Radek Nekerat The Vampire Weapons Expertl ╔══════════════╗
Radek was one of those kinds of people, who didn't believe in gods without vital proof and appearance. But he overheard the conversation as he nodded a bit, his staff soon placed back onto his own back. He heard more details about the place of the cathedral's location before he turned into a swarm of bats. He had dropped his blood packet, which he picked up to carry over to the place as he flew off as a storm. (exits)
(C Rank Blood Packet Retained.)
Energy: 550/550 Strength: 9 Speed: 7 Equipment: Iron staff ╚══════════════╝ "...I will not be defeated." Lord of Dark Weaponry
shut up hamlet
Posted: Mon Dec 23, 2013 4:55 am
Chase grew a playful smirk in response to the woman's shrug. "Nothing at all." He mischievously replied and nonchalantly swung a leg over the back end of the lady's bike, plopping down the nice leather seat. "Baby, I was born in the Red Light District. Let's go." Adjusting himself to the new arrangement, Chase's hips pushed up against hers. His curves formed nicely around hers. Upon her request, the white-haired racer hugged his arms tightly around the lady's mid drift. Despite being on a two-wheeled death machine, he felt quite snug. Chase breathed out a dry laugh when she mentioned that she liked to drive fast, but that only raised his excitement. "Heh, tell me about it." Like her, dying was the least of his worries.
shut up hamlet
Fist of the Bro Star
Shirtless Seraph
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U SO MAD BRO
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Posted: Tue Dec 31, 2013 9:26 am
The Mr Chan elves were dismantled, disarmed, and completely obliterated.
As the carnival had suddenly appeared, it to would vanish without a trace. The square returning to normal. There was not even a speck of confetti left, no lingering smells, ...just nothing.
Life would return to normal.
Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 8:06 pm
The city streets were decorated by glimmering lights, standing high over everyone from their poles, some of them hoisted up to the rooftops. He enjoyed the feeling of the moving crowd, as if he were a part of it. It would not be long before he put his charm to the test, stepping in to stare, laugh, and ultimately intervene. His bed was cold and empty, not fit for solitary. Tonight he had plans for the sheets to go alight. "Hey." His thoughts were interrupted, a vampire girl with a bloodied chin and a red-laced dress pulling up by him, her motorcycle being gripped by the space between her arms. She must've not realized that it would be leaking oil onto her feet, as she winced from the feeling of it. She seemed to have a hunger in her eyes, only equaled by his own. Unfortunately, he was not here to please the body of women. That was the job of the more ambitious of his kind -- ones that would like to give young women their flesh, sons that they would never know.
The demon did not say anything to her. It could be that he felt her beneath him, or simply that he enjoyed his own exclusivity. He waited for her to get to the point, which frankly made him quite Lumirian in practice. "I'm not here for your body." She made it clear. She could smell the Incubus on him, though it was a different scent than with the others. It was more... refined, seasoned. And exotic. And she could understand why. "I'm here to ask you a question." She reached her hand up near her breast, and gripped a golden and jeweled medallion. It glowed faintly, and so her interest was inflamed once again. She tried to get closer, though when he did not allow her to, she made no effort to try once more. "How in the world did someone so unbelievably powerful get into the city unnoticed?" Yes, that was what she wondered. She was a Seul, some of the best sensors of magic, only behind Pride in that ability. She could feel two layers of energy in him; one that was colossal, and one even more vast than that. And here he stood, trying to nonchalantly seem like some regular citizen walking the streets. She wondered what game he was playing.
"It's because I'm so powerful..." He started, and stepped closer to her. He began to release his allure, which quickly petrified her. She became unable to think rationally. "That I managed to get into the city unnoticed. You don't have to worry, though. I'm not here to do harm. Rest assured." At that moment, he seemed to disappear from her vision. She felt dazed, and less capable than she'd have liked of remembering what just happened. One instant ago, she felt a great mass of energy moving through the streets, as if a brigade were smashing through. Now, it was gone.
Favnir walked around the street. He looked around at the buildings. He wondered what he was going to do.
Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2014 1:55 pm
xxxxxxxxlDreadnaught l Dragoon l Novice l
DamianKullingxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx TABTAB A hooded man stood on a stage, a human judging by the equipment around him. The stage he stood on was surrounded by hundreds of people, all dressed for the occasion. The speakers set up on stage began playing music as the lights surrounding the man began elipsing from one color to another to another, hypnotizing the crowd. They knew what was coming; this had not been his first performance in the city.
TABTAB When the crowd went insane, the lights flashed and intensified. But something else was going on as well. Damian, clad in his Carapace, the biological armor that were signature for a Dreadnought, slammed into the ground on his feet on the wide open street strip a mile away from the concert. The landing created a crater beneath him, but wasted no time in using his shield to deflect the chained dagger that was thrown at him by his Target. An assassin from the Enchene assassin's order. Damian took off, putting all the weight of his armored body onto the balls of his feet and lunging forward at the Enchene. He threw his spear at the assassin, who side stepped it and threw one one his chained daggers at Damian again. Allowing the dagger to graze just past his helmet, Damian shoulder tackled the Echene like a raging bull, then spun and shield bashed the assassin, causing the assassin to fly off to the right like a rag doll. Damian then grabbed the chain of the chained dagger out of the air and ripped it towards him. Assassin came back him Damian, who shoved his armored grease into the assassin's skull, then stomped down. There was a satisfying 'crush' and 'splutter' sound combination from the skull being obliterated and the contents shotgunning all over the ground.
