A massive, bustling metropolis on the docks; a place where first breaths are taken, where dreams are imagined and where hearts connect. It remains on the border of Nocturne, one of the few places in the nation untouched by Vaet Nocturnum, and thus a center of agriculture. It is also a major trade port in commerce between Nocturne and its neighbors, firstly due to its geographical closeness to Pronta and Kusana, and secondly with many traders refusing to enter the cold and desolate Lumira and instead preferring the beautiful and artistic Gloria en Valle. Militarily, however, it lacks; it tends to attract the more wealthy, artistic, cultural types of individuals. Thus, it is a very rich city, but most of its defenses come from Nocturne's royal army.
Posted: Fri Aug 29, 2014 11:48 pm
nu███████XXX███████XXX███████XXX███████ numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS♕》*WEMARCHON! bad apple
xxx n×◞KING ⊰OF(FRONTA)*⇣EMPEROR OF♕FRAXON! by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:THE SIN OF PRIDE
Journal Entry: 8th Cycle, 14th Day, 817th Year
In order to pursue power and prestige, one must think outside of the box. Empires do not rise at the hands of simpletons, but people who question and interact with the world around them. My inquiry as to demons and angels is what secured me my position as the Emperor of Fraxon, and past that, my willingness to sacrifice everything for my gambit landed me Aramil all those years ago. Of course, there were others that sacrificed as well, more than just I. There are others who wondered and, ultimately, had gambits. The one I speak of today is Isis. I discovered her notes and -- essentially -- a journal of her own from inside of her private quarters. This interested me, wondering what she might have been thinking as she remained at my side. Not surprisingly, all of her entries were very straightforward and ultimately related to furthering my reign and Aramil's prominence. But there was one entry that specifically got to me -- about the angels and the demons, and whether or not any of them knew the truth of what Axiom really was. "A universe within a universe", was what she called it.
What did she mean by 'a universe within a universe'? Is Axiom not a part of one singular entity -- Kala -- but instead something else? A different fabric overlapping or perhaps a different plane altogether? Is that why we are so detached from everything beyond our atmosphere? And would the same apply to the sun and the moon? If so, then what is the source of energy that runs this world, as there are sources that run the stars beyond? Surely something that perpetuates life and growth must be fueled by something? In a way, you could consider the world even more complicated and benign than the sun. It was smaller, certainly, but it was not simply a ball of flame. A creature that could manipulate the whole of the world would be something with mastery over many things . . . over the wind, the flame, the earth and the sea. You could perhaps presume that it was a collection of them -- as Solonor plowed the fields, Justor manipulated the ocean's tide, and then another angel for every single essential under the sun... but even so, what fueled the core? It was not simply self-perpetuating.
Nothing in the world is possible without energy. Our heart only beats because of our blood. And our blood only regenerates because of the energy giving our body the strength to command the order. Now, if you considered the world's core as the heart, and the magma as the blood, what energy gave them the power to interact and perpetuate life? If I can discover that, then perhaps I can either bring forth a new power... or discover a long lost, and very old one. For example, another tier two angel. One of the world; a Gaia, a creature that presides over us. Something that -- perhaps by extension -- has kept people protected by the whims of angels and demons. Something that only Michael would know of. An additional piece of programming only to come to use when the world was ultimately in a state of peril.
Now, the question is, how would one go about discovering this lost artifact of Axiom's creation? If it were obvious, it would have been found. If it were concealed, perhaps it would be so concealed that it could never be found. Perhaps it was already in Narathos' hands. Perhaps no hands could hold it, for fear of what their touch might unleash.
End Entry
He didn't exactly know what it was that he yearned for, or even if it existed, but the thought of a world without a remnant of the creator scared him. If there was not some guideline remaining to protect the people from the Gods, all of them being led by Narathos, who ultimately despised stability and peace . . . then, who was ever safe in this world?
- - - - -
He stood atop the bridge and stared into the horizon. He let his lantern sit still on the edge of the stone, the light and heat giving him some comfort even while entranced in such deep thought. He was not as West often appeared, as a strong man with dark brown hair and tan skin. No, in truth, he was the way he really was. He looked as West did, without the change to flesh and bone to make himself appear as if Giletti -- he was no longer Giletti. With Gaston dead, he left that house behind, and simply became him. West of Fraxon, of a world that boggled his limited mind.
There was never a time that Alistair felt like he couldn't handle what was going on. But as of late, he felt almost every situation was out of his hand. As if things were unfolding at a much faster rate than he could even process in his head. As a king, it was important to always stay on top of things, to be able to control the outcome of things That's what a good king did. Alistair was far from it. Because even he couldn't control the heavens. When the Vaet Nocturnum curse faded, Alistair was faced with several issues. For one, without the curse, the Vampires of Nocturne were vulnerable, as many were vampires who had yet learned to grit through the stinging UV rays of the Sun. Alistair was not affected by the sun, being a hybrid. But that didn't mean he had less to worry about. As the sun touched Nocturne for the first time since Amaterasu attempted to break the curse, every Vampire who had not yet reached the Elder State were forced to hide behind closed doors.
If not for the Vampire, Azazel, Alistair would not have known what to do. It was the Elder Vampire's idea to use the several Vampire Mages in order to recreate a much smaller version of the curse. And even then, it wasn't like before. The curse loomed over the city, but needed a constant supply of energy. To have put a curse of that magnitude over most of the country for hundreds of years... it really had Alistair wonder just how powerful Kala was. Event then, he knew that was just the tip of the iceberg. But, as the Vampires stayed inside the city, more and more Fairhairs escaped to the countryside. In a matter of days, the land was already beginning to heal. Grass was growing, showing a bright display of green on the land that hadn't been seen for ages. It was thought that in just a couple of months, Nocturne would not have to rely on it's trade with Kranila. The nation would grow stronger. It's production rate only increased with the presence of more strong Vampires working in the city. The weapon trade in Nocturne was as strong as ever.
