immediately as he raised the Sith Holocron in his hand. As confused as he was, Tarkin had a sense that in this moment he had little free will. At the back of his mind, he knew—he knew he had died. The Death Star. How? When? That did not matter now. He was brought back for a purpose.

The chanting swelled with the voices of the Death troopers that surrounded them as the Sith Holocron rose from Tarkin’s hand. The familiar / unfamiliar moment when they had brought Maximillian Veers back so many years ago.

A swirl of black energy emerged from the holocron to sweep over the blood that still dripped from the fatal wound. It seemed to pick up the blood to become a cloud of black and red, eddying around the demon and the Chiss. Veers lifted his head to breathe and suck the cloud into his mouth.

The moment the last wisp of it was inhaled, he bent to close his mouth over Thrawn’s unmoving pale lips. As Tarkin watched, it appeared as if he could see the flow of energy moving from Veer’s mouth to Thrawn’s, down his throat to his chest and radiating from there to the extremities of his body; changing it, remoulding the thin, fragile aged skin, returning bulk to atrophied muscle.

The wound piercing through his back to his chest healed and closed, forming an indigo scar. Serrated ridges of light rose along his spine from neck to tail bone fading to a Burgundy Red. A pair of ridged horns broke through Thrawn’s blue-black hair and grew in a tight circle, looping from temple to cheek.

The chanting ceased. The holocron fell to the floor spent, hitting the floor with a crack in the same moment Thrawn’s body convulsed in its first unholy breath.

Tarkin watched bemused as the time freeze dissipated and the terrified bridge crew stared at the two demons sitting in their midst while the Death Troopers faded away. Thrawn was still heaving deep gulps of air as he was held, still nude in the protective embrace of his love while the General gently brushed velvet from the Chiss’ new twisted horns, revealing onyx black shot through with cracks of shining cerulean.

As their audience watched, the Grand Admiral had brought his breathing under control to look up into the hazel eyes of his General.

“Ch’eo vur.” Words whispered together; otherworldly and thickened with harmonized voices echoing in the silence of the bridge. Their lips meeting in a kiss which told of time too long apart, and the promise of centuries more together.

Despite the chaos of battle outside, Pellaeon found it hard to raise his voice to say anything to interrupt this—reunion. It was difficult for him to even register the fact that their Grand Admiral wasn—hadn’t died!

But still— “Gr —Grand Admiral?”

Both Thrawn and Veers turned to face him, making Pellaeon flinch for the fury that lit the eyes of the Demon General. “I thought I said no interr—"

“Max! We *are* in the middle of a pitch battle.” Thrawn pushed himself out of Veer’s arms to stand in all his nude glory; and truly, this—decades youthened body was stunning.

A quick glance around at the near salivating gaze of the bridge crew told Tarkin that the Chiss could still turn eyes, even with the slight demonic turn in his appearance; much like Veers had. A fact the demon General was clearly not happy with as he noticed and glared around him at the staring eyes of the men and women surrounding them.

Thrawn did not blush when he noticed the attention. Instead, he threw the leering Veers an annoyed look and with a snap of his fingers restored their usual uniforms, making the General pout for the cover up.

“We deal with this first.”

“I waited—”

“So, a few more hours are nothing in comparison.” Grand Admiral Thrawn strode to the back of his command chair and pulled out the assassin’s knife before he took his seat again.

Twirling the blade in his hand, he offered it hilt first to Veers. “Would you take care of this for me, Ch’eo vur? While I see to that?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The Demon General’s hazel eyes glowed with green fury as he seized the knife with one hand.

With his other hand though, Veers grabbed upon one of Thrawn’s horns to pull him closer into a soul devouring kiss. One of Thrawn’s hand had initially curled around the General’s shoulder, with his claws cutting into the fabric of the green uniform. But it soon reluctantly let go to move to the centre of the Veer’s chest to push him away.

“Later, Max. We have a battle to finish first.”

“Do NOT take your time, Mitth'raw'nuruodo.”

“I dislike wasting lives, Max.” Demon Grand Admiral Thrawn turned his gaze upon the screens and around the bridge, the human crew could be heard to inhale sharply or gasp as they felt the touch of a foreign entity upon their mind.

Their Grand Admiral’s voice whispered in their brain. “Come, my people. We have a war to win.”

@;-‘-,-

“Wilhuff?” Tarkin turned to face Veers who had approached him as the bridge crew of the Chimera collectively ignored them. “I will not apologise.”

Tarkin looked at his hands, no longer old and crippled with start of arthritis. “The tables are turned now, Master and Minion. But I have no complaints… And I can’t say I will apologise for bringing you back either.”

“You are mostly human.”

“Mostly?”

“Not changed to the extent that—” Veers casually waved at both himself and Thrawn.

“Do you hear me complaining?” Tarkin thoughtfully felt his face to confirm for himself that the wrinkles were gone.

“No.” Veers grinned at him. “So… care for a bit of hunting?”

Tarkin grinned at him wolfishly. “Will you supply me with decent equipment?”

“The best I can create.” Veers gave him a blaster rifle and a heavy blaster pistol.

“Then let us harvest some souls for you and teach the Noghri that it was unwise for them to betray the Empire.”

--------

Tarkin made an unexpected appearance as I was typing this :3

Hope this was entertaining angst.

#demon!veers #Angst #demon resurrection #mitth'raw'nurodo #maximilian veers #thrawn x veers #Thrawn

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calledstrength-a-blog · 7 years ago

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some things about crown prince of essetir au

he is raised as gwalchmei, son of lot, an errant warlord in essetir that skirts just that fine line between being threatening enough to not be taken lightly & holding back enough to not provoke extreme action ( * from cenred specifically ). he’s raised to be cruel. he’s raised with that little seed of anger that has always existed inside of him being cultivated into a flickering flame & being encouraged until it’s this bright, malignant dark star that just rests inside of his amber eyes. he’s smaller than lot would have liked. he wanted a strong son who could crack men’s skulls open with his bare hands. instead he gets a snake who grows up within the den of lions. gwalchmei inherits all of lot’s brutality, but grows up clever, not strong.

when cenred overextends himself & is killed, lot is swift to take over. he’s be poised to attack for years, his son gwal whispering softly in his ear that lot need only be patient. that cenred is a strong king but has sown the seeds of his destruction long ago & that all they need to do is stand aside & mop up the messy bits once everything is said & done. in the power vacuum, lot’s rule is established quickly & swiftly. gwal stands at his father’s side, cold eyes surveying the kingdom with nothing but hunger.

gwalchmei is a charming man. he’s devilishly handsome with a smile perpetually strung across his lips. he has a bright visage that easily splits open with a welcoming laugh that sounds warm & honey sweet. he has a golden tongue, able to do more with his fair words than most would by force of arms. he can make people fall in love with him just with his almost innocent disposition alone nevermind that he never blinks at the idea of murdering or torturing or making people suffer in order to get what he wants. oh, he can be brutral if he wants. he’s as skilled with a sword as ever, wielding both blade & charm with equal viciousness. it’s just far more impressive to be able to stop a war from happening without drawing a blade.

he has. he has stopped his foolish father from sending everyone to their deaths in his eagerness for the throne. & later he will avoid conflict with camelot with a few winning smiles & thinly veiled threats that weave in his every action & word.

the thing about gwal is that he’s patient. he has wanted to kill his father for ages ( * father says to son: no child of mine will ever wait to be given anything. if you want something, boy, you will take it. by force ). he helps his father become king & while his father sits upon the throne, it is he who goes out the the villages & the the people. it is he who walks through the villages, sowing dissent amongst the populace & turning their uncertainty at the new regent into hatred. he manipulates their affections, never outright calling for a rebellion, but allowing such sentiments to fester. he wins over their hearts with his apparent kinder nature. he’s the one who is with them, who is out there listening to their voices crying out in dissatisfaction over king lot’s rule.