TABTAB The Carapace unfolded off Damian's body and from the front seemed to go into his back. At the same time, Astrid walked up beside him, transparent dragon wings seeming to appear on his back and disappear within a moment. She simply smirked and continued along the wide open space bordered by shops and buildings on either side. Damian just shook his head and silently followed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxAstridtheDarkflameDragon
Strength: 7 (+3 Carapace) Speed: 6 (-1 Carapace) Talent: Authoritative Presence: Mind-Based Statuses (Charms, fears, etc.) are treated as though they were one rank lower when calculating the effectiveness of the spell/ability. Damian also has access to the use of Shields. Carapace:X {Active} | Non-Carapace: X Weapons: ~ Spear ~ Shield Energy Meter: 500 Voices in My Head:X
If there was ever a time that a man could change, it was in his lowest point. Rock bottom. The state of life where you could fall no lower, disappoint no one, including yourself. But perhaps there wasn't such a thing? There was always a deeper pit to fall in to, the choice whether to fall in or not was entirely up to the person in question. A series of unfortunate events led to the apparent rock bottom faced by the former king. Change was not very well accepted by many, including Alistair. A man with such a predictable routine was easily faltered by the slightest change in his routine. Get up. Go to the fort and train a new batch of soldiers. Scare the living s**t out of each and every one of them until they became immune to the fear. Chase after Red...
That was the moment everything changed. The accommodation of a love interest made Alistair do whatever it took to secure his spot by her side. He loved her, and that will never change.As tough as he was on her, the man will never be free. The latch she placed on him was too strong. The feelings she mangled out of him were too sincere. She was a wolf in the night who stole whatever trace of humanity he had left. His heart warmed for a short while and his heart beat just a bit faster whenever she would walk past him. Then she left. Everything crashed from there. Even without Red's presence, his heart still beats faster when the thought of her arises. His heart still warmed as he reminisced about her. Much to his dismay, he couldn't stop feeling what he felt. Perhaps that is what a first love actually is, an unconditional love that will never go away. Not even with the replacement of such a person.
Not too long ago, Alistair once again found himself in the company of a very strong figure in Axiom: West. The Incubus would never stray too far from Alistair, claiming he was intrigued by the hybrid. The way he called to his people, using a mixture of fear and respect to rally his allies and soldiers. It would be a lie to think that Alistair didn't enjoy the compliments he received from West. But it was not the compliments that drew him to West, nor was it the natural sex appeal the Incubus gave off. The similarities between the two excited the man. To find someone who had gone through the same things was... refreshing. Too many times had he been approached by strangers and advisers that told him that they knew what kind of predicament the man was in and that they understood everything that was going on. But how could they understand what was going on with Alistair when he couldn't even figure it out himself?
Alistair faced many internal problems. They were eventually his downfall. His inability to resolve his internal conflicts was a weakness that was exploited by many, including his former paramour, Red. He was naive, complacent and mentally weak. As much as he thought he was well versed in social skills and how to react to the many conflicts that arose, due to his discipline gained from training in his class specialization, he fell pray to the simplest of things. Something that he told himself constantly that he would never need. Love. Thinking about it now sounding foolish to him, but back then, he fell for everything. The ridiculous and pointless gift of hindsight annoyed him to imaginable lengths. Alistair always questioned why stress affected decisions. Why could people make decisions as clearly as when they look back on them? Because of time? Time is relative, proven by those who can manipulate it.
Perhaps he was looking at everything quite wrong. Or possibly completely wrong. To think that he was the object of change is understandable, but possibly false. It wasn't so far fetched to think that Alistair wasn't the variable.Like many, he could just be a possible dependent, waiting for the world to change so that he could change with it. Only problem is that Alistair never could quite change as fast as the world wanted him to. So he had to reiterate his thesis.
...The world has changed.
It was something that the fallen king often muttered to himself. Words of utter nonsense were just about all that came out of Alistair's mouth these days. Even as he mindlessly walked the streets of the square countless times per day, Alistair could not grasp how much the world had changed. Combat seemed more about ho much one could dish out, not the severity of the magic used. Stamina was important nowadays. Not that Alistair couldn't compare, but he did have to make minor adjustments to his combat style. He wasn't just fighting against people anymore, afterall.
Posted: Mon Jun 01, 2015 3:21 am
There's not a single man in the Kingdom that can compare to you, she said, smiling with her eyes - smiling as she stared into his, falsely buttering him with compliments he did not need. It was false because there was a man. A single man. And a woman. It had always been as such - a sort of rivalry between the three, those with the most influence in this Kingdom. Brydent, Lilith . . . and Alistair.
"The one you believe gone - the Maric who I bend the knee to - still lives behind our walls," he told her. "And I'm not the best. Remember that. The demons still walk among us." His words were true. Neither he nor his two beloved rivals could ever compete with a pure demon - not even all three combined. Emperor West was the weakest demon in the world, and he was still the strongest of this plane. "But you are a demon," she said to him too, in response, more praises.
"I'm not," Brydent responded. "I am Vaet Diabolos."
