Somehwere deep in the jungles of southern India there stood a temple. This temple was not dedicated to any god or incarnation. The temple, like the sole occupant, was a lie. For centuries the people had believed that the world we see everyday was an illusion, and what was real was hidden by Maya, the illusion of reality. Such complicated illusions as life needed constant policing, and this particular lie had, for millenia, been responsible for the policing of samsara -- the cycle of karma; Creation, Preservation, Destruction. This lie had a name, as all good lies do. It's name was Kefetasura.
And all at once, something was dreadfully wrong.
Kefetasura looked from side to side in his tiny temple. He stalked over to his bookshelves, bright multi-colored clothes swished lightly as he walked. The faint sound of bells echoed through the temple with each step. His fingers closed upon a thick leather-bound sutra, and his eyes scanned quickly through its' pages.
"Impossible!" he cried out.
Pages and pages of history were dedicated to Overmagus Archlich, an entity who quite simply had not figured into history mere minutes ago! After all, when you are a lie, you have a very good sense of what a lie looks like. But if his lie was reflected in what had already come to pass, then . . . .
"Oh no," the demon gasped breathlessly. A look of horror crossed his handsome purple face, as if the most terrible of things, something that could never conceivably happen, something that was so far beyond the power of all of reality combined, had just become possible. He dropped the sutra, it clattered to the warm stone floor.
There was no sound of bells nor gently swishing cloth as the demon ran to the most sacred portal that existed to him. It was the one place in all of creation that Maya did not exist, the gateway through which he could pass to observe samsara directly.
He closed his eyes and stepped through the gate. He knew the inconceivable terror that awaited him before he opened them. Samsara, the cycle of all, the only truth in a cosmos of illusion, had ground to a halt.
"We are doomed," Kefetasura said softly, his eyes welling with tears.
((PS: I wrote this while listening to that song!))
Aceline Abella? The name echoed over the cobble stone street and off the brick houses. A loud bang acted as the period. Slowly, the body fell limp into a puddle on the cobblestone street.
Freidrich Manns? Another brief silence then a gunshot. Growing weary of the process, the speaker shouted.
Would everyone from section fifteen of this development step forward and onto the curb. Everyone else remain where you stand.
For crimes against Overmagus Archlich, you are condemned to death. The crimes that you are accused of are as follows: Possession of illegal weapons. Sheltering of anti-government propaganda with intent to distribute. Concealment of known rebels. Possession of banned literature. And the most heinous crime of hate towards our glorious new government. For this you are sentenced to execution and reanimation.
Setting his list and his megaphone, the man stepped back. His long coat dragged in the collected water on the street and hung off his rounded shoulders. He showed all the signs of sleep depravation and malnutrition. His hands twitched unsteadily, a side affect of his numerous medications. He gave a insane smile to the damned and tipped his hat.
With a demented speed, his removed his sub machine gun from his back. The men around him followed suit. In the last moments of quiet, a voice rang out in the crowd.
LONG LIVE ORANBEGA!
Any response was drowned out. The mechanical cackle of numerous automatic weapons roared, as though taunting the final rebellious action. Lead tore through the tightly packed crowd. In one unified voice it seemed the victims cried, dying and in pain. Still, the guns carried on with their depraved laughter. One by one, like wheat before the blade, the dozens fell. Names, faces, lives. None of it mattered. Drowned in a sea of oppressive violence. Finally, one by one, the guns fell silent.
A few men lit cigarettes and took deep breathes. Others glared at the corpses, as though inviting them to move. To fight back. To give him any excuse to let loose their collective rage again. The man in the long coat only stared. He reached into his pocket and removed a small case, taking two pills. Shouldering his weapon he walked back to the curb. Prodding a few bodies with his foot he confirmed that they were all, with out a doubt, dead. He looked over a few of the bodies. One face he recognized, a woman. He had met her at the base of the New Mu capital building. They had exchanged smiles, but carried on.
One more pill, for good measure.
A voice crept out from the line of executioners.
Is it done, Feliks?
Taking one more look over the bodies, he nodded and gave a thumbs up. The pills took hold of his brain, numbing his emotions. He smiled.
Its all yours!
The official Reanimator, a powerful necromancer, stepped out, all clad in black. Milk white runes decorated his cloak. His features were concealed by an uncaring, ever present skull mask. The Reanimator went about his business. A few words uttered, a few scrolls unfurled. Slowly the bodies showed life. Each one taking in a deep gasp of air, then standing. A new crop of improved, loyal servants for the Overmagus. Everything for Overmagus Archlich. Stopping himself mid step, Feliks twirled on his heel. He laughed.
Cant forget the most important part!
He jogged to the undead group. A thick mix of blood and water congealing on the pavement. He cupped his hands and dipped them in the cocktail. The liquid ran threw his fingers. It pooled in the creases of his hands, the deep trenches and scars. Again sprinting, he slammed them both against the door of Section 15. Both left heavy wet stains on the wood. He turned around, facing the nervous, scared, tired and depressed masses. He looked at the group and felt nothing but hate. Everyone was a potential traitor. An enemy in disguise, a disease on the splendid new world. Feeling their eyes on his face, he chuckled. The mob stepped back. Like a kid, he suddenly jumped and shouted.
Boo!
The mass of humanity ran, fleeing the insanity. Pursued only by the mad, depraved laugh of the Head of the Secret Police, Feliks Danya.
((Didn't mean for this post to be this long when I started it. >.>
)
From a distance, the closed-top lander looked not unlike a coffin as it slowly but surely crossed the Black Sea. Glossy, armored and radar invisible, the jet black vessel carried but one small bit of insignia- embossed on the hull towards the rear were three letters, only visible from time to time as it bobbed in and out of the rolling waves: G, S, and R. The overall size of the thing hinted that it could hold anywhere from twenty to thirty passengers- though, completely shut out from view on all sides, it was all but impossible to know that there was only one.
"Twenty-five minutes to landing", the onboard computer's voice called out. This update remained just above the command line on the bank of monitors and computer terminal occuping one wall of the lander long after the voice had stopped. Whether or not the lone soldier inside took heed of the warning, Lyden remained in the statue-like sitting position he had kept for the past three hours. A twitch of his eyes to the seat across from him, where he had set his gear- then eyes forward once again.
"Twenty minutes to landing." Lyden knew the importance of his mission- after all, it had been punctuated with the Greensryche Research underwater fortress teleporting the lander across hundreds of miles to be sent ashore to this location. Aside from the gravity of the task, it was a clear cut one- after coming ashore, he was to make his way into the forest infront of him to a mercenary compound. He would then gain access to the compound by any means necessary, locate and interrogate the prisoners of war contained within for information with regards to an anti-Greensryche group- and then eliminate them. He had been given no overworld map of the area- that the locations of the beach insertion point, a nearby port town and the forest compound sort of formed a right-angle triangle was all he needed to know. The computer systems would calibrate the rest of the details. It was then that Lyden became very concious that the computer's next warning was quite late. Breaking his stillness, he turned to glance down at the main screen.