And yet... with these new changes, Alistair found himself... yet again in the presence of West. He should be in Luimira, keeping an eye on everything, but for some reason, when he received the tip of the Emperor coming alone to the border, Alistair felt compelled to come to Gloria en Valle. He couldn't really explain it. Maybe it was because West left so abruptly the last time? It was curiosity. Did he want to continue their last discussion?
No.
Alistair was sure of it. It wasn't really because of anything. Just as Alistair was drawn to West, West was drawn to Alistair. Many disliked the relationship. Why were Alistair and West, rulers of their own respective nations mingling as if they were friends? Aramil had conquered more lands in the past couple of years than Nocturne had since it's first King rose to power. Was Nocturne next on Aramil's list? Perhaps it was. Maybe the battle would be tomorrow. Or in 100 years. But as Alistair finally approached the Emperor, he didn't feel nervous. Anxious. Afraid. He felt... intrigued to see the man again. Their last conversation was, admittedly, perhaps too open. After all, before then, they were merely acquaintances. But after that talk with West, Alistair couldn't relate to anyone more than West. It was intriguing for him. To feel excited to meet anyone.
"You've been busy."
It was all he could say. Not that it wasn't much. It was extremely true. Kranila. Fronta. His conquest seemed endless.
Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2014 1:07 pm
nu███████XXX███████XXX███████XXX███████ numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS♕》*WEMARCHON! bad apple
xxx n×◞KING ⊰OF(FRONTA)*⇣EMPEROR OF♕FRAXON! by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:THE SIN OF PRIDE
He felt the familiar presence closing in on him. To be honest, he did not expect to go unnoticed. The first time he arrived in Luimiria after going rogue and becoming the King of Aramil, a Seul in the city detected his great power and gave him the ultimatum: leave, or be hunted. Then there were others around that could feel that pull, that radiant gloss of attraction that came from being near such a powerful man. Alistair was different, he was on the next level. He could see and perceive energy better than most, on a level similar to West's sensory, though lacking in range. The thing was, he did not feel as if it was simply sensory that brought him here. He didn't think it was fear either, or at least not in abundance. There was something else that connected thee to thou, and perhaps it was as unconscious as it were psychosexual. He was not sure. Never in his life was he really sure about anything, he only put forward the most likely assumptions. Right now, he assumed that he and Alistair were both dangling from the same red thread. He was not sure how they both came to climb the same one, but now that they were connected, they wanted to engage.
In honesty, West had been hoping that Alistair would come. It wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts, but a latent desire beyond the first level that loomed over him. He looked out into the distance, and wondered, when will he come? And now he knew.
The man spoke to him. He didn't turn to see him until he'd already finished speaking, perhaps to play it coy or maybe just because he was still somewhat lost in a third dimension of thoughts. When he did turn, his facial expression quickly morphed from a frown to a slight smile, and he looked into the man's eyes. "As have you," he said, before turning back away. He tried to gather his thoughts for a moment, to explain something to himself about where he was and why he'd come. While his mind pondered the thought of a Gaia to the Solonor and the Justor, in reality he'd come here to be at peace. As a creature of darkness, he belonged in the dark. Though it seemed even that luxury was being stolen by the world's new change. "When the man at the helm of a land comes to realize that "the land" is no longer even recognizable, that creates a problem, doesn't it? It's not only Nocturne that has changed. In Fronta, my own land, I literally watched a peddler's eyes come to grow gold as he struck out and slaughtered a thief of his wares. I saw a lake of tar shift into a lake of diamond and gold. I saw water into wine. Maybe this is the beginning of something great. But..."
He sighed. Something kept telling him that this was a prelude to something awful. That the angels didn't want an Incubus on the throne, or even a mortal. That they'd rather rule the Fraxon Empire themselves. And on the opposite end, the demons that had come to infest Nocturne . . . did they not feel the same? Why be led by your inferior? Or why be led at all? Rules be damned, laws be damned. Chaos was a demon's natural order, as it was the angels. Only Michael and Kala had the strength to restrain them.
"It doesn't feel like something great, does it?" He finally asked. He'd come to conquer all corners of the world, as he once so greatly desired. There was nothing remaining before him, save for Nocturne and Val'Ghast. Both lands dominated by strength and fear. But did conquest really matter at this point? What did the shifting of borders really accomplish? And why should he pursue the throne of Nocturne, when he was content to see Alistair upon it? Alistair was... a good king. He wasn't Fenrir. He wasn't Cherry or Srin. He was on a different league; a man that sought to empower his own people, not destroy others. West greatly admired him. Maybe that was the real reason he came here; to be able to confide, you could say, in someone that truly had his respect.
The amount of change that had come in just a few short days was undeniable. Demons invaded Nocturne and naturally, some of Luimira's factions flocked to meet them. Necromancers were some of the first. They believed that the demons could give them the power they wanted. Alistair didn't object to them wanting to leave. But he did object to them eventually turning into potential enemies. He had them slaughtered one by one. He snuffed out their lights before they could join with others to fight against him. The demons... how long would they wait while being led by someone... as inferior as Alistair? How long would they wait under the rule of some twisted human. That's what he was to them. They didn't even consider him half demon. No. He was just a mutated human. Weaker in every way.
But perhaps it was why they let him stay on the throne. They thought they could twist him even more. Turn the king into a puppet. To make him lead for them, become the face of the demonic rule. If they couldn't... well, there were other people to put in power. Those in Luimira are growing in fear. The curse had been lifted, demons were running about... just how safe were they? Alistair had never failed them in terms of keeping them safe, but he was just one man. It was no secret that the military was weaker than it had been even when Srin was king. It was... embarrassing. Not having a stable captain made it just that much worse. Brydent was doing all that he could, but he was relatively new. Lilith was on her way to becoming a captain, last time he checked. He had no idea if she had passed her Expert Test. A part of him really hoped she did.