- - - -
The Captain of Nocturne was never a man for friendship. He sort of always loathed it, really - that feeling of being attached to something and dragged down. Anchored by love. Anchored by lust. By committee and commitment, by familial piety or anything that drew him to another instead of to himself, his nation, his duty. Perhaps that was why he was always so cruel to everyone else. Even those who could assist him, and who wanted to, he always blocked them out. It made him a very unpopular man. He found that now that he wasn't the strongest anymore, the people no longer flocked to him at all. He had become somewhat lonely, only ever issuing orders by means of scripts and datalogs, always telling people from afar - never having a voice whisper to his ears but a sycophant's or a prostitute's.
The saddest thing was that he was always afraid. There was one man that he desperately clung to in his solitude - he remembered his loyalty to him, and how that man elevated his status to where it was now, all the way from before, back when Brydent was still a fairhair. But things had changed. Zachariah had made him a Vaet Diabolos. Brydent could no longer run nude with the wolves across the frozen shores. He couldn't smell the people's breaths from miles away. He couldn't howl to the moon and receive a howl back. He was a creature that he now loathed - a pure demon, a manifestation of hatred, desire and emptiness. The curse bestowed upon him by Zachariah was his excuse for hating this new God - this new King. Sadly it also made him fear a return to Alistair, who he had always admired at the bottom of his heart, in the center of his soul, and at the base of his mind.
But things were changing and he couldn't be afraid anymore. Brydent was alone in this world. That couldn't go on forever - he needed a friend. He needed loyalty. He needed something other than a demon's cold embrace and a dark voice whispering over his shoulder. "My King," Brydent spoke, though no one would hear him - he was trying to recall with just what fondness he laid into that word. It used to be a fond word indeed, but now it was just one filled with anger and fear. "My Old King." He whispered to himself. That was what he'd taken to calling Alistair - the man who he missed dearly. He'd whispered of his fondness to others, other men and other women. Ones that he trusted. He bode them to find the whereabouts of this forsaken man. And finally . . . his little Mer prostitute, the one with the ashen hair, had found Alistair far removed from the reins of society. Brydent jumped at the chance.
So he was here now - in the flesh, his black branded mark against his skin, a leather vest and pants that went to his ankles. No shoes. Black gauges. He was as casual as ever - but only to delay the thought from Zachariah's mind as to what sort of treason he wished for. He wanted . . . for Alistair to return to the throne. And he'd already known of a little gift from above known as a Thorn of God. "Alistair," he yelled, finding the pondering man and waiting no moment to contact him. "It's Brydent. Your oathsworn."
There is nothing we can do, Alistair! Just go! The words often played back in his head since the day Hawke shouted them. It was the day that signified his removal from power. The day that the demons finally penetrated the walls of the city. The day when the fate of his people was sealed. And he wasn't even there. Alistair, the king, was far too busy with matters of the flesh. Many of the loyal soldiers ran to other kingdoms. They became refugees from their own home. May were uprooted from the homes, incapable of reforming. Incapable of following anyone but Alistair, who had served as the King since the spineless dreadnought king abandoned the city, fearing civil war. For years, Alistair served as king. Popular with the people enough to rise to power from the very bottom. Their beloved king would always be there to protect the city and it's inhabitants, to secure the booming industrial economy and to ensure the world that Nocturne stands as powerful as ever.
They were wrong.
...Alistair failed them.
A lucky man would be able to say that he defended the city as much as he could. His last breath was spent overwhelming the enemy for as long as possible. Instead, all Alistair could say was that he had a good ********. A weekend away that turned into a week of indulging created the perfect window to lay siege to a city. It was a mistake that Alistair could never repeat again. He would never have the chance to make a kingly mistake. A werewolf removed as the pack leader was always tossed aside, kicked out of the pack. An elder vampire who betrayed his family or coven was laid to waste. What was to become of Alistair, being both of these things? He finally achieved the acceptance he desperately desired since becoming what people called an abomination when he rose to power. Many found that his horrid strength was beneficial to the city.
But after all of that, it wasn't enough. Alistair needed more. He became more dependent on others more so than he could care to admit. He didn't deserve the respect people gave him, nor did he deserve the throne. As such, Alistair made no attempts on Zachariah to take back the throne like any desperate rebel king would. He sat back, defeated. Living in his city like nothing happened. The power would never return, and he would go down in history as the king who was far too mentally weak to rule, who allowed the demon, Zachariah to take over.
It was then that he heard a dark, whisper. My king... My old king. Finally, his own demons have come to mock him. The king who failed the nation. Many satirized, joking of its lack of reform to much of anything. How he kept to the old ways because he lacked the necessary mind to reform the laws and customs of the city. "There is no need to mock me... I know of my failures." The saddest part is that Alistair couldn't even discern what was actually said from the voices in his head.It was only when Brydent shouted to him that Alistair understood that the voice came from the younger boy he met... when he was still king. It was understandable for Brydent to still consider Alistair the king, but he wasn't. As he turned to face the boy running to catch up to Alistair, he opened his mouth to speak, but found himself momentarily blocked. He couldn't find the words.