]GreensrycheUnderwaterFortress Radar Uplink lost retrying 5 seconds
]Connection to GreensrycheUnderwaterFortress Radar Uplink unsuccessful retrying 5 seconds
]Connection to GreensrycheUnderwaterFortress Radar Uplink unsuccessful retrying 5 seconds
]Connection to GreensrycheUnderwaterFortress Radar Uplink unsuccessful retrying 5 seconds
]
The connection to the fortress, and thus to the mission coordinates, had been lost. Any nervousness Lyden may have felt was nullified by the emotion-suppressing chemicals overriding his brain. It was probably just Master or Phrygen or Locria recalibrating the connection- that usually took about 10 minutes. No worries. Unblinking, he rose and stepped over to the console- he didn't need a connection to headquarters anyways, there were others. A light clacking sounded as Lyden's hands flitted across the keyboard. He'd try something local.
]stop
]Retry attempt(GreensrycheUnderwaterFortress Radar Uplink) stopped
]connect EU072
]Connecting to GreensrycheRomania Radar Hub
]Connection to GreensrycheRomania Radar Hub unsuccessful retrying 5 seconds
]Connection to GreensrycheRomania Radar Hub unsuccessful retrying 5 seconds
]
...Odd. There wasn't any response from the closest point on the Greensryche network, either.
]stop; connect EU012
]Retry attempt(GreensrycheRomania Radar Hub) stopped
Connecting to GreensrycheMoldova Radar Hub
]Connection to GreensrycheMoldova Radar Hub unsuccessful retrying 5 seconds
]stop; connect EU014
]Retry attempt(GreensrycheMoldova Radar Hub) stopped
Connecting to GreensrycheUkraine Radar Hub
]Connection to GreensrycheUkraine Radar Hub unsuccessful retrying 5 seconds
]stop; connect EU***
]Retry attempt(GreensrycheUkraine Radar Hub) stopped
Connecting to first responding radar hub on GreensrycheEurope network
]GreensrycheEurope network not found, ending
]
...And there wasn't a single Greensryche signal in all of Europe. It was a technical error, it had to be.. but he would make sure.
]searchlocaltransmissions*100*10
]Searching for transmissions within 100mile radius in 10second timeframe
]12 transmissions recorded, content unreadable
Lyden withdrew from the monitor a bit in disbelief. The lander itself was not malfunctioning, it was picking up -something-... it was inconcievable, but it appeared to be true- all contact with Greensryche Industries had been lost. No. Impossible. It was just some error, and it would be resolved while he carried out his mission. In the meantime, though, he could only hope that the lander was still on course... though an earlier than expected soft nudging of the lander running aground would indicate it was not. Again, he turned back to the computer.
]deploy
]Opening lander door. MissionOfficialStartTime logged 0545 hours. Good luck, Unit Lyden.
The lander emitted a soft hiss as the door was hydraulically lowered, the vessel flooding with dawn's light- Lyden snatching up the black attache case containing his extra gear as he stepped out onto the beach to get a look around. He wasn't too far off, he figured- the port town being in sight meant he was a bit west of where he was supposed to land, but no matter. Just as he began to set foot toward the jungle, though, he stopped, finding himself glancing back to the town... something was wrong.
Popping open his case he pulled out a small pair of binoculars, lifting them to his eyes to get a better look. There wasn't a single light on, and many first-floor windows had been smashed... several buildings seemed to be partly or completely charred husks, the aftermath of being ravaged by fire. Furthermore, poking out from behind a wall seemed to be the skeletal remains of a tank, and the wingtip of a downed plane. Nearby on the beach, what had seemed to be long morning shadows were, on closer inspection, craters. In fact, the whole sky had a surreal haze to it. The area was in no way in a period of unrest, or so he had been briefed. But this destruction, and this feeling of darkness.. he could feel the negative energy levels growing in his body just as he watched. What was going on...?
TRANSACTION TO ACCOUNT 0759227062 COMPLETE.
COMMENCING TAC 17 ANALYSIS TO DETERMINE CURRENT STATUS.
TRANSMITTING PACKAGE TO LOCAL HUB.
CONNECTION LOST.
ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT . . . FAILED.
ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT . . . FAILED.
ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT . . . FAILED.
UNABLE TO RECONNECT THROUGH PRIMARY UPLINK.
REROUTING OVER SECONDARY SATELLITES.
ERROR.
SECONDARY PATH UNRESPOSIVE.
INVESTIGATE CAUSE.
FOUND.
SECONDARY PATH NO LONGER EXISTS.
ANALYZING DP FIELD LEVELS OF THE LAST TIME PERIOD.
HYPOTHESIS CONFIRMED.
SCENARIO 2016 IS IN EFFECT.
COMMENCE OPERATION_
Close ot the center of what was once, was now, or never would be Peregrine Island, something stirred.
PRIMARY CONDUITS CONNECTED.
A secondion of ground began to crack, the rift running into a circle and through anything present - buildings, roads, dirt, it didn't care as it twisted the circle of earth almost ninety degrees.
Then the section upheaved and collapsed down in a masive cloud of dirt, dust, and noise, as a gray-red metallic structure shot up from the hole, the coneic tower-like construct juttin into the sky until it had reached its full height of fity-five meters.
GENERATOR ACTIVE.
BOOSTERS ACTIVE.
RELEASING BLOCKERS.
The tower suddenly came to life, pale-blue lights flaring up all over its exterior, shooting up in linear patterns along its side. On its top, a platform grate extended, clicking and clacking as mechanical joints unfolded.
DEPLOYING.
Then a crash came fom inside as massive latches unlocked, releasing the cylinder at the tower's center, shooting it upto the top along a magnetic rail.
Within seconds, the thing reached the top, crashing to a stop, then wtisted about and located a spot in the sky.
TARGET ACQUIRED.
The cylinder snapped apart into three pieces with tremendous noise, unfolding them into equilateral positions. With a snap, the thre pieces unfourled part of a circle, joining together, then bending the metal inward to form a huge dish.
A compound spike clicked into psoition at the dish's center, crackling with energy.
COMMENCING MESSAGE.
The tower fulfilled its purpose. Designed for emergency situations, is contained a powerful reactor and wasn;t detection shielded. Though the finely bundled hyper-dim stream it sent into space couldn't be detected by anything less than a truly excellent 5-D receiver - not to mention it had to be in the path of the beam - the energy output from the reactor was evident to anyone wih even the weakest methods of detecting energy releases...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
((Khell, tell me if this is out of line and I'll re-evaluate. Since the entire world is deciding to be magic-origin, I'm thinking extraneous technology would be frowned upon.))
Awakening.
Essex wearily came back to herself. The walls were steely grey and inhospitable. She was cold.
The sound of footsteps hurrying down stone stairs pounded against the metal walls.
Wait...I'm cold. What-- Rubbing over her hands dully, still groggy from sleep, the girl noticed with some degree of surprise that she was...organic. It wasn't as much of a shock as it should have been - and the fact that she wasn't surprised surprised her more than the change.
The door unlocked and creaked open with a flash of sigils. A familiar, though haggard face greeted her. Dr. West stood there, bloodstained labcoat and hands dyed with chemicals. He carried none of the tech that he usually kept with him at all times, and Essex realized with some surprise that it was because he was a magibiologist.