murderer lot is easy. lot has never seen his soft - spoken son as a threat. he’s but a boy in lot’s eyes. his own flesh & blood & who knows the son better than his own father ? gwal kills lot & takes his head, hanging it on the walls of the citadel & the people rejoice.

see how clever this boy is. see how he sows ideas into people’s heads & hearts, making them believe that they were the one who chose this future when it was him who has been playing them all.

gwal is not a cruel king. he’s fair & genuinely invested in essetir & wants to make it a better place. it’s not out of any love for the place, not initially. at first it was from this childish outcry in him that said i am better than my father. it stems from him wanting to prove that he can make a stronger, better kingdom than his father ever could. he listens to the people, is neither lenient nor cruel. he’s never weak & is always this beacon of hope & promise because king gwalchmei would never abandon his people.

gwal has no ambition outside of essetir. if people start encroaching on what is his, he will bear down on them with this deadly seething anger at the very thought of taking what is his. he doesn’t care to conquer anything outside of essetir. doesn’t seek out wars or unnecessary battles. he establishes fairly quickly that what’s his is his. he couldn’t care less about what other people are doing. he drafts peace treaties, makes nice with the other kingdoms, but never paints himself as an ally or enemy. if anything, he’s this neutral contained place that rarely]

you bet your ass magic is legal in essetir. celebrated even. gwalchmei doesn’t know what the fuss is about magic. it’s just magic, calm your tits camelot.

in a very weird way, gwalchmei is actually extremely happy in this world. he’s content with everything in his life. while gwaine would be dropping to his knees, swearing fealty to anyone who shows him kindness or acceptance, gwalchmei is the one who makes others drop to their knees. he knows exactly the type of person he is & instead of running away from it, he embraces himself. he knows he’s not a very good man ( * he laughs at blood, his hands stained with so much & his back crawls with his sins. but he’s completely unbothered ) & so what ? what does that even mean ? he’s going to do what he wants until the end. people can try to cut him down, but he’s never going to go down without a fight.

#i've been talking to nat about it and it is wild #can u believe that in the ~darker au~ things are almost ?? better???#* speculation . ╱ ʷᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳᶦᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ .#* darker tides . ╱ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵃᵐᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᶜᵃˢᶜᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍ ᶜˡᶦᶠᶠˢ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉˡˡᶦᶜᵒˢᵉ ᶦᶜᵉ .

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therewithasmile · 8 years ago

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periculum

AU: in which Sara Ryder was aboard the Nexus instead of the Hyperion. She finds herself in the middle of the Uprising and the target of the rebellion, until a certain Latino pilot saves her -- bringing adrenaline and danger she never realized she craved.

an: will probably expand on this but I don’t know for how long. I just wanted more Reyes Vidal.

She remembers seeing him at the bar, with slicked black hair and hazel eyes. His fingers play with the rim of his glass, swirling a dark liquor in a languid motion. He notices her first, and his lips curve up into a half-crumpled smile. Charming, she thinks, and there’s something youthful in his visage. She can’t help it; she’s mesmerized as he lifts the glass to his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and he lowers his drink with half a sigh and another glance. But she’s not here to be picked up by some handsome man, Latino when it still mattered. Sara Ryder pulls her fingers through her caramel-brown tresses and looks away deliberately, trying her best to ignore that stare that follows her as she picks her way through the bar. And yet halfway through the night, in between the delicious swirl of alcohol and haze of thoughts half-formed as a result, she can’t help but to glance back at the stranger – and the one instance of contact sends electricity cracking down her spine.

When the first rounds of gunfire break out, Sara Ryder had – quite honestly -- seen it all coming.

She ducks when a ping rings out, and she swears she can hear the woosh of a bullet fly too close to her face. Ryder leaps over a crate and slides down, gritting her teeth as she feels the burn of her civvies against the glass flooring. But her desperate lunge hadn’t gotten her far enough, and with a slowly dawning realization, as if in slow motion, Sara realizes she’s still in the cross-fire, too liable to get shot, and if she knew any better – she’d be the first one dead.

That is, until hand firmly grasps her collar, and before she knows what’s happening, she’s yanked out of the way. Just in time, too, as another gunshot rings out, echoing loudly in the mostly abandoned atrium, and the sound of angry voices swell in her absence. Sara herself barely catches her breath before she whips her head around, the cool rush of biotics already focused to her clenched fists, ready to attack –

Until she locks gazes with hazel eyes.

There’s a brief bewilderment in his face, too, eyebags carved deep into his skin as if he hadn’t slept for days. And yet, they crinkle as he smiles – that same crooked smile that she remembers so fleetingly – and his eyebrow arches before he speaks.

“Attacking the person who saved your life?”

Sara exhaled through her nose, lowering her fist. “Sorry. And thank you,” she added as an afterthought.

“No harm done,” says her mysterious saviour, and as she suspected, his voice had a light Spanish accent that she vaguely recalled hearing back in the Milky Way. And then the warmth in his eyes suddenly cools, and he presses his back against the crate that he’d all but shoved them behind, peering around the corner with a grimace. “Didn’t think this was all going to start today,” he says, and it’s almost conversational. “I had a feeling, but not for another week at least.”

Sara thinks she knows what he’s going on about, and she watches as he draws his gun, the magazine hissing as he ejects the clip and smacks a new one in. “Sorry about the roughhousing, by the way. Now, shall we?”

So maybe she doesn’t really know what he’s on about. “Excuse me?”

“We’re getting out of here,” he said unflinchingly, not even turning to acknowledge her as he peers once more around the crate. “Unless you want to stay here and get caught in the crossfire.”

As if on cue, another gunshot rings out, pinging in the hyper-modern atrium of the Nexus. Sara narrows her eyes, despite all of it. Her hands jump to her holster, until she bites back a curse. Of course she didn’t bring her gun – she hadn’t for a couple months while she’d been awakened on the Nexus. Because she trusted the Initiative – and yet, judging by the amount of gunfire she’d heard in the last ten minutes, that was not a sentiment shared by many.

“I’m not going anywhere with someone I don’t know, even if he did save my life,” she says firmly. The dark-haired stranger finally looks back at her, gun cocked and another half-smirk on his face.

“Of course, where are my manners? Reyes Vidal – pilot. Oh and you don’t have to introduce yourself,” he adds. “You’re quite famous on the Nexus aren’t you, Ryder?”

Sara purses her lips. Of course. Vidal’s smile only grows at her scowl. “I’ll keep you safe,” he says, almost diplomatically. “You’re the reason the Rebels have finally opened fire – and it would be terrible if something bad happened to you.”

‘Like my father?’, Sara can’t help but to think bitterly, lip curling at the thought. Her father, who hadn’t shown up yet at the Nexus, who’s absence, along with the Hyperion, was the cause of panic in the first place. She knew what she represented, what her lineage meant, and yet to think that the rebellion was caused because they wanted a shot at her? Sara could see from Vidal’s face that he was watching her process the information. After giving her a few more moments to digest the information before he stood up from his squat. “Time to move, Ryder.”

And with that, he sidled over to the other side of the crate, raising his gun and aimed forward. While her feet may have followed him, her mind was still reeling, trying to process the information. So the rebellion started… because of her? It doesn’t make sense, she thought, as she took the stairs in twos as they ran down to the shuttle system.

“Keep watch, will you?” Vidal’s voice interrupts her from her thoughts, and Sara blinks.

“I’m unarmed,” she says, and she allows her eyes to drift from the jut of his chin and linger on the gun still in his grasp. As if to make his stance more clear, Vidal’s grip only tightens around the grip.

“Now Ryder, I would think that a biotic is simply incapable of being unarmed,” Vidal replies smoothly, but he doesn’t say much as he turns around, omnitool out, fingering codes quicker than Sara could really register. So she sighs and closes her eyes, that ice-cool sensation spreading from her implant and flowing into her limbs. The power concentrates into her hand, and as she clenches it into a fist, she feels the energy spike, as if growing exponentially in her fingertips. But luckily, no one seems to be trying to reach the shuttles – at least right now – and the metallic hiss of the shuttle doors behind her informs her of the successful override.