After exhaling, he found his words once more. "...Brydent." Few memories came to mind when he spoke Brydent's name. The two met briefly, though the encounter was most memorable. Alistair had plenty of knights swear fealty to the city, and indirectly to Alistair. But Brydent swore fealty to Alistair himself, and Alistair quite enjoyed the fact that he did. Brydent was strong, even when he initially joined the militia. Alistair knew that Brydent had no rival in his class, except for Lilith. So Alistair wholeheartedly agreed to oversee the younger wolf's training. But from the smell of it, Brydent was no longer such. He was no longer kin, and yet Alistair still felt the bond of loyalty. "You should be serving Zachariah now, shouldn't you? There is no need to waste time here with me. I am keeping to myself, here. I told Zachariah that I would not interfere..."
Posted: Mon Jun 01, 2015 4:58 am
"I don't care what you told Zachariah." The man stared up to the eyes of his King and did not falter in his confidence. He didn't acknowledge that the man had fallen, to some degree - to a pit far enough that he couldn't rightfully get out on his own. "Contrary to the boy you may have met at Fort Makath, I am now a man. A self-actualizing man. A man of extreme power. The Duke of Gettera, Lord of Gloria en Valle. Captain of Nocturne. I serve you always, but I have ascended far from a position of obedience. I've come here today to issue you a strongly worded request. I hope that you will listen carefully, my King." He didn't bother sugar-coating his words, being sweet or kind. That wasn't how he ever was around Alistair - they were both the same guttural, rude, forward bastards that they could expect one another to be. They were just natural that way.
The man stood tall and firm, like always. He was towering - a beast of a creature, with a strong physicality and eyes that could disintegrate dragons. Brydent had grown to eclipse his former expectations. He knew that Alistair could tell, too, how much he'd grown. It was his strength that he used as leverage against the King - to let him know that whatever allies he had, they weren't weak. "There is an angel by the name of Daniel. You may have known of him. When you were still King I could smell demon all over you, but not the lot we have now. A demon that was barely a demon at all. One touched by an angel. I remembered that scent from before - it was similar to the Nephilim of my home nation, Yuran. I kept that scent and its texture locked in my memory. Just recently, a nostalgic feeling overcame me. I could yet again recognize that an angel was near me - and yet it wasn't here to play a harp or sing a tune. It wasn't in Nocturne for peace, but to unleash the dogs of heaven. The Thorns of God. I only watched passively as this entity drew power from his surroundings, and more passive still when he formed these prickly hounds. I didn't sit in dumb awe however. I realized . . . that this was my opportunity." Maybe Alistair would never quite understand just what Brydent wanted so badly. His true aim - and the reason why he put so much stock into Alistair.
He would never, perhaps, get why Brydent was willing to involve himself as an enemy of a God and risk being crushed beneath his hilt. Brydent knew, though. He knew that when Alistair was King, he wanted peace with Fraxon. That was why he could smell the loving embrace of an angel-kissed demon against the man's skin. The blood of West. He didn't want the sort of slaughter that Zachariah fantasized over - but even then he wasn't weak. He was strong and temperate. He was the King that this nation deserved. And he was still, for the most part, mortal enough to preside over the subjects of the third plane without unleashing unnecessary wrath. The demons didn't give a s**t about anyone but themselves. They could never be given the right to rule.
"A Thorn will find itself lodged into Zachariah's paw. I wish to ensure that there will be a man other than myself willing to push it deeper. To finish the blow; destroy the usurper of the Maric throne. My words will soon reach Lilith, even knowing that she may betray me. I don't care. I want you to know that I fight for you still, and always, even veiled under the guise of being a loving vassal beneath a Dark Lord. Do you believe me?" He looked deeper into his eyes. "And if you do, will you cast aside your fear?"
Nocturne was a seedy world of murderers, pillagers, hoarders, demons, devils, vampires, werewolves and all sorts of negativity steeped knee deep in debauchery on any given day. Power was currency and knowledge fueled that. So when a whisper was spoken into the ear of a certain succubus she almost immediately jumped on the chance to see if it was true. Lilith chose to embark on this journey alone, wanting to attract as little attention as possible. That on its own was still a difficult thing to do as she was well known around these parts. A long time ago she had sworn to herself that hiding behind different appearances was beneath her. Originality was important and no one had a style like hers. The blonde hair, the innocent and soft look; it suited her so well. It was always a surprise to people when those deep brown eyes held a haughty contempt so powerful they could feel it pressing them down to the ground as if she was grinding them to dust with her heels. So instead she wore a hood. Luckily her disguise was not overly needed on this particular night. The square was mostly empty, save for a few figures. One of them was a person she had gotten to know quite well in the past few months. What had started as a one time fling wound up as something more. It was not the same way Lilith felt for Nox, not by a long shot. There was some sort of seriously passionate and powerful attraction between the two. Even seeing the diabolos now had the succubus biting her lip thinking of their most recent sexcapades. The way that Aurelia clawed at her back and held on as if her life depended as she screamed out her name. Heat rising in her cheeks the image in her mind had put a swish to her hips and a pep in her step.