But what Alistair was most worried about was the growing concern for the safety of the city. Many people didn't trust that Alistair could protect them through this. For the first time since he rose to power, factions were beginning to question his power. One by one, they were killed as well. Perhaps people thought that as time passed, Alistair grew a bit more lenient with his defiance laws. He had to set the record straight. The kingdom wasn't under the rule of the people. The people served the nation, which was led by a single man. Alistair. Their ideas of democracy clouded their minds, addled them into thinking that their opinions mattered. It was a dark time in Luimira, even while the sun was shining radiantly on most of Nocturne.
But to say the man had been busy compared to West was an overstatement. It wasn't like he was expanding or anything. No... there were too many internal issues in Nocturne. Spreading the ideals of sex, sin and murder... well, it wasn't the best idea. But the idea had crossed his mind several times. "At least in Fronta you don't have demons purged from this world long ago breathing down your neck, waiting for a chance to come and show you just how weak you really are." Alistair wasn't a god. He wasn't a demon. He was just... Alistair. As much as he wanted to say he'd fight off any demon that came to Luimira's gates single handedly, he couldn't It was impossible. Now that they were on Axiom, their power is unlike any seen before. Greater than Kaminae's.
"I don't see greatness, West. Not the slightest indication of something great is on the horizon. This is just the beginning. Do you think these demons... these angels... do you really think they will just sit around forever? They want what we have. Dominion over men. They will not sit by and let us rule as we did before. You think your plan to kill Kaminae was something grand, right? Well, there are bigger fish than her. Ones that you can't send your lackeys to finish off for you. Pretty soon, even we will have to get our hands dirty." He leaned against the railing of the bridge as he continued, "No matter what we do, it won't be enough. But my face will always fit the mask I decide to wear for my people. I'll tell them what they want to hear. Before, you came to me for help." He paused here. He couldn't quite get the words out of his mouth. It was like they were being choked down. By pride.
For a second, he was going to plead for help. He was going to stoop down to the levels of Kusana and Pronta, whose leaders couldn't kill a fly for the good of their nation. No, Alistair wasn't like them. Perhaps it was his mistake for trying to find ways to keep the demons at bay honorably. When going against an opponent that clearly outmatches you... the rules of engagement change. He wasn't going to fight them head on. It would be like trying to fight two Kaminae's head on alone. No. Somewhere, just like with the pages the dark elves left behind, someone had to have studied to angels and demons which occasionally slipped into the world. "Imagine that... even the best of us need a little confirmation of our resolve."
Posted: Fri Sep 12, 2014 7:05 pm
nu███████XXX███████XXX███████XXX███████ numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS♕》*WEMARCHON! bad apple
xxx n×◞KING ⊰OF(FRONTA)*⇣EMPEROR OF♕FRAXON! by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:THE SIN OF PRIDE
Alistair feared the demons. Understandably. West feared the angels. Understandably. If they betrayed their own maker -- both of them -- it quite honestly proved that they did not possess any honor to speak of. They wanted something. They were ambitious for... something. For that purpose, they would make any leap and go beyond any bound. Alistair, West, all the humans and the human-esque creatures in the world were nothing in their eye. They were no longer their treasure. He knew that perhaps his kind -- and by extension all of the people in this world -- were never anyone's treasure but Michael's. Only Michael ever really wanted to protect them, to help them grow. To bring them happiness. But darkness came, and it came to everyone. When it first arrived in the form of Kala, that was the beginning of the end. Now, it didn't matter which form it took. Michael was gone. He may as well have been dead. There was nothing remaining from him to keep the peace alive.
West closed his eyes, and sighed. The air here was cold -- even in the warmer seasons, and even as the land now basked in the sun, Nocturne was still so cold compared to the warm isle of Amaranthine and the perfect moderation of Fronta. It was funny that he even noticed it -- he hadn't noticed the weather so much since he became a demon. He could make just his skin colder than a winter's storm. He could make people long more and more for that particular feeling, slowly freezing out their guts and destroying them. He could endure. Now, however, he noticed.
He noticed something else, too. Right before Alistair came here, there was a pang in his heart. He felt something die, or something sever; a feeling, in particular, be pulled away from him. It was sort of like losing someone -- except it felt much more personal. He did not have the ability to describe it in good conscience. But he . . . probably knew what it was. "You don't have to be so afraid of the demons," he said. He knew this for a fact -- that when the Gate opened, they would come spewing into the world. Eklopyter told him that once. And yet, this was not something to fear so much as to anticipate. The demons were different than what they were in hell. He knew that. Even he -- who had never had a single follower, nor absorbed a single soul -- he felt different. Perhaps that was what the cold was. Maybe it was simply a mortal perception of reality, rather than an immortal one.
"Things change." He opened his eyes. "I'm changing too, you know that? I'm still a demon, as much as I desire to be something different. I've ascended. Connected myself to hell. What that means is that -- hell's my real home. It's where I belong. It's where I am, or was, bound to go to when I die. It's where I too could've become a God and passed down my wisdom. But, I no longer feel that connection. The gate's opened, and it's not closing again. And so . . . we're all exiled. We cannot move outside of this singular plane. We can't escape from them." He recalled the vision; the line of golden-eyed, black-feathered monsters coming down from the skies. He did not recall them as appearing so utterly terrifying. Perhaps they'd fallen. Perhaps their betrayal had changed them forever, just as the demons had come to change.
Regardless, the power remained. It was immense, in every one of them. Every single angel was like a Kaminae -- and then some, the Gods, much worse. They were the true rulers of this world now. The demons were ants to them, save for Zachariah, and possibly Makath. He didn't really know. He never really understood his own people that well; he kind of liked to stay away from them. They were . . . not the bringers of good news.