“You have the codes?” Sara mutters as she unclenches her fist, feeling the power in her fist disperse from its build up. Vidal only turns and smiles, that same oddly crooked smile that she begins to suspect is more than merely mischievous.

They duck into the shuttle after his gesture, and it takes another fancy fiddling with his omnitool before the shuttle doors close. The air around their shuttle vibrates as Sara feels the mass effect technology power around them, and before she knows it, the familiar muted roar of sound faint in her ears. Vidal sighs and leans against a windowed pane, pushing his fingers into his temples.

“They’re trying to kill me,” Sara says slowly, and this time – the implication does sink in. Maybe the gunshot wasn’t random at all; maybe the bullet that was close to skimming the top of her skull was meant to sink between her eyes. Maybe she had always known, and was in denial because – if she were alive, maybe it meant her Dad was. And Scott. And the Hyperion.

Yet she knew the underlying murmurs of doubt, growing louder and louder as days blurred to weeks then months, as hope fizzled to almost a stop upon her awakening. And it was all because –

“—You carry the Pathfinder name,” Vidal said, and for a moment, his voice actually sounds a bit tired. “And yet this is unsurprising – we were always doomed to revert to a carnal understanding of the world. As if you’re a royal princess.”

“And if the rebels kill me, they overthrow the Initiative.” Sara can’t keep the bitterness from her voice, and suddenly she wishes for nothing but a familiar gun, nestled in a familiar holster, to be around her hip. She’s so naïve, she thinks – when she had first awakened, there was lively activity. Happiness, hope, because as the Great Alec Ryder’s daughter, maybe she could fill his shoes when he’d been gone for so long. She’d trusted the Initiative, because it was her people and maybe, just maybe, her father’s baby – and the last thing she’d ever expected were those people she trusted, that were handpicked by her Father and his collaborators, would point a gun to her face.

“Thank you.” Her voice echoes oddly in the shuttle, displaced by the sound of their shuttle whooshing through the network. Vidal only glances at her before flipping his gun to the side.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, almost gravely.

The shuttle doors slide open with a cheerful ding, and the still-flickering blue-purple silhouette of Avina greets them with a wave. Her robotic voice begins to go off, welcoming them to the Docking Bay, but she ignores the wind-chime, overly-enthusiastic voice of the VI and Sara instead raises her fists, pivoting to cover as Vidal begins to move.

“Military training, I like it,” he whistles. And it might’ve been coy had it not been the fact that he’s pointing his gun forward too. Sara merely scoffs, her eyes peeled for the briefest signs of movement. Vidal’s steps suddenly stop, and Sara would’ve crashed into him had his slim fingers not caught the tip of her elbow. She’s only confused for a few moments, as a gravelly voice that was unmistakeably human growls out only two words.

“Surrender Ryder.”

Sara readies her fist, but Vidal’s fingers press more urgently, as if telling her to stop. She feathers an exhale and chances a glance as far as her miniscule head movements and peripheral vision allows – and she sees a man pointing a gun at Vidal and, with she realizes with a jolt, two other men flanking his side doing the same. Sara doesn’t understand what’s fueling Vidal, and she half expects that hand on her elbow to suddenly twist and thrust her in between. She can’t trust anyone here – not without her gun, not without her father and brother by her side.

But Vidal doesn’t suddenly throw her over. Instead, he says a very firm “No”.

And he fires just one round, the sound like a cracking whip and deafening to Sara’s ears. Yet she stills her mind and ignores the ringing that suddenly surrounds her, muscling her instincts in order as she releases the buildup of biotic energy at the other two men. This time, there is a sickening crunch as the two men are thrown backwards – and, to Sara’s shock, two more shots ring out as her targets crumple to the ground, dead.

“I do like your military training,” Vidal says, but Sara ignores him and smacks his arm instead.

“You didn’t have to kill them!”

“No?” Vidal doesn’t seem taken aback, only icily calm as he regards her, hazel eyes no longer warm or amused. “They were going to kill you. And I believe I said I wouldn’t let that happen.”

There’s some sort of expression that crosses his gaze, and for a moment, Sara’s sent back to the time they’d seen each other in the bar. With a jolt, she realizes she can finally place what that feeling was – the odd electricity that shot down her spine, the haze in his eyes that made her heart stutter erratically. It’s danger.

Part of her isn’t sure whether she should be swooning or on her guard, but Vidal seems to not pay much mind as he takes several leaping bounds forward and glance down at the bodies that he’d shot at point blank. He merely curls his lips instead before turning expectantly to her. Doubt begins to seep into her mind – she knows she’s doing something reckless, and certainly her brother would have a lot to say if he could see her now.

But he’s not here. And nor was dad. And she was done being the naïve little girl who was defenseless and too trusting on the Nexus.

Sara merely nods, and another expression flashes into his hazel eyes. There’s another small upturn of his lips as he raises his gun once more, leading her towards the civilian headquarters.

And in what could have been several hours or merely heartbeats, they arrive at the crossroad. But before Sara can question it, Vidal veers to the left, away from the civilian headquarters and towards –

“—The cargo bay?”

“Hmm?” Vidal turns, eyebrows knitting together in an expression that did not fool her. Ryder plants her foot down, though, and refuses to move even as his lips part.

“You’re leaving?” Sara manages.

“Well of course I am,” Vidal responds, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “The Nexus is going to be a shithole – well, more than it already is – and it’s not like staying here will benefit me at all.”

Ah.

She’s stupid, Sara realizes, and though she had just moments ago told herself she was too trusting – she’d done it all over again. Sara always knew she wasn’t ready to be the Pathfinder; she knew that there was too much trust in her and she was simply too trusting. She didn’t even realize she trusted him until now, and if anything it was just another wound, another betrayal during this entire mutiny.

“You’re a rebel.”

“Not quite,” Vidal says. “I’d prefer opportunist.”

“Well, thank you for taking me this far,” Sara says firmly, and before he can take a step towards her, she raised her already-blue fists in anticipation. “I wish you luck getting off-world.”

And there it is again, that half-smile that, now, was much more dubious than she’d originally pegged it to be. “Did I forget to mention?” She notices now that he’s no longer holding his gun in both hands, but merely one; in the other she can faintly make out the glean of metal. An EMP, she realizes, and she knows she’s too late.

“I’m kidnapping you, Ryder.”

By the time Sara wakes up, she realizes with a jolt that she’s on a ship. The safety straps dig uncomfortably into her skin as she tries to wiggle and test her range of movement, both of which proving to be on the fruitless side. With a jolt, she realizes that what’s beyond her range of vision isn’t blackness, but the yawning abyss that was the galaxy.

“Vidal?” She snarls, and a bit of surprise overtakes her as the man himself twists his head around the edge of the pilot seat.

“Ryder,” he merely says, and Sara hates that nothing in his voice is apologetic.

“Let me free.”

“By all means,” Vidal says pleasantly. “You’ll find the release clasp to your right.” Sara blinks and looks down – and she seethes when she sees what he means: the red, innocent release button, tempting like a big button she knows she shouldn’t push. “Sorry for the tightness; didn’t want you to hit your head while you were passed out.”

After the internal debate, Sara absolves that nothing else could really be worse right now. So when she presses the red release clasp, she’s a bit surprised to hear the belts hiss quietly as they retract from her figure. She rubs along the indents of her arms and legs where the bindings had particularly dug in, and she stands up, bracing one hand on his chair, the other cloaked in blue biotic energy.

“Turn it around,” Sara hisses, each syllable punctuated by another pulse of blue.

Yet Vidal doesn’t even blink, his eyes never leaving forward. “You know how to pilot a ship? Because waving biotics can be misconstrued as a threat.”