It seemed destined that her night was going to be getting even better. The outline of a man grew in to focus turned out to be none other than Alistair Maric, former King of Nocturne. The succubus had yet to have the chance to rub it in that he was no longer exalted, merely another little fish in a very big pond. She really did not have anything against Alistair, in fact she had respected him. The hybrid was powerful and had displayed that strength during some raid of ghouls awhile ago. Other than that Lilith had barely even spoken to him. Now was her chance to potentially collect a potent ally. A smirk spread across her face as she made herself known, not taking the time to conceal her energy or step lightly. There was no point in subterfuge in this moment. Lilith absentmindedly stroked the spot where her mark was; inner thigh near her sweet spot. With this ever present gift from her lord she would know the thoughts that flickered in and out of his mind. No one would be getting the upper hand here tonight. Besides, this was a supposed friendly gathering that would present Lilith with a brilliant opportunity."Well well, King Alistair Maric out for a stroll. Lovely night to contemplate sudden losses?" The man probably would not be overtly surprised. Not only was Lilith an actual succubus she grew up in Nocturne. People were not exactly kind to each other, especially when one had dedicated themselves to the lord of pain and pleasure. The real reason for her typical head b***h in charge display was to test the waters. It would be a terrible idea for her to come out right and ask him if he was ready to participate in the greatest coup d'etat of any age. If the wrong words got out and made their way to the ears of Zacariah she would be a giant pile of dead, albeit a pretty pile.
• Extremely seductive. Like Incubi, you possess the ability to instantly seduce others as long as they're two ranks below you. It's said that this becomes possible only due to their astounding beauty, but that is only a supplement. The Succubi are indeed far more beautiful than all other races, but their seduction lies in the magical energy they are born with. This energy flows around them and into the air like cells into a vein, bewitching any they seek.
• Lilith has developed the ability to detect the emotional state of the people near her and manipulate her succubus aura to merely make people around her feel very wanting of the more pleasurable acts. They become lascivious ratchet hoes, making it easier for Lilith to seduce people. This makes it so people one rank under Lillith are instantly seduced. If the opponent thinks they will be harmed the aura is broken. If Lilith tries to kill the target they are snapped out of it as well.
• Arcane Arts: Her magic spells are quite devastating should one hit you. (+1 rank to magic)
• Ability to manifest certain aspects of the demon at will. They can extend wings, sharp fingernails, as well as horns when they please.
• Detect Magic The user can detect magic. This means when others cast spells, or emanate high amounts of energy, you can see their aura. This also means you can detect magic in an area, meaning if an area has something magical about it, you can feel it. At higher ranks, you can determine the source in an area.
• Vibration Sensory A useful skill, the user channels energy into their feet to sense vibrations on the ground. As long as their feet is on the ground, a user can sense where an enemy is if they are earth bound within 50ft for five posts. This skill becomes passive once the user is Adept Rank.
Technique
Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2015 3:23 am
(Reposting for Hiro. I recovered this baby. Aw yiss.)
One of the most identifying features of the king were his trademark azure blue eyes he inherited the day he was turned into a hybrid. His blood ran thick like a vampire's, yet hot like a lycan's. His piercing eyes were often a means of intimidation. The azure ran deeper, darker even, than all others. Alistair always told himself it was because of his hybrid status, not that anyone could confirm it. He was, after all, the first Vampire/Lycan to exist. Few others followed suit to imitate Alistair's power, but it wasn't just the power of the two bloodlines that made Alistair powerful. Everything that made Alistair to who he was... that was what made him so strong as a hybrid. He embraced the strength he already had in conjunction with the natural strength provided with the change.
But his azure eyes were gone. His last transformation was months ago. His skin was nearly ice cold. Worst of all... his shadows hadn't spoken a word to him since the day he was removed from power. What was a lycan that could not run on the full moon, or simply whenever he felt like it? What was an Elder Vampire with no connections to his shadows? He had not heard Hawke's voice since that last day. He couldn't even feel her presence. Perhaps she was hiding. She didn't want to show her face to the man she looked up to for so long after he failed everyone. Zachariah was not the cause of his feelings of defeat. The presence of the demon meant nothing to him. But what could a man do when everything that made him himself was gone? He still had superb senses and his speed and strength never failed him, but he wished to run free with his prowlers and Hawke.
Brydent's words cut deep. *I am now a man.* Perhaps prior dealings with Brydent caused Alistair to look and see the man as the same boy who came to him before. But he was right. Brydent grew up, he was much stronger. His energy levels were through the roof and though his eyes did not run blue anymore, his strength was also off the charts. Alistair had only seen something like it maybe once before. Vaet Diabolos. A demon. It would be easy to see Brydent as a enemy, but Alistair could never do such a thing. But as much as Alistair wanted to listen, his spirit was gone. But he would try nonetheless.
When Brydent mentioned the angel, Daniel, Alistair nodded. It wasn't much of a choice for him to learn of the deities that plagued the third plane. Alistair had to know his enemies. But to hear of Brydent's encounter with Daniel inside of Nocturne's borders... the deities were getting riled up. Eventually an all out war will ensue, and it will destroy everything. Especially Nocturne, being a main battlefield with Zachariah taking root here. "They'll destroy Nocturne. Luimira will be laid to waist... If Daniel came here to kill Zachariah, they two wouldn't care of the casualties of their battle. Everything..." For a split second his eyes flashed a bright azure blue. "... will be destroyed." But the way Brydent worded things... it didn't sound like he wanted Daniel to come to Nocturne. Instead, he spoke as if he would be the one to make the first strike against Zachariah. Perhaps such a feat could be done, but it wasn't going to be like Kaminae's downfall. With the discovery of her weakness, three more than average joes were able to defeat the Sea Witch.