But ...wasn't he a roboticist? ...And wasn't I a robot? she mentally asked herself, confused. No...He's a magibiologist...and has always been. Of course...
"...Breakfast, Selene." West said, bringing in a small tray of food. It was gruel...but there was a pinch of sugar in it, to Essex's delight (which she was promptly surprised at).
"Good morning, Dr. West." Essex murmured, standing on her feet.
"Hah..." West said, his eyes reflecting the sadness that seemed latent in them already. "...Have you abandoned calling me 'father' already? I cannot say I blame you. Your stepmother would be pleased...though I refuse to reduce you to a serial number. You're not just another experiment...you're my daughter."
Essex was lost as the words seemingly brought themselves from her lips. "No...I'm sorry, Father."
"...You're my last joy, Selene." West said, looking into the little girl's eyes as he rifled his hand through her blonde hair. "I won't...let anything happen to you."
"Daniel!" a voice called from behind. "What are you doing? You know you're not supposed to touch that monstrosity."
"Ah...coming, Gretchen." West called back. Looking back down at Essex, his eyes were dull again. "Don't worry, Selene...my little Selene. Even though I must keep you hidden away...Even though your stepmother despises you and the whole world would rejoice at your destruction...I will protect you."
With that, the doctor hurried out of the cell, leaving Essex to wonder at the entire situation in puzzlement. She could hear Gretchen and Daniel in the hallway, not far away.
"What were you doing in there?"
"...Feeding her. She needs to eat, Gretchen."
"Tch. Let her die, already. If the Overmagus finds out, we're both dead. I don't know why you insist on keeping her. She shouldn't be alive anyway."
"....She is a valuable research subject, daughter or not."
"I wish you would abandon the Seraphim 666 project."
"They will KILL her, Gretchen. I won't let that happen to my daughter!!"
"Oh, so you ARE still harboring paternal feelings for that ...thing! Mark my words, Daniel, if you don't get rid of her, -I- will. And I will bring her blood to the Overmagus as tribute. But you...you, liebchen, will die in the gutter."
"....Yes, dear."
Seraphim 666? Essex thought absently, itching her back. She was surprised to suddenly be in pain.
There was a mirror over the small sink in the cell, and she hurried over it to look at her back. There were two long, vertical scars between her shoulder blades.
What...is going on? What's happened to Dr. West? Who's this...Overmagus?
The door opened again. Dr. West stepped through again, a revolver in his hand and a look on his face that epitomized grief and defeat.
"Come, Selene." he murmured. "We are going out."
A blonde woman stood behind, watching smugly. Dr. Gretchen Fleischman-West. Her stepmother.
--------------------------
There weren't many unattended areas in the world, but there were enough back alleys where murder and illegal activity was rampant. Clothed in a white laboratory shift and a mottled grey blanket around her, Selene tagged beside her father, looking around with her soft green eyes at the despondant world. The air was thick with magic...
West walked, his head down and his steps heavy, arm around Selene to hurry her along. Slowly, he led her into a back alley near the edge of town.
"Close your eyes, Selene." he said, in a dead voice that was not a suggestion.
"....Yes, Father." she replied quietly, closing her eyes and bowing her head. She knew what was coming. Selene only hoped her death would make life easier for her father...
She felt a wet hand pressed to her forehead, then fondling through her hair. She felt the slow fall of blood trickling down beside her nose, and couldn't help but sneeze.
"Run."
"Ah?"
"Run, Selene. No....not Selene. You mustn't be found. ....Seraphim 666....Selene... S....666... ....S6. ....Ess-six. ...Essex. Your name is Essex."
"Father?"
"I've placed a sigil on you. If they find you, they will kill you. They will hunt you down and destroy you utterly. Or worse. They will harvest you."
Essex's eyes opened and she looked up at her father. A glowing rune slowly retreated from his hand...the shape of a tiny butterfly. She couldn't know, but the mark was also on her forehead, framed in a circle of her father's blood.
"Look for the resistance." he murmured. "It's too late for me. I cannot escape them. Gretchen will never allow me to stand against the Overmagus...Now run."
He lowered the revolver to point at her, his eyes stormy.
"Run, damn you. RUN!!!"
A shot passed her cheek, slicing a thin stripe of blood across the child's white flesh. She remained there only a moment longer, green eyes wide and frightened, before she clustered the grey blanket more tightly around herself and took off running as fast as her thin legs could carry her.
"Haha....hahahaha..." Dr. West's broken laugh echoed through the alley, tempered with sobs as he raised the revolver for a final shot.
Essex didn't look back to see her father lying dead in the alley, gun barrel still clenched in his teeth.
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
((Long, long, long! 
And awesome entry, Essex. 
))
"Ooooh, Hal-chan! Do wake up! I'm pining away without you! Look, I made you some--"
ZAP
A blast of brilliant light shot through the air as Hallucinogen opened his eyes. He looked like a perfectly normal boy at first, if only three and a half feet tall, but then green smoke billowed out everywhere, and hardly anything could be seen through the lurid haze. . . wild yellow hair, and a gas mask. . . a cape with dizzying patterns, maybe a tail. . . but nothing was clearly visible.
Hal's hands stopped glowing, but his hands and teeth were clenched. "DON'T. . .DO. . .THAT," he said, livid.
"Bah," said Schizophrenias, picking himself up off the ground where he had been thrown when Hal had blasted him. "Honestly, some people can't take a joke!"
Schizo was tall and thin, dressed in lurid purple with a tattered cape. He wore a straitjacket and a blindfold with barbed wire wrapped around it, and purple lights played over his body at random intervals. He grinned horribly as he stood up, or rather floated, since he was not remotely human and was not comfortable standing too much. Clearly his blindfold did not restrict his vision, as he looked pointedly at Hallucinogen. . .
"A joke," Hallucinogen said. "That's what you call it, is it. A joke."
"Yup!" Schizo said, leering at him. "S'what I call it."
"You don't even CARE, you monster," Hal said, advancing. "She could be out there somewhere, alone and scared and cold. . . For all I know, she doesn't ever remember. . . that the world was not always. . . whatever you would call Overmagus Archlich's nightmare."
"Yeah, that's right, does he have a name for it?" Schizo said, frowning. He raised an index finger. "ARCHLICHTOPIA."
"You. . ." Hal growled.
"LICHLAND," Schizo continued. "THE MU REPUBLIC. . ."
ZAP
Schizo flew into the wall, Hal advancing on him furiously.
"I hate you."
"And I hate you!" Schizo returned. "Now that we've got that settled, you can stop attacking me. I seem to remember someone decided we needed to get along. . ."
". . .We're the same person. We HAVE to live with each other. I'm not taking it back," Hal muttered.
"That's the spirit, Hal-chan!" Schizo cackled. "So fine. We'll go find her. I know it's all you think about. . ."
". . . I'm not taking YOU," Hal said darkly.
"Whyever not?" Schizo said in mock surprise. "You know how I feel about her, don't you?"
"That," Hal said, turning away, "is EXACTLY why you're not coming."