The complete uncaring in his voice only irks Sara further, as she now clenches the fist in warning. “Turn. It. Around.”

“So you can continue to be treated like royalty, so the Initiative can continue worshipping you like you’re their hope, until yet another section breaks off and becomes another rebellion?” Vidal responds coolly. And without warning, he turns his chair; Sara lifts her hand before she’s yanked along with it. Instead, she’s treated to an icy-hazel glance. “I’m doing you a favour, Ryder,” he says in a tone that exudes finality, but Sara isn’t having any of it.

“Is that why you saved my life?”

“I am an opportunist. I saw an opportunity, and I took it,” Vidal says dismissively.

“I’m supposed to thank you, then.”

Her captor sighs, running a hand through his hair, before reconvening at his lap. “You have no obligation to follow me once we land in Kadara. Although I advise you do,” he says, and Sara somehow knows he’s being dead serious. “The locals don’t take to the words Initiative or Pathfinder very well.”

The local Angara haven’t been the most receptive to human contact, Sara knew; worse were the Kett. She’d learned that the first settlements on Eos ended in extermination thanks to that species, and it only served to irk her more knowing that she – her family – could’ve prevented this. If they weren’t lost in space aboard the Hyperion.

“The bottom line is,” Vidal is saying, “the Initiative and the Nexus is over. For all of us. But especially you – because they’ll keep you around and you’re always going to be waiting for the Hyperion. You’re here now, in Andromeda, and it’s time you started living.”

The words sit oddly in Sara, in a way she doesn’t quite understand. And there’s danger in his eyes, those hazels eyes and slick black hair and oddly crooked smile. There’s also an odd promise, too – one that Sara herself doesn’t understand and yet, despite her really trying, she can’t find herself to actually be mad at him. Maybe it was because she knew he was right, or maybe it was that odd spark she could feel that made her limbs burn and her veins sing. It’s all so different and compelling and captivating and Sara thinks that maybe, maybe, this danger was something she’s always been craving, even back then at the bar when their eyes first met.

She swallows.

“Just get us to Kadara.”

And judging by the way his smirk never falters as Reyes turns back around, Sara knows that he’ll do just that.

#reyes/ryder #jak wrote a thing #me:a #sara ryder #reyes vidal #mass effect fanfiction

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duraxxor · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: Wings of a Val'kyr

[ Warning: This Chapter contains heavy violence and gore. Viewer Discretion is advised. ]

There was a time where you were a wonderful husband....

" My sweet Lillian... oh how I missed you my sweet.." An echo rippled from ages past..

..and a great father...

" Come, son, let me teach you the lessons of the blade." Another washes over like a sweeping wave..

..but now..

CLINK! The sound of metal clashing overwhelms the tides of time..

.. you are nothing more than a horrific visage..

Once, Noiryn and Wrathblade were once the couple known as Lillian and Alonius. Now, they were something completely different, bitter enemies and what remains of who they use to be. Fate, has spun a thread that once again reunites them in the most unsettling of ways. Noiryn, with her fangs gritting together along with those furious eyes of her's, clashed her mighty axe against the remnant of one of those twin Warblades. The grinding of smithed steel clattered as the two made eye contact. " Why couldn't you just stay dead.. you bastard!" Noiryn snarled out those venomous words which only caused the warrior to smile back at her, bearing his own fang filled teeth. There was a fire in his eyes, however, this was not fueled by the Fel at all..

" Isn't it obvious, Lillian?.. I've come for you once more!" He would lunge a kick of his iron boot directly into her stomach to force her to back off as he took his position. " I am like the ravagers of the Outlands... Once I have my eyes set... I don't stop... not even if it kills us both..." Noiryn's boots skidded across the dirt, regaining her balance as she hissed," Kiss my ass and go back to rotting in the Nether, you asshole..." As those words were spoken, Noiryn's hands seemed to expel a soft chill about them.

" Only after you surrender it you Bitch!" He would howl with crazed laughter as they began trading blow to blow. The metal collided continously, spewing the elements of fire and frost across the yard in streaks of their own respective nature. Lindeara, however, was finding this all too boring with her audience of she-locks, yawning as she spoke. " Ugh... all they are doing is locking weapons together and grunting... I swear.. I thought Noiryn was tougher than that.. fine.. let's raise the stakes... My lovelies.. why don't you give Lily some fireworks?" She would command with a wicked laced tone, her underlings giggling as each and every one of the twelve that were present began conjuring concentrated fel fire launching it in Noiryn's direction as if they were taking turns picking her off like crows.

" What the.." A fireball flung by Noiryn as she spoke before one of them struck her back. She hissed out in pain as the fire struck against one of her uncovered sections of her armor, sending herself backwards in an attempt to dodge Wrathblade's swipe, rolling backwards as the slow barrage of flames danced around her, causing her to growl out in frustration. " You've got to be kidding me?!..." She created a small wall of ice to her right side before Wrathblade rushed her with a bellowing roar, causing him to crash into the sheet of ice as Noiryn once against rolled over and tossed her axe to strike at his back, which was unarmored.

" RAAAAAAAARGH!" Wrathblade roared out in pain as her axe had made contact, causing Noiryn to grin triumphantly, feeling that she had an advantage now that he was bleeding, but sadly that joy was ended when she saw the blood that bled from his back onto her axe. It was black, tainted with a foul smell about it.. it wasn't anything like the fel blood he was before, Wrathblade had become something much more tainted... She would then remember her husband's words about such a foe..

'' Crimson blood is always your best friend... Fel blood has it's uses.. but it's tainted and drinking such isn't good for our kind... Black.. however... there's nothing we can do about it... we are not strong enough to bend it to our will... it is something entirely different and in it's own field..."

Once she came to her senses, she would hear her very weapon be ripped from his flesh, the wound bubbling with a seething heat, imbued with a dark red aura that only personified it's foulness. He would bellow with laughter as he turned to sinisterly smile at her. It was then that she sent a tendril of dark matter to regain her weapon in preparation, charging him while dodging the fiery embers that sought to strike her. " Heeeyaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

CRINK!

Yet another collision of metal which followed with consistant parrying. Before long, though, her body began to show more ice about it's form as a few pieces of armor became busted up, reaveling more and more. Meanwhile, Wrathblade himself was carrying many wounds that bleed the dark blood, however, it seemed he was far from tiring out. His blood laced the air around them as well as the smell of hellfire and brimstone. Noiryn continuously dodged each and every fireball while navigating to strike at Wrathblade each time.. until...

A lighting caught Noiryn's eye as she saw something. " What is.. OW-!" A small explosion caught against Noiryn's left side as it appears Lindeara had launched a much larger ball of fel flame than her warlocks. " See my pretties.. that's how you weaken your adversary with flames.." She said with that onyx lipped grin that could cut glass with it's edge. Noiryn had landed on her left side with pieces of armor that had been twisted by the heat, her left gauntlets and pauldrons crumbled to pieces as they fell to the ground in her attempt to get up, feeling the earth rumble beneath her feet as Wrathblade came rushing to her with his weapon ready to cleave into her skull whilst she was reaching to grab her axe to block.

CRINK! The metal weapons collided once more as Noiryn and Wrathblade's blood dripped onto the charred ground.

" Give up, Lillian! You can't win! Just.. Give.. Up!!" Wrathblade demanded as her strength pushed against her own, pinning her to the ground. " No! I won't! I'd never give up on him, just as he... he never gave up on me!" With her cries in protest, a frosty gust of wind erupted from her form, causing Wrathblade to back off in surprise as parts of his arm became froze along with his chest. Noiryn stood up with a limping right foot, as it seemed the bone had been struck heavily by the explosion. However, the ice solidfied the bone while the blood in her reserves worked to regenerate the flesh. Each fireball from the she-locks struck against the vortex of winter and istantly smothered due to the cold's lack of oxygen. Noiryn snarled as the wintery air howled with her voice. " Die, Alonius!" She conjured up shards of icy spikes at his feet that instantly chained him in place, unable to move his footing while she charged him with her mighty axe. " Raaaaaahhh!!"