"You know that it will take more than just three people, regardless of what weapon you have. Zachariah is worlds more powerful than Kaminae ever was, and even more powerful than Daniel. There is a reason why no one has contested with him so far. Fear has nothing to do with fighting a god like Zachariah. His true power is unknown, and we would be going in blind." The more Alistair talked about it, he found himself becoming increasingly intrigued. Heat began emanating from his body as the subject began to pique his interest. The more the odds seemed against them, the more spirited Alistair seemed to feel. Alistair was never excited by power, it was always the fight that did it for him. Regrettably, he was far too busy to assist in the fight against Kaminae, just a West was, but he would not stand by as others fought a battle he had to fight.
Alistair knew that whatever Brydent was telling him was the truth, and if it wasn't... then he would never learn his lesson. "You will always have my faith, Brydent. My fears are not of Zachariah, but of the absence of everything that has made me... me. I have not heard the slightest echo from my shadows... I have not transformed, nor have I felt the moon empowering me as I have in the past. My fear is that I am no longer the man I once was. This King that deserves the throne... how are you so sure that the same man is standing before you tonight? You place a lot of stake in a man you swore an oath to, but I fear that you are free from that oath as that man no longer exists." Alistair fell silent after those last few words. He wasn't that man anymore. That much he was sure about. But he wasn't so sure that was a bad thing.
For years, many took advantage of Alistair's naivety. They exploited his weakness to obtain many things. Red was one of them. Alistair never even noticed because he was far too busy worrying about respect and ensuring his nation's strength. But perhaps he needed what West had: a mindset for politics. The men who advised him had more wealth than Alistair ever had, they told him it was due to prior investments. Though the money came from the city's funds, and Alistair eventually found out, he did nothing. The city was running fine, and corruption wasn't anything new in Luimira. But the corruption grew. Now those advisers serve Zachariah, and not a single one of them reached out to Alistair when he came back to the city. They considered him to no longer be a threat. They were wrong.
*They always were, Alistair...* A faint feminine whisper echoed through out his mind. Four words which immediately caused a slight growl of uncontrolled anger. She was still here. Always there. Silent in his time of need, yet loud when he had already assured himself that he could no longer sit by idly while the world changed around him. This entire time... the silencing of his shadows was Hawke's doing. What was the point of her keeping him at rock bottom? To protect him from lashing out at Zachariah in anger? To prevent him from seeking retribution? Justice? Vengeance?
*I only sought to ensure your immediate recovery. Your spirit was broken, not even I could mend it. I knew from the day you placed everything in me that not even I could fix your every flaw as you did with me. You seek it in many people. Me. Red. West. All of us were supposed to fix you. You wanted us to fix you. There's nothing to fix. You were admired by many, and you still are. Not because of your strength, but because of your purity. Demonic, yet not evil. You do not seek the death and destruction of your enemies... Listen to Brydent. Perhaps he can confirm what I am telling you, and maybe you will finally believe it. You share a bond with him that not even years of service has given me.*
As she spoke, Alistair merely listened to both her and Brydent. Brydent seemed sure that Alistair should still be on the throne. Maybe he was right, and if he was, Alistair would approach things much differently than before. The world wasn't as simple as it was once before, and it was a good thing. It prompted change, which was what Nocturne needed. The nation was once strong. It seized lands when it wanted and for a time, it was a great empire. Complacent actions saw that the empire weakened, and lands restored. It was time to recreate that empire. One that rivaled Aramil. But there were many things that needed to be taken care of first. As he listed them in his mind, his pupils began to shine a deep azure blue once again. The first on his list was clear. Zachariah.
Alistair looked back up at Brydent, his long pause was probably making Brydent impatient for an answer. "I will."
Night had descended upon the nocturnal city. With it came life, strange as the metaphor was. There were a lot of people there, if you could call them that. More like lots of nefarious beings with nothing but bad vibes everywhere. It was think with the air of smugness in the business district.There were weapons being openly carried around so Aurelia, 80% demon in her own right, could fit right in, but if stock somehow found her she would be in serious trouble. Instead, she was with her squad in the underground, quite literally. The rebel forces had based themselves, quite literally, under the ground, below the square. A few, well hidden entrances with magic password entry, some old school architecture, and a lot of secret funding allowed it to come to life. It wasn't super high tech, most of the stuff could be burned on a moments notice. Upon arriving down a dark ally and ensuring no one could have followed them, Jack leaned a hand against a wall, whispering an ancient word of power from thin, serious lips. He watched as the wall seemed to fade away, fairly inconspicuously, and a set of stairs were revealed. Aurelia brought up the back of the group, able to sense if anyone was behind them. No one important was but people were indeed coming their way. She gave a whistle, a signal to hurry the ******** up, and they shuffled down the steps. When the pair, a drunken vampire seduced by an incubus, wandered down that ally to get down to business, she leaned her back against the wall that wasn't there before, sliding down to her knees and using it as support. It was dark, so dark that Jack had to use his magical predilection to fire for light. Forty steps down, and they reached a second door, a large frame they couldn't hope to blow open. Jack and Ziggs stood at the front, Jill and Tricks in tow. Aurelia was, still, in the back eager but clear of the way. Six loud raps rang out across the silent halls. The sound of a fist in metal banging against more metal was quite annoying. Interestingly enough, Aurelia couldn't feel the door with her magnetic connection. It's not ferromagnetic. Good to know. A slide in the door opened, revealing bulletproof glass in the space. A voice bounced from wall to wall in the room. "Password!" it grumbled. Jack cleared his throat. "In silence we come." The slide closed, and there was a moment of utter silence, the kind in a cave where no man has ever been, no living being. Deadly silent. Then there was noise. So much noise that Aurelia winced a bit as the metal slid open. Hopefully the magic door kept noise out or that vampire would have an earful in addition to a mouth full.