"Oh come on now!" Schizo laughed. "You can't really go without me! We're buddies, Hal-chan!" He slapped Hal companionably on the back. The effect was less companionable, however, given that he drove a thorn into Hal's back in the process.
Hal screamed in pain, and shuddered as his muscles seized up from the poison.
"Whoops!" Schizo said, shrugging. "Oh well. You can just heal it with that radiation junk of yours. Well, anyway, time's a wasting! I'm going whether you like it or not. You better hope I don't find her first!"
Hal glared at him and staggered to his feet.
"It will be an EPIC QUEST!" Schizo said as he flung open the door to the abandoned shack they were hiding in, as though expecting radiant sunlight to pour in, but seeming satisfied with the baleful glare that ensued instead. "For FAME! FORTUNE! And TRUE LOVE! And then we all die horribly."
OOC: >_> Note to self: Outline history and current situation before letting people into post-apocalyptic world ruled by Archlich.
BIC: Excerpt From the History of the World Empire
Before the Overmagus arrived to save the world, the world was split into dozens, even hundreds of countries, each with their own government, leader, and agenda. Needless to say, each country argued with one another and fought, as such a system could never work. Two massive wars, known as the World Wars were waged, one after another due to the hubris and pride of those ancient leaders. Then there came a brief time of peace, a mere sixty years that turned out to be a lie of truely great proportions.
For the meta-humans of two countries, the United States of America and the Rogue Isles, had been plotting to throw the world into chaos and take it for their own, believing that they were God's true children, being more powerful than any mere human. And so the third World War began. Not with nuclear bombs and radioactive winters, but with might super-powered beings waging war against the rest of human-kind and those few metahumans that stood with them. These were known as the End Times as it seemed that the world itself was coming to an end as every country started fighting, trying to conquer the others or eliminate them altogether.
The End Times culminated in the Great Battle, where the last surviving armies of each side met and clashed in what used to be Spain, scarring the countryside and killing thousands. It seemed that the world would truly fall into darkness under the heels of these metahumans, that is, until the Overmagus decided that enough was enough.
Descending down from the heavens, Overmagus Archlich smote the metahumans with great pillars of flame and boulders of earth. Attempting to minimize human casualties as much as he could, the Overmagus led the fight over the Atlantic Ocean, where he slew, once and for all, the leaders of the metahumans, ending their reign of terror and destruction.
Then, the Overmagus gathered up the remnants of the countries, shattered by war, and concocted a brilliant plan. He would unite them all under one banner, the banner of the new World Empire, and thus would save them all from another such End Time. For a world ruled by a government of one is inherently more stable than a world divided up by race or nationality.
But of course there are always dissenters, and while the Overmagus was solidifying his hold in the east, the horrible Oranbegans, known to some as the Circle of Thorns, made their own bid for power in the west. They seized control of South America and western North American and immidiately began waging a war against the Overmagus and the new World Empire.
But rest assured that the Oranbegans will be defeated and the captive populace freed. But until then, we must endure every hardship stoically, knowing that one day, soon, all of it shall be worth it when the world is truly united.
************************************************
Treatise of the Armed Forces of the World Empire
The Triumverate is the massive, but simple, beast that protects the World Empire and fights against the Oranbegans and their demons and the various rebel groups springing up here and there. Composed of three seperate armies, the Army of Life, the Army of Death, and the Army of Steel, the Triumverate is led by the elite General of the Armies, Toy Dispenser, who is also the head of the Overmagus' bodyguards, the Soulsworn.
The Army of Life is the closest linked to the grand armies of old, composed entirely of human troops with the occasional enlisted non-human or demon. Equipped with state of the art machine guns, rocket launchers, and body armor, each trooper of the Army of Life is well prepared to take on the ravenous demon hordes of Oranbega. However, a small portion of the Army of Life is made up of slave units. These groups of up to a hundred men are given plate mail armor, swords, and sheilds, and then released into combat. Do not pity the slave units, as they are former violaters of the law, attempting to make good their parrole and eventually win their freedom. Better fanatics could not be found anywhere else. The leader of the Army of Life is known as Outlaw Jack, a veteran of the metahuman conflict.
The Army of Death is, as its name suggests, the darkest of the three armies. Composed of former humans animated by official Reanimators in costly rituals, the Blood Knights of the Army of Death fight with the strength of three men and can fight tirelessly until killed. Among the Blood Knights, which make up the bulk of the army, are zombies, used as cannon fodder, and proto-liches, those mages that are applying for lich-hood but must spend a certain amount of time in the army before being accepted. The number of applicants for lich-hood is never lacking, but only one or two ascend each year to the Overmagus' tower and return with his blessings. Those are the most powerful of the mages and fight only in the most dire of circumstances. The leader of the Army of Death is none other than the apprentice of the Overmagus himself, Death's Right Hand.
The Army of Steel is perhaps the most unusual of the Triumverate, composed as it is of beings that have no life or indeed, some argue, no souls. Robots and golems, one and all, the Army of Steel is an implacable force of good, trielessly righting the wrongs that the Oranbegans have committed against the World Empire. The standard Steel unit is composed of drones, massive, hulking brutes of metal and circuitry armed with the best weapons money can buy. More specialized units abound as well, such as the Scavenger scout unit and the slow but powerful Adamantine Golems, created in lengthy rituals that can last weeks. This army is commanded by an android called the Malevolith.
Finally, seperate from the Triumverate but linked to all three, is the Secret Police. Publically led by Feliks Danya, the Secret Police makes sure that no Oranbegan sympathizers exist within the boundaries of the World Empire and are also the Empire's first line of defense against the rebels spawning from the Rogue Isles and Paragon City. Little is known about the Police and even less can be written.
OOC: There we go. More info. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to PM me. And remember, there is technology along the lines of the CoX universe, but magic is also a lot more common and wider used.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
((This reminds me of last years 'House of M' or was it this year))
HaloInc
Triumph:
Heroes: Lady Halifax, Miss Kia, WhiteLotus, Agent Immolate, Lady Empathy, Sylence Fyredancer, Maiden of Fire
Villains: Innocent-Ella, Aegis-Sprite, Midnight Dragonfly
((Well, if you need a suggestion.
How about. . . all technology that Archlich does not control is forbidden? ))
GLX 0249.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
It had always been a perogative - a very important one.
GLX 1742.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
Terra's position was nobody's beeswax.
GLX 0261.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
Especially not the Concile's.
GLX 1102.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
That's why long ago, someone had set up a galaxy-wide network of tiny relay stations that shot transmissions from ot to Terra all over the place. Every now and then, one of them was discovered, but that didn't matter - there were far too many to ever find any scheme between them.
And only a few of them had any relevant data at any given time, which was passed on constantly. Being this, the relays bounced the transmission around until it hit one that currenlty had relevant data.
In this case, GLX 1019 - which had the current position of the APOCALYPSE...
---------------------
Which surrently sat in orbit above one of the Concile's many slave worlds.
Under fire.
And Acid snarled viciously as the massive vessel was shaken yet again.
"Status?" he demanded, taking a break form barking orders at the small fleet of agglomerated ships around them.