Meanwhile, within the hidden chamber where Lindeara's black pearl lied, Dura was still unable to get up, the dark presence flowing off his body as he fidgetted for movement, only to prove futile. It was then that his eyes noted that he was no longer alone.

" Tsk Tsk... the Lord of this house is on his knees begging already.." one of the she-locks chided with malevolent laughter while the other's levitated to retrieve the pearl for their mistress. " You poor thing... we would play with you a little bit.. but we have important thinks for the Mistress... Tata, cutie.." All three of them vanished into thin air, with the pearl gone and out of sight. Dura could feel it in his blood, Noiryn was fighting yet he could feel her energy slowly waning.

"Dammmmn... it..." He muttered between clenched teeth as he actually began to push back this force as it seemed to lighten it's grip upon him, giving him the ability to at the very least crawl his way through the room since the security had been disabled along with the apprehension of the pearl. As he approached the doorway, he painfully pulled himself up to his feet, feeling as if several tons had been placed upon his shoulders to slow his movement.

" I'm... coming.... Noiryn..."

On and on, the clashing of the Warrior and the Maiden commenced. Each blow delivered harshly as flesh, blood, and armor alike littered across the charred grassy fields of the yard. Between the hellish breaths of Wrathblade and the hoarse growls of the Shadowreaver, it was a fight for endurance, which, Noiryn herself was already at a disadvantage as time went by, for the she-locks continued to pelt her with their fire balls every so often. Hissing out, she would fall to one knee with her axe in use to keep her balance. " Damn you, Lindeara... damn you and your she-locks!"

Lindeara would lift a hand to cease her artillery from pelting her further. " Enough of this... Wrathblade, finish her, I grow bored of this consistent prattle!" Wrathblade' slips began to curl into a sinister grin at witch's words. " Any last words, 'darling'?" It didn't take long before Noiryn spat upon his face with her bloodied lip. Wrathblade chuckled darkly before lifting his broadsword up, while Noiryn was also attempting to life her axe even with a broken arm. "Raaaaahhh!" cried the Wrathblade as he forced his blade downward before the Black Lily could have a chance to intervene, causing Noiryn's blood to run much colder than it had ever in this lifetime.

"Dura.... I'm.. I'm s-" her thoughts called to him before...

SHIIINK!

" Blurgh!" Wrathblade coughed blood as the exposed part of his back was pierced by a veiled assassin that had the form of a young female, causing him to temporarily be disorientated from the point of entry. Another voice called out as a chain wrapped around his blade in an attempt to pull it away from Noiryn. " You are not going to take her from me! I've already lost too much!" Raven cried out in rebellion of the will of their adversaries. " What is this?!?!" Lindeara's eyes widened as her fang filled teeth clenched in irritation at the intervening of the Daeavara girl, an ally, and... " HEY! DON'T COUNT ME OUT!" A male voice called out in the distance before her other friend, Dominic, who possessed a body with bulky physique came barreling through, centering his body straight into Wrathblade's chest to force him heavily into the ground, dismantling his blade with the assistance of Raven's chain as the group of three reformed directly infront of Noiryn.

" Rav..en... I told you... to... get.. the hell.. out of here..." Noiryn protested to her coming, despite her not being alone. " You did... but if you really think I'd let you fight all of them alone, you are wrong... Where is dad?" Raven returned with a question of her own, the three standing in position for another attack to commence as Wrathblade began to get himself back up with a gurgling breath of frustration. " He's.. still inside.. he said he's.. coming... something is holding him back.." Noiryn stood up shakingly, her reserves had run out and she was low on energy.

" Seri... feed mom.. she needs her energy..." Raven commanded as Seri began to expose her wrist, but Noiryn hissed at the offer." NO... I won't take the blood... keep it... save your energy for them..." Domi would sigh and shake his head," Is she always this stubborn?" Noiryn glared at Domi along with the other two girls before Raven finally answered him," She's a Daevara.. isn't she?" Domi would roll his eyes before snickering," Unfortunately..."

" Do not think you have won, children! You are still outnumbered and outmatched.... She-locks! On my command!" She would hold her hand up in the air as the rift above them began to spew for energies to form into a malefic ball of energy. Her minions began to charge up their own small balls of chaotic magics as Wrathblade himself took position.

"Wait! Mistress!" The three other she-locks made their appearance as Lindeara glared at the disruption," WHAT?!-" She was cut off at the sight as her minion presented the prize. Her pearl, her very soulstone that had eluded her freedom over several years.. finally in her grasp. " Finally... after all this time.. it's finally mine!" Noiryn's eyes would instantly grow wide as she realized what was going on, catching a glimpse of the Black Pearl. " Don't let her touch that stone!! Stop her!!" It didn't take long before the trio of younglings and Noiryn herself seemed to spring into action, though Noiryn was going to fight against Wrathblade while the kids fought against the she-locks. " You are mine, Aloniusss!!"

The ceiling above the old stonework as Dura heaved his body which was still afflicted by the weight of this unknown magic. " Rrrrrrr... Damn these witches and their foul magic!.. Why isn't anything I do working to get there faster! Noiryn is waning and it sounds like a battlefield up there!" He thought to himself as the ground he was within continued to shake. Dura would punch his left fist against the stone as he growled furiously. " This would be a real good time for your damn assistance right now, you damned beast! I know you can hear me!"

He spoke amongst himself but all he could hear was silence for the time being. Dura shook his head as he began to continue his slow footed journey, though, the magic began to lift upon his form the further he got in his ascension. " Finally.. that's more like it!" He began to smirk as positivity began to surge within his mind.

" Noiryn! I'm coming! Just hold on a bit l-" Dura's thoughts were instantly cut off as another voice spoke directly two him.

" You will know rage and sorrow alike... but only because.. you care.. for it was foretold in the sea of blood.. "

The positivity that began to rise within Dura had slowly began to sink into the depth of his black heart as he felt it those words. " No... No! NO!" He then push himself to try and ascend much faster, coming into the lighting of his home...

Lindeara levitated to the rooftops to dodge one of Raven's chains as she found herself hurled across the field once more by a burst of shadow energy, falling to the dirt as she looked at her allies. Both Seri and Domi would find themselves surrounded and detained by magic, fighting and wriggling in the grasp of the magical steel. Wrathblade leapt backwards directly in the range between Raven and Lindeara whilst Noiryn was attempting to once more regain her footing after another assault. " No.... we can't lose... " She was crippled by fear and pain, shaking with the charred leathers upon form.

" What's a matter, child? Are you afraid? You should be.. because now... it's all over.." Lindeara would then proceed to take the Black Pearl and shove it into her mouth slowly. " Noooooo... Damn it!.." Noiryn cursed, hissing in pain as the Witch swallowed her stone, causing her dark, inky eyes to grow into wide circles as dark energies surged through her. " Yes... Yesss! Oh thank you, Master! Thank you!.. " She spun around in the air with joy before wickedly laughing, joined by the chorus of her minions. " No... that power.. I feel it.. we failed..." Raven spoke on the matter as she stared at them all in defeat.

" Can I kill the Daevara runt, Mistresssss?" Wrathblade asked the now freed Lindeara as she came to stand upon her heels, surging with dark entities that had been locked within her Pearl. " You may do as you please.. Wrathblade.. our work here is done.. and you may reap your reward.." Wrathblade nodded as he began to step forward," As you wish.." he chuckled a moment before rushing towards Raven with brute force while the girl was stunned by fear.

" Raven! Noooo!" Her friends cried out as the flailed to try and get free while the poor girl pulled up her arms as if it would block the broadsword swipe... but she felt.. nothing... why? Then.. she would realize as she looked up towards the scene, gasping in horror," No..."