"They're going to die, the demons. All of them -- every last one. It's a fight for their survival at this point, a war. I don't think they care about crowns and Kings right now. They care about winning. You know the dire need to survive as well as I do, Alistair. And you also know how it feels to lose." He looked out at the horizon, and then turned his vision to Alistair. He stepped closer to him, stood tall before him. His face was . . . stoic, at best. "You and I were both slaves to the same woman. Now, we stand as Kings at the apex of society; we stand as the last frontier against these monsters above and below. The thing is, no matter how our circumstances have changed, we've never really changed. We've always valued two things the most: strength, and survival. I can tell you now that I will do anything to survive this, and protect my Empire. I'll suck the devil's d**k and spit on the face of God. I'll take any side. Any desperate, s**t-forsaken side."
He moved forward again, a few breaths away from the Shadow King. He didn't really know how to put what he wanted to say into words. At least not articulately. He noticed that -- with Alistair, he wasn't sure if he could really say anything so elegantly. He couldn't speak nobly. He could just speak, like a man to a man. A person to a person. It just happened -- he didn't calculate. It just . . . happened. "That includes your s**t-forsaken side, too, Alistair," he said, sarcastically. "I know that's what you want to hear. Don't be afraid to form the words. I'm not here, thousands of miles from my walls, to judge you. I'm here to be the only one that won't. Out of all the millions of people between your nation and mine, there's not a single person that really believes in you; that does so unwittingly. You know that, and you're afraid of that. I can see every little, even minute insecurity as if a golden brazier in your eyes; your skin. You know that Nocturne values power and the ability to control. The people there will only ever believe in the man that could kill them. You hate the idea of the demons emerging. It means you're no longer the best. It means you've lost your people. Even if the demons were to not lay a single hand on you, their existence alone makes you feel as if cornered by a thousand swords." He felt the same way.
That was part of how he knew -- you know, aside from the obvious Incubus wuju powers that involved reading people's emotions.
"You've never needed anyone more than you need me right now, Alistair. And it's the same from me to you." He moved forward one last time, and planted his fingertips against the skin of Alistair's cheek, slowly losing their grip and sliding down over the stubble and skin. Their eyes met without interruption. "There was a woman of mine that I considered to be the closest of all my friends, from beginning to end. Isis. She was loyal to me. She would do anything for me; she died for me. Before then, I never imagined what loyalty might really be. I always had that final, desperate button in my head that I could push if everything came to hell -- escape, run away, protect only myself. No one mattered to me more than myself. I would never imagine wanting to devote myself to anyone. Maybe that's why everything I ever did -- with any guy on any occasion, it always got so ******** up. I didn't let them get close to the real me. I had to hold them at an arm's length so that I could escape if they ever began to compromise me -- or if their presence made me compromise myself." He admitted this truth. It was bitter.
He had done so many horrible things to so many people. Everything bad that ever descended onto him, from that point on, was well deserved. He knew it was. He just hated to admit that. He always felt as if he was so unlucky, but really, he always had it all. He had the opportunity to be happy, to be appreciated, to have others wanting to protect him. When they presented themselves, though, he always betrayed them when he came to realize that he'd have to sacrifice some too.
"Last time you saw me, I was different. Tall, muscular, dark brown hair, tan skin. Now you can only recognize me by my energy. You might wonder why that is -- do I like to change myself around others? I don't. Honestly, I hate it. I hate being forced to be someone who isn't me. But I wear a mask for my people too. They want me to be my "father's" son. A Giletti. But I'm not that. I don't even have a damn last name. I'm just a b*****d. That's why I'm only West. Not West anything, only West. Lukhan gave me that name, and I think what he wanted was for that to be something for me to run to. An identity to live as. Even still, I couldn't ever show anyone who I really am. I wouldn't belong on my throne anymore. I could only ever show Isis."
The truth was, he wasn't naturally that muscular, he wasn't dark-haired or dark-skinned. He had some shade of peachy blonde hair, he was only athletic and he was fair like many of the men far north. He looked much like how his father did -- the real one, the one he'd never known beyond a single piece of art. He loved himself for how he looked, though. It wasn't a lie. His appearance was the most genuine thing about him. It was the last fragment of his self-identity.
He knew that people, for all their differences, had just as many similarities. And he knew that Alistair changed himself for others as well -- that he lived behind this mask. He knew that even without the man saying it.
"I want to see the man behind the King, even if only for a singular instant. I want you to put all of your pain, guilt, fury, and passion into one action. Can you do that?" He moved his lips closer; close enough to whisper into the King's ear. "Turn me. Make me like you. Give me a new home -- a new place to go to outside of hell. Your abide."
Alistair found it almost comical when West had told him to not fear the demons. As they spoke, the demons amassed power . Each of them proclaiming to be more powerful than the next. But perhaps West was right. The Demons... most of their moves were... well that was exactly it. They weren't moving. It was as if they were simply trying to section off parts of Nocturne to form their very own kingdom, essentially dividing Nocturne into smaller kingdoms. He could feel them. Their presence. All over Nocturne. All around them. Demons surrounded them even right now, yet they made no moves. Alistair knew why. It wasn't hard to come to the conclusion as to why the demons haven't attacked yet. With West and Alistair out in the open, with no accompaniment of guards, they were wide open. But why didn't they attack?
They'd be marching to their deaths.
It was safe to say that there wasn't a force left in this world that could take on both Alistair and West. While the two had no previous cooperative combat experience together, something told Alistair that no prior experience was needed. The way the two became so close was indescribable. It was safe to say that the two of them would be on the same page should the two of them fight. But even on his way here, or even West's, they could have been attacked. It only proved West's point. There was no need to fear the demons. Perhaps, once they left their own realm, their power was severed. They were unsure of their remaining power. Unsure if theirs would match Alistair's. Or West's. Something told the king that it didn't. Why else would they recruit followers if they had so much strength? As West continued, he confirmed it. They were locked out of their home. Their realm, which fed them power unlike any other, was shut off from them.