"Transports AD'VALIS and KARMERUT are away." SENECA answered him before the bridge personnel could, composed once again of Allen's Necrian troopers, "Evacuation is almost complete. We should be done before SVE reinforcements arrive."
"Let's hope so." Vern added, panting heavily as he concentrated on slamming two more of the variable-cell ships into one another, sewing confusion and panic in the enemy lines, "I can't keep this up much longer."
"You won't have to." Acid replied solemly, not taking his eyes off the holodsplay. Several ships had been hit hard. It was no surprise. This fleet was a flying scrap pile. Everything but the APOCALPYSE and her Gunships had tagged along at one point or another, wanting to help however they could.
Acid would have loved to tell them to get lost. But until they reached one of the Hidden Worlds, the space around the massive carrier was the only safe spot around.
And 'safe' was a very relative term.
"I was wrong." SENECA announced, "Two hundred SVE ships have just left halfspace. More are arriving by the second."
"Gunships 1, 3 and 4 to flank!" Acid commanded, "Cover those transports. Pilot, put us between the planet and the SVEs."
The pilot didn't question, executing the order without hesitation.
"Fire control, put 'em in a gigaring. Salvo tact 7."
The bridge door slammed shut as the salvo tact began, the entire ship locking down into thousands of compartments.
And the guns roared. Not audibly, of course, but the harsh shockwaves could be felt everywhere. However, they were nothing compared to the results on the other side.
One after another, the SVE ships popped like soap bubbles, charges up to 6000 gigatons of TNT in yield suddenly appearing out of nowhere in their innards.
But there were simply too many. Acid scowled as the third transport vaporized in their fire as it tried to make a break for it. The SVE units downright ignored the escort Gunships, even as they tore into their formation with salvo upon salvo of gigabombs.
"Change of plans!" Acid immediately reacted as the fourth transport was selected to meet the same fate, "Course 2-4-9!"
"But Sir, that...!" the pilot gasped, but was quickly silenced by another, "Course 2-4-9! NOW!!!"
The size of the APOCALPSE belied its speed. Interstellar combat was a matter of near-luminal velocities, and the gargantuan carrier was by no means a slow hulk.
Before the SVE units knew it, the 5-kilometer-long vessel was upon them. At 300 meters in diameter, the spherical opponents seemed dwarfed, and the Concile fleet commander gasped in horror as the APOCLYPSE rammed the first few right out of the way, laying into the quickly turning others with a vicious bombardement of artificial suns.
"I've got a signal." SENECA suddenly announced, "It's..."
"Later." Acid ordered, gritting his teeth.
And then the final transport faded from space, its liner drive catapulting it to superluminal speeds.
"We're done!" he announced, clenching his fist, "All units, pull out!"
And they did. Not one by one, but in a massive transition, the ragtag fleet rushed away into the safety of halfspace. It wasn't really a space, just a boundary, but it was damn near untraceable - and that made it an excellent medium for covert getaways.
And last of all, the APOCALPSE stormed away as well. The Concile forces were left with a demolished, empty planet, heavy losses, and nothing to show for it.
A victory in the public image.
But not for Acid.
Two hundred thousand people had been aboard that transport.
That wasn't something easily swallowed...
---------------------
Ding.
"Come in." Acid sighed, rolling over in his bunk again.
In stepped Allen, the wolflike Necrian holding a hologram of some sort.
"We're done decoding the signal." he started, sitting down next to his friend, "I'd really wish you'd stop scrunching everything down to a picosecond. It takes forever to stretch out again."
Acid didn't respond.
"Anyway, it's a signal from Terra. Someothing's gone wrong. Malleus Mundi kind of wrong."
Acid snapped to attention, sitting up immediately, "What the hell?! I thought we hid those, and...!"
"Apprently not well enough." Vern interruped as he walked in, "Looks like someone managed to gather all the pages back together somehow. Acoording to the impulse, Terra turned into a giant mess."
Acid sighed, the geez-not-again look in his eyes, "So what're you here for?"
"To try and convince you not to go. Terra might be your pet project, but let's face it, most humans are bumbling idiots. Besides..."
"Oh, screw what the Law says!" Acid exploded, storming up from his bunk, "You may not believe it, but I tell you, one day those damn apes are gonna be our greatest asset."
Vern just grinned, causing Acid's wild gesturing to suddenly fall limp.
"I hate you." he huffed as he realized Vern had tricked him yet again, then turned to Allen, "Both of you."
Allen just grinned as well...
---------------------
"Alright guys, here's the deal." Acid paced back and forth at the meeting in the third portside hangar, "Vern, you're with me. Kerat, Al, Doc, I'm counting on you to get these people home. And send the brothers my way as soon as they're done rigging the third moon of Kihar to blow."
The spoken to nodded. There was no more need to say anything, even as Vern and Acid boarded the AGS-3.
Everyone had work to do...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Essex stumbled through the alleys. Her white-skinned feet were bare, and the gravel of the ground tore at them.
....I should be able to...
Her feet gently lifted off the ground at the merest thought. A bit surprised at her magical ability, she hesitated.
...At least my capabilities are not wholly different than I'm used to...
Testingly, she attempted a nanite pulse to heal her cut and bleeding feet. To her satisfaction, a pulse, not of nanites, but of magical energy came to her aid, quickly healing the skin completely.
...Two sets of memories. I distinctly remember being a robot...and yet....I know my mother's face. I have been in that chamber for...I don't recall how long. But didn't I go to the store yesterday? ....How curious.
The little girl's stomach growled miserably. She hadn't eaten much of her gruel that morning - and her memories informed her that she was only allotted one meal per day.
She had no money. All she had was her blanket and the white shift.
Essex moved up to a small restaurant, just as the owner was dumping garbage out the back. The man stared at her for a second.
"You lookin' for a meal, kid?"
Essex bit her lip and nodded.
"Can ya sing?"
Essex paused.
"I..."
"Whatever. C'mon in. We need some entertainment. Usually we get the drunk homeless guys to sing, but a little kid should be pretty entertaining. If you do well enough I'll give you some toast, all right?"
Essex was glad that her blanket reached to the ground as she carefully touched down and took the man's hand. She was shocked at how white her skin was...
...and then wasn't. She had spent the last several years of her life in the underground room, she thought with certainty.
Thrown up on stage, she stumbled a bit, her bare feet making light patters on the splintered wood. Leering eyes stared up at the little girl as she took down the microphone carefully.
Pausing to wet her lips uncertainly, her voice softly began to form a tune.
...Sillhouettes above the cradle,
Hold me down,
They won't let me go the wrong way.
My mother taught me all the fables,
Told me how,
In the end, all the sinners have to pay.
And I don't wanna live like my mother,
I don't wanna,
Let fear rule my life,
I don't wanna live like my father,
I don't wanna,
Give up before I die...
He worked so hard, his bones are breaking,
He wore them down,
Long ago he lost the feeling...
His good intentions leave me shaking,
Show me how,
I don't ever want to end up like he did.
And I don't wanna live like my mother,
I don't wanna,
Let fear rule my life,
I don't wanna live like my father,
I don't wanna,
Give up before I die..."