Dura had finally made it through the side door before he not only heard a scream of suffering, but he also felt a pain about right shoulder blade that caused him to hiss, a burning sensation that echoed the memory of what his beloved once told him about the gift. " If I pass.. before you, darling... my gift will alert you... sizzling out.. almost like a burning sensation.." She spoke as Dura returned with his own words," That won't happen.. because you will not die before I.." Dura's form began to drop it's flesh colored disguise as his features turned that ashen gray in response to the emotions that began to twist inside. " NO.. It can't be... Noiryn! Noiryn!!!" He yelled out as he came around the corner of the home to see the truth...

Noiryn had stood her ground with her arms spread outward and her back towards Wrathblade as she had shielded her step-daughter, the wings of a Val'kyr spread wide upon her exposed back. Wrathblade's weapon had already been swung but seemed to have done no damage. " R-Raven.." Noiryn spoke with a struggling breath. " I.. I love you.. darling.. g-give th-em.. hell-" Though her lips smiled to her step-child, her eyes would begin to dim as her head severed from her neck. Her body along with the beheadment fell... Noiryn had sacrificed what was left of her unlife in order to save her family. " Noiryn!! Nooo.. Why.. Why did you have to do it?!!" Raven screamed out, weeping over the loss. " Yes!! Yes, yes, yessss!! Ohhhh boohoo! Woe always me... Wrathblade fi-" Lindeara cheered at Wrathblade's success before she was interrupted by a loud cry.

" WARBLADE!!!!"

Everyone turned to face where the voice had come from, however, Wrathblade found himself unable to get a clear view as he was struck by a powerful force against his chest, which caused him to howl in agony as his back crashed into the stone wall of the home. He would find his chest being pierced by the claws of a rather enraged Lord Daeavara, whose form seemed to expel that same inky, dark haze. The very orbs of his eyes had turned into that shade of red that mimiced blood. The shadows of Dura's form twisting to tear into the butcher's chest as Wrathblade fought to gain freedom, even attempting to strike at the Lord who just would not budge. " Get off of me! No!" Wrathblade beckoned for help but all the other's watched. Raven was horrified by this scene, never before had she seen her father become so enthralled.

" I'LL TEAR OUT YOUR HEART AND DEVOUR IT.. THERE WON'T BE ANYTHING LEFT FOR YOU TO BRING BACK.. NOT EVEN FIT FOR THE CROWS!!" Dura's voice howled out in defiance of the very man's request for freedom. " DIE!. DIE!.. DIE!" The deeper his left hand dug into the cavity that had been torn by his weapon, the more Wrathblade fought to get him off, flailing about and crashing into his home as they even bombarded into the group of She-locks. Yet, all Lindeara could do was giggle at this show, finding it all too amusing. " Wrathblade.. it seems your time is about to be up..." She whispered, crossing her legs as she sat from her perch.

" No!... Master! Why! You promised me.. my time.. was.. " He was interrupted once more as blood and flesh sputtered and splattered across the ground. Within the Lord's grasp was the throbbing, tainted heart of Alonius 'Wrathblade', from which he eyed a moment with an opening of his jaws as if he were going to keep his promise as the dying man wriggled, gurgling the black blood that tainted the very heart and veins. Truly, it sickened Dura, even in this enraged state.

" RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH!!" He cried out in frustration and sorrow.

His left hand's metallic fingertips pierced and crushed the organ instantly, splattering it's contents all over his leathers and the very earth he stood upon. Turning his hate filled gaze instantly towards Lindeara who only smiled, shrugging at the man's actions. " I say... death to the weak and those that give into their little fears... Awwwwwwww... look at you... that fierce gaze almost turns me on... almost anyways.. but alas, Lord Daevara.." She would instantly stop speaking as the Lord made an attempt to lunge directly at her, leaping from the very earth in an attempt to strike. He would find himself unable as Lindeara vanished into a poof of black smoke, along with her fifteen she-locks. " Consider this... your lucky day, Lord Daevara... I have what I need... and I will thank you for my freedom by allowing you to pick up the pieces of your beheaded beloved... We will meet again.. I assure you.... Ta-ta~"

All he would hear was the maniacal laughter in his ear before he slammed his left hand into the rooftop's shingles before crying out," DAMN IT!" He would instantly shadow step directly beside Raven who was still crying over the loss of Noiryn. Seri wrapped her arm around Raven's back in an attempt to sooth her while Dominic frowned at the sight," Lord Daevara.. I.." Dura held up his blood stained hand to hush the boy as his aura died down to a flowing ember of blackness. " Don't..." His voice began to crack as he fell to his knees before his wife's body. " Very well.." Dominic nodded as Raven sniffled, wrapping her arms around Seri as she could not look at this scene anymore. " .... What will you have of us, Sir?" Dominic asked.

" I want you both.. to help Raven.. and tend to the bearing of the bad news..." Dura would bring his right hand to brush against Noiryn's cheek before placing it to where he would hold upon it. " Tell them... the Val'kyr fell with honor.. defending her home.. and her family..." He finished without saying another word to them. Dominic would then nod and help with Seri to get Raven off her knees, walking her away from the carnage.

Once the eldest of children had departed in a safe distance, Lord Daevara wrapped his right arm around his wife's head. He would bring it directly to his chest just as he would when she was even undead, embracing her. Dura's left eye would then shed blood from wound... a gushing wound upon his heart.. for today.. he had lost yet.. another person in his existance that he had cherished dearly. The rift had disminished and the heaven's cried.. cascading it's tears upon the field of battle.

" Give me peace or give me blood." - Noiryn Shadowreaver Daevara

[[ @mindofnala for Noiryn, may her character rest in peace after all these years. ]]

#beast arc #dura #RIP Noiryn #chaotic and sad chapter

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heroes-of-legend · 8 years ago

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The River of Blood.

Davien tactics do not abide any rule of honor, or any sense of formality, or rigor of discipline. Their soldiers, to a man, are wily, cowardly things, and their measures in combat are like that of the animal, howling and striking and running with all the glee of men posessed.

So did Zerinus find himself in their homeland, his soldiers encountering little in the way of real resistance, and instead suffering nightly and incessant ambushes. Sometimes one upon another, as if the first was naught but a diversion to draw attention from the second.

Sentries would be found, their blood scattered in wide arcs and circles, the men responsible long gone. When caught and questioned, they smiled, sometimes even laughed; often entreating the men who captured them as close friends. A few made the mistake of loosening their guard; the manacles they first bound their cpatives in proved unusually effective as weapons. Several had their skulls caved in by such improvised weapons, or were choked to death before the Davien, with not so much as a sound, slipped into the night, only to strike again.

Zerinus long ago exchanged manacles for ropes, and then for the end of a sword. It was his very strong opinion that the Davien were not of a race of upright being, but some fell creature, spawned, as it was said, by the roan and muddy soil carried by the river that cut through their land like a knife.

Finally, after many months of long toil and forced march in the desert, only resupplying through convoy trains and through shipped food and water, did they reach the first settled town. Zerinus chose, in his wisdom, to wait for the break of the next day to lay siege; maps extracted from what few Davien were willing to talk suggested a river must be forded before they could reach the walls of the city, not some 2 miles ahead.

It was near dusk when the glint of their weapons was first visible. An alarm was raised, all the men had a fervor in their hearts to be met in real battle, to finally test the mettle of this, so slipper of an enemy.

The force they were faced with was small, but Zerinus, being a man with little desire for risk, committed his men to the task; three whole columns of infantry, their weapons glinting and armor polished to a mirror sheen, advanced.

Against such an overwhelming force, the roan men, with so small a number, were little but fodder. They quickly broke, falling to rout, and the men advanced, eager to exact revenge for their endless tribulations and receive the bounty each Davien carried; bracers of gold, chains and hoops of silver and fine silken cloth.