But as Alistair's fears of the demons were squashed, West's fears seemed matched when it came to the angels. Alistair had never seen one, not in person. They wouldn't come to Nocturne. They wouldn't have nearly as much strength... well, that was before Kala's power stretched throughout the land. A part of this, though, made Alistair question why West had Kaminae killed. Killing the demon was supposed to be a great gift to Michael, but the rewards... well, there were none. In fact, West seemed to gain more enemies in the angels after Kaminae's death. "Your demons will catch up to you, West. You cannot side with the angels, then claim to want to side with the winning team. They will catch wind. The angels are no longer a choice. You are a monster in their eyes, a manifestation of unfiltered evil. Michael was supposed to be your shield, but he's gone. Just as Kala is. You want to chose a side? Stay by mine. You don't need the demons. You don't need the angels. If the demons are as doomed as you say, they will come to us. That is... I'm sure of it."
The demons will die. Perhaps not by Alistair, and he was fine with it. West was right. Alistair hated their presence. Their presence alone questioned his power among his people. Many questioned if he had the power to protect them. If not, to stand aside and allow them to make reparations to follow the demons. But Alistair... it was hard to swallow. Perhaps the reason why he became king in the first place was clear. He was the strongest at the time. There wasn't an army in the world that would question Alistair's personally trained army. He trained every soldier that came through the doors. In the process he made many mistakes. Some that were... disasters. To think Red almost became Queen. That was the start of it. The doubt in his kingdom. The demons' arrival... they had the worst timing.
But as West continued, Alistair's demeanor burned into West's eyes, growing hotter and hotter. Alistair's body radiated heat that pressed onto West's. Anger boiled inside of the man, and yet, a part of him knew West was right. It was a weakness they shared. To be able to see past the facade they put on for others. "I might not be the strongest anymore, but I'll be damned if I let those plebeians think that any of them are more fit to rule than I am. I sit in the city every day and I can honestly tell you the factions that come to me about a 'change in leadership' are about the most unintelligent, tactless fools. Well, they were. For them to question all that I do for them over... demons... it'd make any king..." He couldn't even finish his sentence. West described it perfectly. Alistair felt cornered by a thousand swords.
No matter what he did, he could mask he wore would never fit perfectly. Not to himself. Not to West. Not to anyone. They wanted Alistair to be a god with their expectations. There wasn't a single person in this world that didn't expect more out of him. They always wanted something more from him. "What about you? Do you expect more from me, too? Do you also want me to be something that is impossible for me to become? I want people to know everything, about who I really am. Yet, they wouldn't understand. No one would, but you. They claim to know what it's like to be in my position. But to rule such a feral kingdom such as Nocturne while trying to keep everyone safe... it's like they don't want to be kept safe. Perhaps I am babying them. They haven't experienced hardship since I took power. They don't remember what it feels like to have genocide knock on your door. They don't remember what true fear feels like. They are ignorant to everything. "
The time will come where they will learn.
When West inched closer, eventually even pressing his torso against Alistair's, he'd feel it. The intense struggle inside Alistair. The intense heat battling the intense cold. A combination of fury, self control, composure and raw power. As West stood over the man, casting his shadow over the king, their shadows melded. In an instant, they were gone from the bridge. They appeared inside a dark home, nothing necessarily big... just vacant for all except a single sofa downstairs and a naked bed set in the darkened bedroom. "Most people die from the change. Shadows began to form around the two in the room. Let's see if you're different." A sudden pull from behind would yank at West, suspending the man in the middle of the room by his limbs. Something would tell the man to trust in Alistair. It wasn't an attack, it was a gift. The change was violent, restraining West in shadows is the only way to prevent him from releasing too much energy, harming himself and anyone nearby.
"I should warn you..." Normally, when one would attempt this, they would completely transform, and since Alistair had never done anything like this before, he would follow tradition. Stripping himself from any garments above his waist, the man looked up at West. "You'll be my first." The second he unbuttoned his jeans, he began the transformation, quickly sliding off his denim jeans and boxers before his arms snapped back as his bones shifted for the change. Seconds later, surrounded by clothes stood a tall dark furred Lycan. One wouldn't even know that the beast wasn't a full Lycan. As he took his first step towards West, the shadows that bound the man began to rip apart the noblemen garments he wore, exposing bare skin in various locations. In just a few seconds, the wolf had closed the gap between the two, and as all Lycan's could, he stood up on his hind legs, and his body's posture quickly adapted.
In a way, Alistair felt almost bad for West. For the man didn't know that the bite left permanent scars. The scars on Alistair's neck from when Velox bit him were still there. Alistair didn't want to bite him anywhere that would show. Not his neck. Or his chest. It only took a few seconds for Alistair to realize where the bite would be best given. As his clawed hands grabbed at West's popliteal fossa, the shadows around his right leg slackened, allowing Alistair to lift up West's right thigh. As he bent down on a single knee, he became eye level with West's thigh, and if he turned his head, he'd be facing his barely clothed crotch, separated only by thin underwear and tattered clothing. "I can't prepare you for this. But I'll be here, if you wake up."
In a sudden snap, Alistair clamped his enlarged jaws onto West's inner thigh, almost immediately biting into his femoral artery. The second his fangs broke through West's skin, Alistair began transferring his own energy inside of West. Alistair remembered nothing but a cold, icy feeling seeping inside of him. But he could feel what he was transferring into West. Fire. Ice. Fury. Passion. It was what he felt inside of him every moment of every single day. The mixing of their energies would ultimately change West's energy. In exchange for the energy, Alistair consumed the blood that poured into his mouth as a result of severing the femoral artery, sending the hybrid into almost an euphoric state during the change.
Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 12:47 am
nu███████XXX███████XXX███████XXX███████ numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS♕》*WEMARCHON! bad apple
xxx n×◞KING ⊰OF(FRONTA)*⇣EMPEROR OF♕FRAXON! by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:THE WOLF AND THE DEMON
The pain. He was asleep by now, mostly, but he could still feel the pain; he could remember it. As the pain coursed through him, words flowed. There were strong words, weak words, plentiful and few. For them to question all that I do for them over . . . demons . . . it'd make any king . . ." he resounded. He remembered a desire, at that distinct moment, to step over and embrace the man, who was so strong and yet so weak, who had so many expectations and yet did not ask for even a single one of them to be met. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to pretend to be strong, for everyone, all around him. West saw that, and damn, he felt the same way. Damn, he pretended. Damn, he wanted to be who he was, to just let out and yell: I'm me, and that is all I should be. And yet there was something . . . something, keeping the two of them back. Perhaps that was a part of their weakness. They were afraid of change, of surrendering something important to them, even if the position only degraded their mental well-being. There was not a single creature alive free of such fears, even small as they were. Even Michael wept, and feared, and was made lonely and desperate. Everyone wanted the strong, and yet there wasn't a damn strong person in this whole world.
In this whole universe. Why . . . ?
I want people to know everything, about who I really am. Yet, they wouldn't understand. No one would but you. He knew that. He had come to realize, some time before now, that Alistair was the only one that could really understand him, and vice-versa. He looked into his eyes and he saw everything; it wasn't just a mystery. It wasn't just what he wanted to portray. It was who he really was -- that was who he saw. And to be honest, West coveted who he really was. He wanted to protect it, to keep it safe, as if some precious unknown thing; like a flower that would wilt if left in the sun, and so it was deeply revered by the darkness as the one manifestation of goodness that it did not corrupt. West found himself drawn more, more, more. Even in the moment of now, with pain ripping through him and devouring his ability to really think, he still felt that attachment. To be honest, he was sure that a part of him loved this man that was such a titan before other men.
He remembered when he met him for the first time since his transformation into West, back in the awkwardly named Fort. He was so interested then, and in return, Alistair was so interesting. He was compelling, moreso than anyone else he'd encountered. He had the mind of a diamond, though unpolished. Now that he could see what was really inside, his compulsion towards Alistair only inflamed. He was sure that . . . by now, it was something very deep-rooted within him. And so, as the change came over him, and what was gallant and eloquent became more rugged and feral, his desire for contemplation became his desire for action. He dreamt. He dreamt of his last images; Alistair's teeth around his thighs, drinking his blood, that look on his face that had been taken by the Hunt. He then dreamt, somehow, of his psyche during the great sleep. He watched it twist and turn, change. He watched what was demonic become even moreso, shift into an entity you could only consider . . . absolutely amoral. But this was not him, not now, not yet. It was what he could be, if only he were to embrace this enigmatic spirit that called to him and howled to the moon.
To be honest, it was quite an exciting adventure, back and forth between the hedges and urban life; his mind went between chaos and order, the green and the grey, the unkempt and the poised. Was this what life was, as a man of this creed? He could not imagine it fully, not by himself at least. But he could imagine living a life like this with Alistair. Yes, he could. He knew he could. That man was his equal in every way; he was everything he had ever aspired to meet. That man sung to him as if a Siren, a bewitching man with so little to despise. And now, with West being alive and not dead, even after trusting his life completely to another . . . he knew too, that he could trust him. And so -- he re-imagined everything once more. When he awoke, first and truly awoke, he looked into the man's eyes. His own eyes were fluctuating in color, brown to bright gold, a light in the dark.
He looked into his eyes, and he said, "I'm alive." He did not say this as a sign of dumbfoundedness; no, he was very well aware that he was alive, and he did not imagine that he would die. Instead, it was a recognition of the choice that Alistair had just made; he chose West, and West's companionship, over what many Lumirian men would decide: destabilizing Fronta, deconstructing an Empire, annihilating an opponent. All of those sweet, sad words he'd whispered to West suddenly became real. Really, really, real. "You're the first image of my reincarnation," he whispered. He looked upon the man's figure, all of it. Every single inch of it, he seared it into his mind and could barely think of anything else. West pulled away at all the clothes of his that remained, all except for the thin, last layer. "I want you," he said. "King Alistair," he said. The man came closer to him, kneeling down and rolling his smooth fingertips across the man's upper legs. "I will never betray your heart. I would rather die."
B-bump.. .. b-bump.. .. b-bump.. b-bump.. b-bump-b-bump.. The base of his heartbeat pounding within his chest was growing louder by the seconds as the young man scrambled through dark streets and back alleyways, the sound of clanging metal from armored guards in chase just a few paces behind his own. Angry shouts and cries filled the air as the perpetrator and his pursuers ran amok throughout the calm and beautiful streets of Gloria en Valle. The blonde criminal being chased could easily lose his followers for they were mere elves but it was the thrill of the chase, the enticing possibility that he could be caught. To be honest, he was quite surprised they even bothered to chase him this far, all he did was steal a loaf of bread from a inn. As he turned a sharp left Dimitri was greeted with a dead end where the street stopped at the entrance to a house, and as he turned around to bolt the other direction he was confronted with the same sight as before. "s**t.." A simple cursed escaped past his lips under his breath as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, but before he could manage to scrounge something together the three armored guards turned the corner and swarmed him, surrounding him on all sides in a triangular fashion so that any way he would try to escape at-least one of them would be able to seize the opportunity and get an attack on him.
They stood like this for a few moments, casting gazes at each other as if trying to discern what each other was planning on doing, and in this time of pause it allowed Dimirti to gather his breathing. Looking up from the ground, the young Lycan meet the gaze of the elf to his front with an apathetic glare, but his smile contrasted greatly against what his eyes were portraying for he was snarling like a predator that had finally cornered his prey, but wasn't he suppose to be the one trapped? Starting from his feet a faint crimson aura began to swell and swirl around his form until it had coated his entire body from head to toe. The guard that he had remained eye contact with took a step back as his eyes went wide. Enhancing himself with his fighting spirit, Dimitri took a step back and delivered a rear high kick into the jaw of the unsuspecting guard that was behind him. There was a crack as the elf's jaws snapped closed and presumably broke before the force of the kick sent him flying into the wall of the building to his back where once he made contact the stone wall gave way from the force of contact and the body vanished into the darkness that was the inside of the house. Continuing his assault the blonde Lycan dashed forward and turned to his side, bringing his elbow up and striking the man in his gut which knocked the wind from his lungs and caused his body to seize up where the Lycan delivered another blow to his mid section and sent him flying down the alley and through the building at the end.