Inside there was a world all its own. Men and women, humans, running back and forth, guns in one hand and babies in the other. It was a surprise to see refugees down here, escapees from the culling of humans. A few of them bore marks from the insurrection. Aurelia was immediately uncomfortable at the sight. She had taken part in the beginning raids... some of these families may have been directly influenced by her. She followed the small group, not looking anyone in their eyes when they passed a shack in the underground shanty town. Jack looked over his shoulder, seeing Aurelia's somber glean and leaned back a bit. "Don't do that to yourself. We all ahave history. It's what we do from here that matters. Look at them. See their faces." Aurelia rose her head, her eyes meeting a woman with scars across her face. Her eyes burned into the Diabolos's mind forever. Her platinum hair, dirty but still full of its former shine... her dirt stained pale skin, the callous lips and hard gaze. A solemn vow was shared there. Aurelia would bring him down for more than just her own revenge. She was anything if she was a good person, but she had a moral compass to adhere to. Neutrality towards good and evil, with a chaotic inclination meant anyone who crossed her would meet the same end as their peers in that region. She was relieved when she couldn't see the woman among the people moving this or that around, wheeling parts to this place or ferrying food to that region. She ducked into a room with her allies, where a large man with a commando suit and long black dreadlocks was located. He was kneeling, as if in prayer to the gods, the ones he chose anyway. He stood up, easily 8ft tall, and turned around to look down at the crew with a strained expression. "You must be Tungsteon. You don't look so tough..." Aurelia snorted at him, though he was undaunted. "Thats a good thing," his deep voice boomed down, his lank, grey eyes seeming to be focused on them but not for certain. "They won't suspect yah." Jack and Jill met eyes, smiling at the irony considering that was the story of their lives. Ziggy and Aurelia were more impressed with his technology considering this was an underground operation. "Seems like you all have been quite successful in the war of attrition. Your body armor is too advanced and current to be what refugees just come across."
"Yet it just happens to be damaged enough to have seen some recent combat, suggesting recent activity after you got it, but not so long ago," Ziggy tagged on. The man looked impressed.
"Attention to detail. That is a good quality to have. I am Tah'lee. It is a pleasure to meet you all. As you said, we have found successes, but not without sacrifice." He pointed at the wall, adorned with dogtags. "Hereford, where we hang the tags or write the names of our dead. It's been growing recently. I was paying respect." He admitted placing a hand over a few names. He pointed at the stairs behind him. "Overseer office is awaiting." Aurelia was the last to go, thinking on how many more friends she may see die on this day. She shook the feeling of foreboding she got from the dark room and headed behind Jokez up the stairs. Once at the top, one last door stood between them and Makarov. He was staring out over the people, on what sounded like an important call from the tone he was projecting. "No. I shall not see these people go hungry while you all play at war... I DON'T CARE. I called a retreat from your positions. You will not draw unneeded attention to us. Daniel's Throns are of no concern to you. When our time comes, I will bring down the Hammer. Until then, focus on supply runs. Starve them, take their munitions after their rations... Thank you, Makraov out." He sighed, rubbing his forhead as the sound of the door closing reached his ears.
"I said I wasn't to be disturbed Tah-" he paused, seeing the familiar faces. "Jack, Jill, and Aurelia before my eyes. How long has it been now?" Aurelia smiled. "Not so long I forgot the way vodka on the breath smells." The two of them laughed a bit as he fiddled with his keyboard, leaning over his desk. "I'm surprised. You leading a rebel force against the military?" He smiled at Jill's meek voice, rarely heard but always listened to. "I agree. Didn't think you'd stop being a ghost." Makarov looked at his windows as they darkened and turned into a screen for his intent. "I haven't. Zachariah still thinks me dead. Trust, I have no intention of changing his view on the matter." Aurelia shrugged as files began opening and Ziggy's eyes turned blue, streaming the data along faster in his mind. "I'd love to catch up but there is business to attend. Look here. Our target."
Aren Niles appeared on screen, an old, somewhat large demon with a predilection for betrayal. "He will be set up in the high moon casino, enjoying his lavish lifestyle while his secrutiy detail, along with multiple military contractors, assure he is safe. I got word from our boys working in the hotel that your buddies got their passes and are working under the guise of paramilitary security inspectors. Theyre gonna get us an in-depth view so long as they don't break their cover. Tweak is the outlier, she is posing as their attack dog... cat. I think they'll manage it alright. As for the rest of us, we need to mobilize soon. Im just waiting on them to turn on the damn glasses..." he said. As he said this, the three large windows each showed a different view, each one looking at a mirror. Blue, Tweak, Trickz. All of them sharp as knives in thier tuxedos. "Alright, here we go." Blue said clearing his throat and adjusting his bowtie. "The resistance boys really hooked us up. Hope this thing is on and im not talking to myself. Ziggy spoke into his earpiece. "We here you, now don't do anything stupid."