Essex's voice was clear and soft, and a strange feeling hung in the air. There was something about her song that was...disarming. The sharp eyes of the men in the bar seemed...not as sharp. They almost seemed lost as they rested on the tiny girl with the wispy blonde hair and the pale white skin.
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
As the hours ticked inexorably forward, Kefetasura's mind was working in both directions.
Since he had crossed back into Maya, the newly forged lie began to corrupt the illusion. The demon found himself sitting at the foot of his temple, unable to seperate the strings of illusions. He started and scrambled up the stairs when he saw the ethereal forms of a small boy wearing a red blindfold talking to a hulking blonde man with shiny golden gloves.
"Not this . . . ," he said squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.
To add to his confusion, the new lie was working itself backwards, permeating his perceptions of the past. He could now distinctly recall two entirely different versions of the past. To make matters worse, philisophically speaking, they were both lies, and so the small purple skinned man struggled to recall which lie was the original. He laid still beneath the mountain, sleeping until he was needed again. So, when the men came to take him away, he put up no struggle. They carried Kefetasura easily. Kefetasura could not be touched. The mountain would protect him.
It was the greatest lie of all, the one that fooled the liar.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Wow, this is some crazy old temple looking thing."
"Cut the chatter," the commander barked.
What's this?" said one of the men from the Expeditionary force. The commander waved him on, so he stepped forward to the foot of the temple and prodded Kefetasura's prone body with a toe.
No response.
"Whatever he is, I think he's dead."
"All the better," the Commander said flatly, "Well, it seemed in pretty good shape. Crate it up and get it on the next cargo train to New Mu. They can study it as much as they want, or just reanimate it at their discretion."
"Sir!" two men responded in unison, picking up the sleeping demon and carrying him off back to their base camp.
"Skiiiiiies of blue, and clouds of white!" Schizo sang as he and Hal walked across the deserted city. It was out in the middle of nowhere, and the best place Hal had found to hide from the Triumvirate. He had no idea where it was. . . but he didn't think the Overmagus's troops did either, yet.
"The blessed days!" Schizo continued, as they walked under the bleak, searing sun, alone in the desolate wasteland. "The dark, sacred nights! And I think to myselllllllf. . . what a wonderful world!"
". . .Please stop," Hal muttered, tears forming in his eyes.
The tower in Peregrine was still active even as the AGS-3 burst out of halfspace not five million clicks from Terra. As soon as it sensed the ship's presence, the machinery within the tower sent all data it had gathered so far.
It wasn't a pretty picture.
The offshoot of SENECA had spread its global tentacles, leeching information out of everything it could, and so it had quite the fill of data to present.
It likely hadn't gone undetected, but it wasn't programmed to care about that in this situation. Anything it could acess was acessed, from public records to the deepest, dirtiest secrets of the so-called secret police.
How it got into these systems was even more of a mystery, and it would later turn out that several of these records hadn;t even been stored in any manner of computer. if it was just near some form of processor, the intruder seemed to be able to see it without any difficulty at all...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Xey awoke from his slumber in a dark room. dim runes of all colors were the only thing giving off any light around him he tried to move out of the center of the room and outside to the open air; tears in his eyes but he could not remember why or why he was in this room all he knew was that he needed to get out NOW! With a surge of negative energy he demolished the room, the door gone he walked out. Looking around him he saw nothing but wilderness and a beach. The beach looked demolished and had no signs of life. He suddenly had a primal urge to take to the sky. With another surge of power though this one different more of this plane of existence his massive wings unfurled from his back and with a running start he was off. Looking in disbelief at his new appendages that were pure white in color. Dipping and turning with mostly lack of grace he looked down at the beach and saw buildings and a big metal box with the letters G, S, R. looking down from his vantage point he saw a person walking from the craft.
"Well I need to figure out where I am and whats going on so might as well ask that person" Xey thought to himself
Swooping down from the sky Xey tried to stop and wound up landing on his backside right in front of this person "well so much for first impressions" he thought though he couldn't seem to tell where that quote was from.
"Umm hello there Im Xey.....do you know what has happened here?"
((ooc: so who controls the eastcoast of the former US?))
[url="http://www.g4tv.com/pile_player.aspx?video_key=16533"]http://www.g4tv.com/pile_player.aspx?video_key=16533[/url]
a City of Heroes movie on the way?
The ring of mages looked at their leader before returning to stare at the odd device. Their dark red robes fluttered slightly in the breeze and a small crowd had gathered around them composed of people not already frightened off by the emergence of the machine.
The leader, a proto-lich, snapped shut a scroll case and slid it into a deep pocket lost amidst his pure white robes. His thin, drawn face twisted in an expression of unholy glee as he gestured for his men to heed him.
"The word of the Overmagus is law!" the proto-lich announced. "And the Overmagus condems this structure! Erase it from this Earth!"
As one, the mages removed a scroll from their robes and began chanting in unison. The proto-lich recited the spell from memory, weaving the energies into one massive spell. Together, the combined might of the disintigration spell would shatter the machine unto dust, ripping it apart at an atomic level. This proto-lich was also very good at his job. He really liked making things not exist any more.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
It was just a small hillside clearing a half-mile into the forest. It would be the perfect place to build your base, no doubt.. but even after triple-checking what coordinates he had, Lyden was all but positive- no fort existed here in the first place. But something had certainly happened. The hill was pockmarked with craters, many of the trees were burned and charred in places- markings that Lyden had decided were consistent with an arcane battle. Odd, again- there was supposed to be no conflict here.
No violence was good violence, though. Lyden sat down in one of the small craters on the hill, setting his case infront of it- opening it and setting his pistol back inside, then dismantling the stock, scope and silencer from his SMG- then putting all those in, too. Then standing up and beginning his long trudge through the forest- he would check out the town next. It would do no good to walk around with all of his weaponry out. His lander was still on the beach when he arrived- the door had closed automatically. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere.
- - - - -
The town was populated, albeit sparsely. Lyden found it odd as he casually but alertly watched the streets how ill-kept the people looked, and how they would forcefully avert their eyes when they saw him- this was different from the staring in public he was used to. Of course, he still looked like a soldier, so he would stand out no matter how he walked- and he would soon be noticed as a roving Steel Trooper squad, who had been walking in the middle of the road when they noticed him, turning and heading directly toward him in formation. Lyden stopped to meet them, and a mechanical voice rumbled out from behind their black and red armor.
"Provide identification or we will open fire."
Lyden blinked. Fair enough. "Unit Lyden is a supersoldier owned by Greensryche Research, subsidary of Greensryche Industries." As an afterthought, he slid down one of his gloves, revealing a thin barcode on his forearm. There was a flash of red across it as it met with the lead bot's scanners, and then silence.
"No match found. Provide correct information or we will open fire. This is your last warning."
"..."
Well, not having armed himself while in the town was an innocent mistake- but an easily correctable one. Lyden fixed his glove, and appeared to be taking a deep breath to speak- then expelled a thin cloud of negative energy and bolted backwards into the alley behind him, turning a corner before the first volley of shots clamored off the wall in his path. Lyden had a new mission now- get to cover, assemble his weaponry, and defend himself.
Something is wrong.