Two down, one to go. Standing straight, Dimitri turned to face the last of his prey with a broad sneer across his face. "Run.." Whispered the wolf to the lamb and the guard intended to do just that as he dropped his sword and began to turn heel and get the hell out of dodge. Five paces.. ten paces.. The guard continued to widen the gap and refused to look back, but he would soon wish he did as before he could make the turn to head down the alley leading back to the main street he would feel a sharp sensation in his chest followed by a sudden heavy weight that knocked him down face first. Kneeling atop his prey, Dimitri pulled his hand from out of the man's chest and began to lick his hand free of the delicious crimson water of life. Yes.. tonight was indeed le nuit de chasseur.
Posted: Sat May 30, 2015 9:06 pm
Her breath was heavy, matched only by the heavy revolver in my hand, fully outstretched. She always hated revolvers, to be honest. Six powerful shots are great sure, and they have decent range too. In fact, there were few feelings like pulling the trigger on a magnum. She, however, had a predilection for semi automatic handguns. There was just something about them that had always... drawn her in. Something about the ease of use and efficiency of them that her mind called upon to solve EVERY problem that required violence. Her left arm, extended fully to that side, held a silver Baretta. She had six bullets in her right arms weapon, 16 in her left. There were at least 30 enemies around, fairhairs, vampires, a couple dreadnoughts. It was so damn dark too, and only getting dimmer as shades began to darken the area. How the s**t had she even gotten into this position? A grunt behind her reminded her as a large, angry beast threatened the group around her. A goddamn boar was the reason she was being hunted by a poacher ring. It lifted her on it's tusk, her balance not faltering as she shifted backwards onto it's head, still threatening the group with her weapons. <********... we are going to have to fight out of here, boy. he grunted and snorted at the enemies around her, the huge beast the real reasoin they were wary. As the light finally dimmed fully, the only thing that could be seen was it's glowing eyes. Aurelia attacked first, a burst of light from her right hand sending a silver bullet to the enemy on her right and blowing through his head. He wouldn't be getting up. Meanwhile at her left side and behind her the revolver shot three times, holding back three enemies. She heard their steps, sensed which ones were close even though the boar couldn't. She turned in a circle, a hail from her left hand, highly accurate and crippling or outright killing a few more. She leaped forward, landing on one who was off balance and huge, the dreadnought, with a revolver on it's head. As the bullet crashed through his skull, it took brain matter out on it's path as she blasted another two at her side. By the time he hit the ground the pistol was halfway empty and another section was cleared out. As she rose, she smirked allowing her magnetic control to grasp at all the metal around her. The bodies, and their weapons, rose around her, and were thrown in the dark at those who couldn't see. A few shades left... then light. With the boar blind and panicking it was no help, but if she could kill the shades...
As if heeding her call, the Destroyer fell from the sky and landed before her in the dark. She snatched it up, it's weight easily manageable in her hands, as the shades tried to use the darkness to attack. She slammed the Destroyer into the ground then, and a blast of white light emanated from the ground below the destroyer, bright and strong enough to knock back the shades and break their dark reign. Now able to see, the rather large beast stopped and prepared to charge at the nearest oppressor, which just happened to be a dreadnought. As he snorted puffs of steam from his nose he stared his intended target down like he was a Matador wearing red. It's carapace was actually red, oddly enough, and he was prepared to take the charge head on. The boar, easily bigger than a man by far, took off faster than one would expect in a powerful charge, ramming the armored warrior head on. When he crashed into him, the dreadnought took all his strength trying his hardest to hold him back, and still he failed as he was over run and trampled while barely slowing it down. As Aurelia, the iron monger, tore through them with the destroyer and pistols seemingly floating around her, as well, and the Bull charged and charged and charged, the enemies were left in pieces or fleeing. She mounted the large Boar and held onto it's fur as he stampeded away. It was then that she caught sight of what looked like a fairhair fighting. She slowed her newest prize to a halt, watching him without intervening, impressed with his efficency and skill. His speed and martial prowess was of an interesting level, and she wanted to know more of him. So she dismounted and walked, the nameless creature behind her trodding along by his own admission, greatful to Aurelia.
Well that was quite a show you put on, she said, holding the large cannon in one hand over her back like a suitcase, easily in fact. Like it didn't weight almost a ton. She would look him over, before extending her free hand towards him. They call me Aurelia, adept in the military here. Who might you be, my stalwart Lycan friend? she asked, her completely black eyes focused on his.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2015 8:29 pm
Dimitri would stand up as he was finishing up cleaning his hand free of blood. His enhanced senses allowed him to know that someone was watching him, observed him, but he could also tell they didn't have any hostile feelings towards him. A low growl erupted from his chest as he turned enough so that he could cast his gaze at the person of interest without straining his neck. Orbs of deep sea blue peered from underneath bangs of blonde and gazed upon the figure of the one who had spoken to him. She was a woman it seemed, attractive, but not too much so, and she seemed to have a giant a** boar companion. At the mere sight of such a thing thoughts of roasting that giant hunk of meat over fire on a spit began to fill his mind and made him even more hungry than he was. In one hand she held a large revolver that she seemed to hold up with ease which amused him in a sense.
In her other hand which held nothing the young looking woman held it out for him before introducing herself and asking his name. It seemed she held some manners, giving her name first before asking for his that is. Dimitri would would a step forward and reach out with his clean hand and take hers in it's grasp before slowly bringing it to his lips where he kissed the top of it. In a regal manner he returned the favor, "I am Dimitri Dragovich; it is nice to meet your acquaintance Ms. Aurelia." The Lycan released the female's hand and gave her a slight bow, and upon him standing up his eyes locked with hers as a thin smile spread across his face. "Adept you say..? I suppose that I estimate to be around that area as well."