Blue exited the bathroom, looking around to give us a view of the room. Security at all entrances, some undercover playing at the games, most of them blending right in to untrained eyes. He passed a pair of mean looking shades, carrying rifles and remarking quietly on their observations. Tweak was crawling through the vents silently by that point, getting us a look from above. We had tagged more than thirty of the 200 people present as regular security, another 20 special ops. Jokes was being escorted by one of the contractor brass, explaining troop rotations, patrols, type of security, races etc. He looked nervous as Jokez wrote things down for us to see, keeping his notes private but still coded. One of them was direct and pointed. "Meeting Stock & Niles soon. Will try to draw out. 2000 hrs." We had until 8, and it was noon. Not a lot of time, but enough for Ziggy to tap into their security cameras and find the room where Stock and Niles were. Stock... the mere sight on the middle screen, shared with Blue, made Aurelia's blood curdle. However, the feed was temporary as Ziggy didn't want to intrude for too long. We only saw them arguing over something, probably Niles wanting some space.
"Alright, I think we have seen enough," Makarove said, turning off the screens. "We need to get everyone set up and in position." Aurelia nodded to him, but he would grab her shoulder as the rest of the crew filed out, and the hustle downstairs kicked up even more than before. "I know why you started shooting. It's okay to pick up a blade again, Aurelia," he said turning and holding a black box. Makarov seemed slow to move, carrying it with labored steps and sitting it on a table. Aurelia refused to let the memories come back to the forefront of her mind as he flipped the locks keeping it closed open. She looked away as it was revealed... Conwell. It had been the sword she trained with alongside that girl. The one who died. Aurelia sighed, looking down upon it, to her surprise with it's twin sister weapon... Connie. Aurelia looked Makarov in his eyes, his face grim and serious. He closed the box, knowingly, and handed it to her. This was almost a final act for him, something one does on their last legs. She nodded, taking it in the hand opposite her sniper. The truth of Aurelia, that she was not a gunslinger truly, no she was just pretending as she would pretend to be an Incubus with Futures, or a Lich with Deformation of Nature. No, Aurelia was trained a Knight, but found her calling as a Weapon Master. With no further words, she filed out, seeing Jokez in jeep form, with her team ready and waiting. She took her seat behind the wheel, putting her hands on it as if she had some semblance of control. Her wapons in the trunk with the rest were at the front of her consciousness, anxiety taking over as she considered having to use a blade once again. Weather that time would come or things would go off withotu a hitch remained to be seen as Operation Mile High began.
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Posted: Thu Jul 30, 2015 1:00 pm
Convictions were what drove Alistair. There were many people who called the man stubborn, or just down right mean. But Alistair was about as worried about their feeling as he was about their existence. The choices he made when he allowed this city to fall were undoubtedly foolish, but there wasn't much the man could ever do to make up for it. Well, that's what he told people, at least. Most were under the impression that Alistair's power somehow stemmed from his position. Being king did not make him stronger, nor did it teach him anything about combat. True, he was no longer king, and because of that he lost the support of many of the people who claimed to be loyal to him. Mostly, though, he lost the respect of the people. If he were strong enough to oppose Zachariah, he could have prevented the attack on Yuran, which destroyed the nation's only source of precious metals. Zachariah attacked not caring for the nation's trade system. He would be here long after the nation falls, after all.
But many expected Alistair to drive the demons off, to keep the city safe. It all seemed stupid now for him to think that the option was even feasible. Alistair was certainly deemed strong by many, however the same people who now ridiculed him for his lack of strength are the same ones who lack the will to fight back. Cowards. That's all they were. There are many who believe Zachariah is a force that cannot be stopped, he is a god after all. But Alistair refused to believe it. Gods were only beings of great power, not invulnerable creatures. It was evident when Zachariah first approached Alistair in his office. Before the demon took power from beneath Alistair's nose, there might have been a time where the demon was afraid to act. Nocturne's military was as active as ever, and strength bloomed, for a while at least. Promising new recruits began to reveal themselves.
As though on cue, a force beyond him seemed to pull his body back from Brydent, shifting his head and gaze over to a single moving point in the area. Power like he hadn't seen in quite some time in Nocturne... a Succubus. The scent was quite clear, however his ability to pin point exactly who it was... he couldn't. Every step the Succubus took seemed to increase the effect of her pull. Surely other figures would turn their gaze to look at her in an instant, already smitten by her. But as much as the Succubus pulled, Alistair pulled back. It wasn't his first game, unfortunately for the Succubus. Alistair found himself cornered once before by someone he thought he knew, her spirit corrupted by force he knew well. Lust had a way of always finding Alistair. From the times Marishka toyed with him to the time that Red revealed herself to be her new host.
Here she was again, a spawn of the Sin, Lust. Toying with his mind again. However, when his eyes became clear of desire, he saw the Succubus for who she really was. By that time, the woman had already stopped walking. Already face to face with him. Lilith, a former student. How cruel fate was to him. It seemed like he would forever be haunted by Lust and her spawnlings as if he'd been marked. "Lilith... you look, well, healthy. I don't lose, Lilith. I simply pause the game to rest, that's all." Like Brydent, Lilith took a new path entirely.One that suited her much more. From the time he saw her in the fort, her power levels seemed to fly through the roof. "I don't suppose you're here just because you like taking a forever night time stroll? Must be fun, taking a walk just to grab some attention. How... typical." The response came almost naturally to him, a side effect of living in Nocturne.