They embarked down a hill in hot pursuit, and it is only then that Zerinus grew wary, and called for a halt. But the leeward side of this ridge was steep, and slick. The first men who tried to stop fell and were trampled by others who were carried on by the weight of their equipment, or were unwilling to heed the order in the sight of such bounty and so haggard by frustration.

The first men who fell upon the river bed did so at a great pace. Their boides sunk, even up to the waist at times, into the muddy earth, their torsos carried forward by the onrush of men now moving too fast to stop. And yet, they had seen the Davien cross this very patch of land mere moments before.

Many men cried treachery, sorcery, that mystics had been roused to turn the earth to mud, Zerinus’ keener eyes, even in the falling dusk spotted the true cause. the Davien had build earthen fords in the riverbed, only as wide as a man’s gait. He ordered his men onto the fords, but even as he did, the sound of arrows filled the air. The Davien had made such a contrivance; with their true numbers massed at the opposite bank, hurling missiles and making rude entreatments to the men so assailed. They called to Zerinus, as one man, shouting a chant in their tongue, and then in the speech of Sarganus; Zerinus’ own home tongue.

“Only 2 miles!” they roared, boastingly.

Only then did their deception show through. Each Davien that gave up the lay of the land mentioned the river they now found themselves mired in, as being only 2 miles from the city, and thereby so much further away.

The men on the river were forced to make an arduous climb up the steep bank, or suffer the missiles of the Davien assembled opposite them, those that tried to pass along the fords were struck down by roan men with spears at the other end.

Still, the master of his forces and a skilled commander, Zerinus organized his men and pulled them from the brink of rout, driving them up the bank by roaring his own invectives to them, calling them hasty children for not following his order. Spurred by their shame and further by his order that any man with an arrow in his back was to be left in the desert with no care or burial, they reformed, and retreated in force up the hillside, though at some great casualty.

But the sun was still in the sky, and Davien warfare knew no niceties.

Only as they retreated, did they see the flames of the camp, their supplies, the few men left garrisoned slaughtered by forces that seemed to appear out of nowhere and equally quickly vanish into the desert.

Of the ones left, several had words carved into their back by a knife or such a weapon.

“Altesh Take Your Blood.” It read.

There was no rest for the men. By night, as if by some spell or other trick, Davien would appear on the heads of dunes, shouting calls, hurling single missiles into the camp, killing sentries and rousing the men to action only to evaporate. Hour by hour it continued, Zerinus and his men clashing as to what to do. The men wanted to seek these assailants out, but Zerinus was wary of another ambush like the one they had just barely weathered.

The next morning, he was greeted by his scouts in a utter panic. From both sides a sizable force encroached.Under the cover of darkness and the distraction of the Davien night-raiders, the assembled force on the bank, along with 1 column of light cavalry and infantry, had crossed the river through some other means, and had circumvented their position. To their south lie the river, impassable by men and material in any great number. To their north and east lie a sizable force with cavalry skilled in chasing routed men down, and to the west waited the desert and then the brackish ocean.

A parlay was made, and it was Zerinus, his Lictors, and his secretaries, who conveyed themselves to this meeting.

They were met by equal numbers, men in exotic clothes, with bangles and other trappings of Davien status and wealth, save for one, who was a tall and swarthy sort, his unkempt hair seeming almost wild. He wore armor akin to the Legionares own, but also had an gold collar around his neck.

So spoke this man, “Lo, Zerinus. I am Altesh sen Daveis tal Daveis, breaker of chain and yoke, son of the light, sire of no Davien and patriarch of all roan men. Where my people’s strength has shattered fetters, it has become gold, where we have rent chains, they have become silks, where my people’s blood has spilled, so nothing shall grow. So, speak, oh Zerinus, so that I may hear your reason to tread so heavily on this land.”

Zerinus knew of the man who spoke, Altesh, the leader of the rebellion, a man who must have been many years his senior, yet to all eyes there, did not look anything but the same age as him. He inquired, in as plain a speech of a soldier, of the mans youthful appearance, and his attire, which contrasted the rest of his men.

So spake Altesh; “For my attire, I carry a blade, stout armor, cloths which suit my temperament, and this gold collar; a reminder to all that I was once the slave of men like you, and now am instead a willing slave of my people. Unlike your masters, your kinds and emperors and petty men, I serve ll my people, and their interests are my own. Mark, now, Zerinus, my people, to a one, desire no further strife or bloodshed, even upon your own brow. Take stock and know that while we may not desire your blood, we will gladly offer it so long as your sword points to our flesh. Turn away, Zernius, and no shadow, no spirit, no roan man will harry you. You will find safe passage and I will give you guides to return from whence you came, unharmed. No man will fault you for being so brave as to come only 2 miles from death, for who among them can say they have traveled so far to stop at only 2 miles?”

Zerinus inquired, again, to Altesh, “And what of your youth; for it is known that you are many years my senior, and I am a man of venerable age myself. Yet you appear to be no older than my youngest Lictor, who ages 26 this year.“

Responded he, “My youth is of no artifice or trickery, I know not how I posses it; but why I have held this body to well is clear. It is to drive you and your men out of this land, oh honorable and brave Zerinus. And when you flee, if that is to break the spell and all my years are to come for me, then so be it; for you will be gone and my people will be safe. So again, I say unto you, to turn back Zerinus, turn away in peace and receive a safe passage home.”

Zerinus, incensed by this mans long speech and treacherous guise, spake thus, “Mark you, your disrespect and trickery now, Altesh, or so-called. Your host holds naught but cowards, your Davien flee in battle and hold no rank nor have no love of glory. What, then would you suggest will occur when my men, so sharpened by our trials, and desirous of your blood to slake our thirst, will prefer to reach to yours with sword and spear? Will your roan men run, as they always have, then; and flee until there is naught to flee to?”

Suddenly there was as if a fire in the breast of Altesh, his visage glowering even in the day’s sunlight, “If you seek to slake your thirst, then I will respond in kind from the blood of your brow, and all will remember your foolishness for choosing this moment to doubt the word of the Davien, when you so wholeheartedly believed them before.”

Zerinus, knowing his defeat if the host of Altesh were to give even half a fight, for the last nights excursions had filed their nerves thin and had weakened their bodies with effort of battle, was all but assured, was possessed by no small aspect of Urseus, protected as he was, by the anger in his heart and the entreatment of his Lictors to return and ready for battle. He accepted the terms of Altesh, to return whence he came, with aid of a guide who would convey them to the edge of the wastelands at the terminus of Davien territory.

Of the men that engaged the excursion, not even 1/10th remained, including the wounded; and so Zerinus returned, and so great was his sorrow at his loss and frustration at his failings, that he entreated a return to Davien lands to his heir, before, in repentance and sorrow, took a brand of iron and bore it unto nine of his fingers, so that they were scarred in rememberanc eof the 9/10ths of his men he had lost. Those who were left, roused by his gesture and mourning of loss, pledged their own sons to Zerinus’; swearing to return his loyalty and pay the debt of blood owed by the Davien.

#heroes of legend #davien #zerinus #lore #nafrin #altesh #nafrin perspective

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crossxskulled · 8 years ago

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"Heads up Skull! You have a swarm of hostile Shadows heading your way!"

☠

That would be his luck the moment he had to split from the group. Already could he feel that malicious presence as desire began to manifest into a form more suited for maiming. With his tool of the trade lounged over his shoulder, he’d come to a pause as the sickening sounds of shadows being born retched within his ears. As a focused grip was taken onto his weapon, there was an undeniable rush of exhilaration storming through him as those treading steps came to a pause.

Call it a bad influence from the newest gang he’d gained upon this highway to personal hells, but damn did the sound of a battle sound too exciting to pass up. Proof of that belief could be found in the tyrant like smile Ryuji carried as he could hear the mammoth like footsteps of the approaching shadows. “Got it. It’s gonna scuff the time for me to get this damn gate open, so just grab yer popcorn and treat out ‘guest’ comfortably up there a lil longer.” Skull responds over the mentally set comms thanks to Oracle’s expertise.