Posted: Sat Jun 06, 2015 12:29 pm
Why had she not fully gained what was rightfully hers? She was a dragoon without armor, and her dragon was one without power. Her power had only risen, but it had not yet extended to her companion. Ophelia Gareth watched the horizon as the night slowly consumed the day, a metaphor of her entire life playing out in front of her. Her pure intentions were consumed by the darkness that resided in herself, and in her surroundings. Sitting upon that roof, she felt nostalgic in remembering when she was smaller and didn't understand what it meant to kill another being. Ibuki's size was growing, which was why she was kept un-summoned majority of the time. Without the beautiful reptile around, Lia felt a bit empty and lonely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde running away from elvish guards. Her dull life had finally stroked something interesting in her view, and she couldn't help but follow him. He ran fast, but Lia became one with the shadows and followed stealthily. She used to have morals about killing others, and as she watched him kill the elves chasing him she didn't feel anything. She was confused by this sudden feeling, but didn't really dwell on it. She was about to come out of the shadows when he was joined by a boar and a woman. "I was apart of the military, but it's been so long since I've gotten any orders at all. I'm the same in power." She spoke before she revealed herself, but as she finished her last word she stepped out. Her bright hair would illuminate her facial features as she stared at the others. "Mystery woman, Mr. Dragovich. It's a pleasure to meet you both. I am Ophelia Gareth."
The Diabolos was pleased that the fairhair seemed more cunning than his beastly kin. She smiled at him as he spoke, a bit of a giggle leaving her lips as she found his lips upon her hand. Dimitri eh? Aurelia returned his pleasantry in kind. The pleasure is mine, Dimitri. As the words left she realized the incubus skill she had stolen infecting her body language and voice though he wouldn't be able to see her as anything but charming and flirty. Aurelia shifted her stance nonchalantly and looked at the body before her, her eyes scrutinizing his wounds. Now... what could an adept have done that would have pissed off the guards around here I wonder. Something tells me you, like myself, are no ordinary adept. I may have - she stopped realizing that another was coming near. She turned her head and looked in the direction of the new comer with a raised eyebrow, and a hand on her hip. As the girl spoke, she smirked at her. Aurelia's eyes were of a ademons, trained to see things as they were. She could see she was a shade, that much was apparent. Of anything else, Aurelia was unsure. Orders trickle down in this new regime quite slowly. Only the big scary demons get attention, she sarcastically spoke. And soon even they will not be quelled. Without making herself apparent, she would inquire into the both of them.
So tell me, my fellow millitary buffs. What is your stance on the state of our great nation? she asked curiously, trying to get a feel of them. With the way the show was being ran, you were either 100% loyal or the opposite and trying not to stand out. Considering Aurelia had just freed a boar, near the last of it's kind, from a secretive captivity, one who knew could assume if they saw the fireworks where she seemed to lie. Still, in this day one could never be sure, and she was going to need their help either way. How she would go about recieving it was all that was in question here...
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 10:00 pm
As he conversed with the Diabolos in-front of himself, his overly heightened sense of smell picked up another scent that came from behind the woman and the boar which caused his gaze to slightly change so that he was looking past her and she must have picked up on this for she turned around herself to look at the newcomer who had rudely barged into their little conversation. First her voice broke through the silence followed by her figure as she stepped out from the shadows that which she was hiding in, presumably stalking them. She introduced herself as Ophelia Gareth and informed them on her rank here in the military. Rude as she may have been to interject into a conversation like that, at-least she had some manners to introduce herself. The tall blonde male stood there and stared the woman down as his eyes gave her an analytical look over to assess her capabilities. Even from this far apart, it was still apparent that she was much shorter than her as he towered above her by a foot and them some, and where as she looked lithe he was broad and muscular, or more well toned and chiseled frame. While she looked weak and frail, something that he normally wouldn't even bother hunting he knew that for her to be an adapt she had to have some combat prowess for she couldn't have gotten to that point being a simple c** bucket for higher ups.
This may have been his night to hunt, but he wouldn't find delight in slaying her, at-least at this current time. What drew his attention away from Ophelia was the sound of his conversation companion asking a generalized question regarding their stance on the current state of Nocturne which brought forth a small laugh from the Lycan. "Nocturne is trash. This place is in shambles and any who can't see that are blind." Dimitri fixed his gaze on Aurelia, "That's why I was being chased, because I was simply speaking my mind, and the feeble guards thought that they could earn a promotion for bringing me in." The Lycan changed his stance so that he was facing the two of them at the same time, keeping them at equal distances so if for whatever reason they had the same idea as the guards, he could react in proper time.
"Work load is slow huh..." She didn't stray on the subject. The woman, Aurelia, was attractive in her own right. It was the first thing that the young Ophelia noticed about the person, and on rare occasions was the last. She didn't feel like it would end badly, these people, as shady as they are (haha punny right) weren't the enemy. Aurelia inquired a question, and though it sounded innocent it could be life or death to every one of them. Ophelia thought deeply about lying, but before she could completely reply the blonde beauty spoke up. Just by the look of Dimitri, Ophelia knew he was trouble with abs. He spoke about the reason he was running, and how the country was s**t. If he spoke the truth, Ophelia would feel weak for lying. She was a proud woman, and she had many goals but she also respected herself enough to tell the truth when the time is right. "This country is going to hell." She said bluntly," and everyone in this place is going there too. It's like all good that I remember as a child is completely gone, this place is a disgrace." She looked around in disgust. "Why are you asking? Are you planning on arresting the unloyal ones? There are two of us and one of you, so if its a fight you want." Ophelia made a gamble, including the blond one in her group. She was just cautious of what would happen after that answer. She didn't know who to trust in the country, she was even thinking of maybe fleeing to a more friendlier one. Unfortunately, she was chained to the place because of the darkness.