Midas Phillis turned over in his sleep, his long dark red hair slipping off his face, aside from a few strands that had gotten caught between his cracked lips. He had several scars on his cheeks, and a prominent one that fell from the bridge of his nose, around his mouth, and under his chin. He was handsome, quite handsome, without them, but he was proud of them. He had earned every single one saving his people.
Scirocco? That son of a [censored]!
He had been a general in the End Times, a rogue general, but still a general nonetheless. Hed spent years creating automatic soldiers and recruiting the morally upright for cybernetic treatments. Theyd fought the metahumans, the slimy bastards. He had always known it would come to that damned war. Their heroes had betrayed them, it was all so obvious from the beginning. They were the greatest of pretenders, and he had been the only one to see through it. His army had fought hard and well, but there were so many of the freaks. His machines had been reduced to scrap metal, and his men had been taken out in one fell swoop when his compound had been attacked. He had been the only one to get away, shoved into an escape ship by his lover, Reyna, as she fought to hold off the threat. He had tried to stop, but it had been on autopilot. He had heard her last moments on his communicator. She had told him that she loved him before letting out a scream and falling silent. He hadnt heard from her since.
Not Scirocco. Who is Scirocco? I dont even know that name.
When the Overmagus came and destroyed the metahumans, he had sworn fealty in an instant. Of course he did, the mans ideas were his own. One nation, one power. But it had all turned sour. It wasnt how he had wanted it to be. Dead soldiers. Propaganda. Hed run from his engineering position for the Army of Steel. He hadnt even taken his makes with him when he left, but of course, it hadnt been a planned departure, more of an outraged, impulsive one. Reyna had always told him he was too impulsive.
Overmagus? No, not the Overmagus. I dont understand.
And so he was in hiding. Hed been lucky enough to find himself a nice underground bunker to convert into a lab, but there was still much left to be desired. Still, hed managed to build a few clunky machines he had used to steal a bed and a few essentials. A man needed the essentials, even if he had to steal them. He felt terrible about it, but the people would forgive him when he saved them, he was sure.
This isnt your world, you ignorant, weak-minded, numbskulled, flabbergasted [censored]! Do the illusions of one pathetic, broken dead man truly contort your perspective enough to believe a lifetime of lies?! WAKE UP!
Cyba! Midas screamed as he shot up in bed, tumbling from the mattress and landing on the floor with a loud thump. There was no one to answer his call, however. He let out a groan. He was alone.
No, not entirely alone, he knew as he looked over to the deactivated robots along his wall. There were three of them. Large, clunky, and impractical. Nothing like what he could have made with the right materials, but they had to do.
The shook his head and pushed himself to his feet, feeling a sincere uneasiness as he looked around the room. Long shadows were cast from every object, creating phantoms and specters in every corner of the room. The whole effect was rather eerie, but it wasnt what was scaring him out of his mind.
He had turned every light off, including the bedside lamp. He shouldnt be able to see.
The robotist let out an intense scream of terror as he ran at the source of light, a glowing gem on his workbench. It was red. No, clear, but with red lightning bouncing around the inside in such a dense pattern that it was nearly impossible to tell the difference without prior knowledge. Which he really shouldnt know, he realized as he got closer and gave it a harsh slap with his hand.
The crystal went skidding across the floor and bumped into a wall, but didnt shatter or explode, just yelled at him.
What the hell was that even supposed to do?! it roared at him in a voice he was sure was his own. What scientific hypothesis prompts a man such as myself to scream and charge to backhand a strange magical object!? Do you have no sense of self-preservation, or am I just ignorant to the fact that this reality uses physical strikes as a miracle cure for all maladies?!
Midas stared at the gem, which was pulsing angrily. His mouth opened in a silent shriek as he fell back on his behind, his vision of the object obscured by his desk, though the glow still radiated from all sides of it.
Oh, wretched man! Now youve just fallen down and hidden behind a desk? the gem shouted indignantly. I find it hard to believe that even a reactant as powerful as the Mallus Mundi could warp my personality to this point! No weapons, no plans to retreat, no soldiers to send at me, just falling down? For hells sake, you unbelievable [censored], you have a battle group slumped against the walls, did you ever think of activating them instead of collapsing in a pathetic heap!?
Midas Phillis stood up quickly and ran to the robots on the wall, sweating. S-sorry! he said, flipping switches.
STOP! the gem roared.
The robotist froze where he was standing, his knees shaking.
I have a lot of work to do. The Philosophers Stone muttered to itself, personifying the realtime spirit of the nefarious Dr. Phillis. Get your clothes on, put me in your pocket, and let me tell you something.
Midas woke up with a splitting headache. He identified the cause quite easily: the floor. Hed fainted and fallen backwards, creating a sizable bump on the back of his head. He needed to carpet this bunker.
Oh, good, it had all been a dream. All was well. He had honestly believed that a crystal had been talking to him! He chuckled and scratched his head.
Running a hand over his chin, the robotist realized that he hadnt shaved this morning. He had a terrible fuzz growing. That had to go, he couldnt stand having a furry face. His scar tissue made and attempt at facial hair quite bizarre.
Done breaking down yet, or am I going to have to watch as you squirm on the floor and soil yourself again? his own voice asked him from across the room.
I soiled myself!? Midas yelled, jumping up at feeling his briefs.
I certainly hope not, I was merely exaggerating. The gem responded with a sigh. Youre not very smart, are you?
Yes, I am! Midas answered indignantly. Or is it no, Im not? Im a genius!
You certainly havent made it evident. The crystal replied. Now will you please get up and let me explain a few things to you?
Id rather leave. The robotist replied honestly.
GET THE HELL OVER HERE, YOU PSYCOTIC, PATHETIC SHELL OF A MAN!
Midas yelped and ran forward, taking the gem in his hand and clutching it tightly in both hands.
Thats better. The gem said smugly. You arent entirely useless, though you shouldnt be useless at all, taking into account that youre just an alternate version of me. Tell me, at what point did you become an unstable bumbling idiot?
The robotist looked confused. Well, my inventions stopped working as well when the End Times stopped. There was a sharp intake of breath. And Reyna died.
Buck up, imbecile. The gem commanded. Reyna isnt dead.
Really? the scientist asked hopefully.
Well, not in real time
. It continued. Have I mentioned that your life is an elaborate lie created by an artifact I once tried to use myself, but instead decided to destroy?
How can an artifact create something if its destroyed? Midas asked skeptically, right before his eyes widened. Wait, which part of my life is a lie?!
The part after World War II, I believe. The gem said in bored tones. This would all be so much easier if you would just absorb the power of the Philosophers Stone and let me take over my body long enough to repair the damage done to Earths timestream.
No! Midas yelled. Wait
what?
Do I have to explain it in laymans terms? Fine then. My world was changed by the power of the Mallus Mundi. Because of previous interactions with the artifact involving Scirocco and the Muvian magic imbedded in the Philosophers Stone by my one-time allies mystics, a piece of my consciousness remained intact and alive inside of the artifact I used as a super villain to fight the hypocritical systems of government around the world. Though it was once used to power a suit of armor, you dont seem to possess that same armor, so Im going to have to ask you to absorb the power in this Stone so I can grant you the awareness and power to destroy the tyrant that ripped apart the fabric of reality. Now, will you please absorb me? You need to have an epiphany.