As his masked visage skimmed across the enemies, he could see the twisted branches of order oh so prepared to snuff out this edge of rebellion. This motivated the slow arriving steps to jolt up in intensity, a full fledge burst of speed guiding from the manmade starting line and clear into the threshold of danger. Target changed to an alternate route to the mechanism, this time, a crowd wielding lethally edge scimitars would be the way to go! Already could he feel that surge of raw strength ignite within his soul as he directs a finger forward.

”Bathe in ‘em iron--! Captain Kidd!!”

“PERSONA!”

Rushed from the depths of that rebellious spirit would its avatar that held an equally violent instent. Bathing in the rush of strength, the gleaming cannon set it’s all was already prepped for the offensive. Wasn’t there a classic saying about bringing knives to a gun fight? Proof of that would be found as a multitude of explosives shook that very hallway, the damage being ruthlessly piled up as the resident assault captain of the Phantom Thieves was now on the charge!

Knowing their opponents had more kick in them than just that, full advantage would be taken of their dazed state as Skull tore through the smoke, bat in order to deliver a more upfront lesson as to what a scrambled brain really was. Pressing firm off his legs, he’d launch right into the brawl!

‘Gotta make this a quick one. Don’t want the guys to go n’ get too bored without me there!’

#Anon #| The Confidentials #ooh~#did I mention how much I love battle things #don't think I had a chance too--#Anonymous

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magnetar1 · 8 years ago

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Mental Funeral

Frontier of war & charnel commiseration. I weep for the dark procession winding its way through autumnal change - Olden spirit slips from the decayed bough of another bloody summer. Bones pile up as different aspects are revealed:

Humbled neophyte. Many times each day I stop to catch my breath . . .

There’s always been a rebellion in my soul. Loyalties to strangers in the darkness of my own sanctum. To others they’re demons, but to me they are unkempt death angels. Lowly shadow creatures burdened by leaden fears . . . I stoke their fires again so they may once again return to the Flaming City. Blood brothers waiting for them in the bowels of violence & the source of all the bile I fight back. Center of my nervous system feeding the battles I face making me physically sick. Yet I choose not to be any part of those cities that have unified man’s grief. Still, appraising his limited scope with good humor.

It is this man I wish to murder most of all. Not his life, but his sanity. I want him to get shaken by the abyss while still thriving in his vessel. So used to being a part of it. Now he isn’t a part of anything. No longer can he separate himself. A shadowy semblance that feeds on what is unseen, yet is all around.

I’ve been visited by ghosts my entire life & that is part of it. Or shades as they form around a living semblance. Familial strains: Those we’ve been around for many years, decomposing before they are actually dead. Eventually, I quarantine myself by finding physical spaces to manage my energy unintrusively.

Holding my stomach in as I try not to vomit. Today, more than most, I truly want to end it.

Looking out my window at the dull sky line. I should be in the Flaming City. Instead, I am thinking about how I’ll get through the next day. Yet all I sense around me is how this is acceptable. False murderers hiding behind thick walls just as I have done. Brothers who’ve only tasted synthetic blood. Nor have we memorized its Oath: To a Beast who has stared at the wall too long. Afraid to penetrate the shadowy veil of its mind . . .

Now I want to shatter its skull & take what’s mine. Father of my eternal frustration. I wilt you the moment you look up. Too late for you to take the stars in - Golden alliance with truth. Beyond ill-fated radiance of Early Man.

Today is a living nightmare that the father-structures built out of fear. Grid of temperance that allowed him to spread his anxiety to other lands. Until his influence has gripped reality tight enough to wield it.

Now, wasted beneficiaries of its entombed thinking, rise to meet a day that is locked-in by some meter or course. Loping along inside this electric wilderness - No ancient secrets to guide them. Only bleak prayers that have no motion: Dead inside. Just like I feel. The only difference is I know it.

It does not pay to be human. Spiritually or otherwise. The more I uncover within: Innards of circumspection. Seeing the world as an abstraction. Deeper I go, the more that’s revealed, the more abstract it becomes. Even as I’m staring at the wall with my guts in a knot it becomes known I’m free to leave this space at any time . . .

Letting the old sickness go. I float across an abyss toward the Flaming City. Back to my unkempt death angels. Those who came to intone my name, & I theirs. Circle of filth where old glories still stand. The procession ends here: At bottom of a grave where we stored our ancient masks. All sacrificed to visages later internalized in order to avoid feeling paranoid or dread. Suppressed revelry becoming unguided rage. Still, I sit, crushing my head against the wall. Cracking open my skull. All the emptiness coming out in a dark pantheon of rulers & mystics.

Sacrificing myself to the only gods I’ve ever known. I drew a cold bargain in the middle of my room in the shape of an uneven circle. I lean down toward it allowing my exposed brain to meet its surface. A numb feeling washes over my entire body as the surrounding room becomes shadowy. Still, there are shapes on the periphery of my vision that’ll come to pick up the pieces after I’m totally & completely gone.

Between life & dead. Looking for a corpse to devour while true demons are at the gates anticipating their final move. Willing myself away from them before it happens. With suicidal guidance. Clarity beyond the shackled veil. It hurts so much at first. Black fire in my veins. Leads to total vision. Total escape. Synapses die in each other’s arms on an altar made of iron & gold - Suddenly, I am a ghost, swimming toward the distant shore. My true home. Dark sky ripples above with flashes of its coming revolution. They’re talking about it in the Flaming City. Of sailing across that harborless ocean straight into the heart of man’s latent mind . . . It was our sickness & now it’s yours. THAT is how revolutions begin. We’ve returned from death to take it all away. Cancerous forms in the guise of gods & demons. That is what you get for waiting too long. That is what you get for never listening: The stillness of a beating heart. Born to die.

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mypassionstreet-blog · 7 years ago

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As everyone understands, skull accessories have near resemblance to our mankind. These posts were created like a human cranium. Typically, it wouldn't be a personal option of most of the people to create a selection of an evil ring. You have to have a different view of your own My Passion Street flower icing tips life to enjoy and game the biker things. There's not any requirement to have guts to sport skull article. Anybody who's sportive enough to experimentation would not mind wearing a skull ring. People who treasure rings also have a fancy of them are out to buy a skull ring.

You can find a number of reasons for sporting biker articles. The motives of having biker decoration could be to get a stylish style statement or for adornment, spiritual motives, superstition etc., whereas others believe it is a fashion statement and others might believe that it is too loud, threatening and appealing. Frequently, skull decorations are represented for fear of some unknown thing or mortality.

Many individuals have a misconception which the skull posts can be worn with daring and adventurous individuals and the citadel of these things apply to a male. The effluence of time has twisted this to a jewelry thing that even a sterling silver skull ring keith richards girl would love to flaunt as a portion of their makeover of jewelry. Now, the two genders like to wear such skull ornaments. There's a very good market for sterling silver skull and leather skull rings offered for both genders.

Ordinarily, men who wear the skull material live their life in their own edge. You may be seeing numerous rock bands sporting biker decorations to express them to get a fashion statement.

There is a variety of design and color in skull articles. Some kind of rings like the demon ones may also be customized and made based on the person's choice of alloy layout and finesse. Colored eyes skull rings would be the most popular amongst the biker rings. Even girls like such type of stuff as they feel that it compliments their attire or adds vibrancy of color or love of unknown. A skull ornament can be created out of a great deal of metals, but sterling silver stands out of the remainder. The intricacies of dividing are seen from the silver skull ring. The takers of this skull ring are also in the tinsel town. No one can forget Johnny Depp wearing the skull ring. Due to his liking for skull rings they've become a sexy thing to wear. Lately, Depp has also possessed one solid golden studded skull ring. The Metallica band artists and Paris Hilton have sported these skull ornaments.

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