I think Im going to get a drink. Midas answered dully as he set the Philosophers Stone down on his workbench and opened a drawer, retrieving a pair of pants and a lab coat. It may help me become less crazy.
IM NOT MAD, DAMN YOU! the gem shouted. And therefore, you arent mad! Youll understand it all if you just let me enter you! Im just a form of your own consciousness! Youll just gain the truth, I wont be taking over!
The robotist had slid on the pants and was shoving his arms down the sleeves of the lab coat.
Dont ignore me! the Stone screamed. Would you let the world decay and crumble because youre too pathetic to take on the responsibility of protecting your people?! You [censored], get over here and- HEY! Dont you walk away!
Midas slipped on his shoes as quickly as he could and sprinted up the stairs, the screams up the gem following him until he had escaped out of his exit hatch and into the rundown warehouse it was concealed in. He slammed it quickly and ran, slowing only once he was several blocks away. Running was a suspicious practice and punishable by interrogation, but this was important.
I need a drink. Midas repeated to himself.
Luckily for the haggard man, there was a tavern just across the street. He warily walked toward it, egged on as he heard several gunshots from some distance away.
The place was smoky and filled with rough characters, but it was salvation to the terrified robotist, who gladly plopped himself down on a splintery wooden chair and ordered something strong. His leaned his chair back, pressing it against the edge of the stage. He liked having his back against something, so he had chosen his seat carefully and subconsciously. He did most things subconsciously these days.
His chair fell down with a clatter as a figure was tossed onto the stage. He nearly fell over from his surprise, but he got his balance by grabbing onto the table, which tipped and slopped the entire contents of his drink onto his hand.
With a sigh, he brushed off the back of his soppy hand and turned his attention to the stage, where a little girl had just begun singing.
The oddest thing was, he could swear he knew her. But from where? He squinted at her, leaning forward to see if he could spark the memory that was trying to force its way back into his brain.
(([ QUOTE ]
For the meta-humans of two countries, the United States of America and the Rogue Isles, had been plotting to throw the world into chaos and take it for their own, believing that they were God's true children, being more powerful than any mere human. And so the third World War began. Not with nuclear bombs and radioactive winters, but with might super-powered beings waging war against the rest of human-kind and those few metahumans that stood with them. These were known as the End Times as it seemed that the world itself was coming to an end as every country started fighting, trying to conquer the others or eliminate them altogether.
The End Times culminated in the Great Battle, where the last surviving armies of each side met and clashed in what used to be Spain, scarring the countryside and killing thousands. It seemed that the world would truly fall into darkness under the heels of these metahumans, that is, until the Overmagus decided that enough was enough.
[/ QUOTE ]
))
((Wait, so you mean the Malta group LOST to the Metahumans?!))
(( AGGGHHH!!!))
He wasn't certain if the lapse in his memory was caused by the nano-tech fluid in his veins, or by some otherworldly force, but he collapsed to the floor in his lab.
He looked down at his hands and recoiled in horror, seeing that the once flawless skin of his arms had been converted by the microscopic machines in his bloodstream.
Impossible! My calculations were precise... I was to have years before...
He reached up to his face, gently touching his features with mechanized hands and gasped.
Frantically he scoured his lab and settled upon a reflective piece of armor plating, staring at the visage that greeted him back. His face had been changed as well, taking on the properties of his experiments. Once considered handsome, he was now grotesque... corrupted by the machine.
The intense feelings subsided, erased like the memories of a different past.
His lab seemed to change as well... growing darker. Or was it the memory that merely gave way?
Looking around he would have given in to the sensations of regret and loss, watching as the memory of his lab... of his work dissipated; but such emotion was being stripped away as well.
With a mechanized groan Krieger closed the long black coat he wore, lifting the colar around his neck and left the ruins of the abandonned warehouse.
The dust settled behind him.
The connuncations tower blew apart under the spell. It had no defenses, and to conceal what lay beneath it, was programmed to self-destruct if an attack was not sufficiently scaled to destroy it.
However, this offense was, and the parts of the tower that hadn't disintegrated blew spectacularly...
--------------------
"We've lost transmission."
Acid nodded to the pilot, then turned to face the beidge crew, inclusing Vern, "Alright, we've got a, little info, but not enough to act on yet."
it didn't take a genius to figure that this 'Overmagus' had used the Malleus Mundi to forge Terra into his own personal playground. Sadly, no record the tower had been able to send conained a reference as to his actual identity or location.
Either it was such common knowledge that it didn't need to be stored, or it was secretive enough to lock away under the highest of protections in the most unreachable of spots.
"So what now?" Vern wanted to know.
"We land."
"Well, that's obvious, I meant where?"
"That's a good question..."
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
It's a lich's world...
O Fortuna,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing,
ever waning
hateful life
first opresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.
Fate - Monstrous
and empty,
you are a whirling wheel,
you are malevolent,
well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too,
now through the game
I bring my bare back
to your villainy.
Fate is against me
in health
and virtue
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.
So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating
since Fate
striked down the sting man,
everyone weeps with me!
************************************************
On All Hallow's Eve in the year 2006, the world was shattered upon an armored knee and reconstructed according to the will of one neither omnipotent nor omniscient, but desirous of both. Everything that had been, ceased to be; everything that could have been, never happened; everything that was, changed.
For the Malleus Mundi, the Hammer of the World, had been picked up by one possessing the knowledge and power to wield it and remade the world in his image. But like all things of mortal creation, the spell was not perfect and isolated remnants of the former time stream remained, trapped in a world that suddenly made no sense at all.
**********************************************
Ever since the Great Battle and the destruction of the majority of the world's metahumans, Overmagus Archlich has resided over mankind. From his mighty city fortress of New Mu located in the blasted ruins that were once the country of France, the Overmagus commands his vast legions, known collectively as the Triumverate, and enforces his will upon the entire world.
Some people willingly accepted his rule as a relief from the anarchy of the End Times, when the world entered its third World War, others followed because they believed that the Overmagus, in his immense age and power, would lead them to glory or salvation. Still others obey him because of the daily patrols and executions, wary of speaking out against the Overmagus and disappearing into the night forever.
It is a harsh rule that the Overmagus enforces, but enemies enough abound to give him an excuse for such protocals. The ferocious Oranbegans controlling western North America and all of South America wage a constant war against the Triumverate and the Overmagus, and their atrocities in battle are outrageous. But despite the safety that the Overmagus offers, some refuse and have started a small rebellion. It is small, but tenacious, doing what they can to destabilize the massive beast that is the World Empire.
**********************************************
Or so it seems, but some know that this is all a lie and remember what should be. But the question remains, where and who, are they?
OOC: One or two characters only please. You may use the information provided to either post your characters as the change suddenly happens or you may have them somewhere a bit more private. In the second case, I will introduce you to Archlich's reality personally, and provide some useful information as well. For the first choice, I will take what you sketched out and roll with it. After that, it's up to you what you do. I'd suggest trying to link up with a friendly face.
Good luck.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.