Rise: Tales of the Verse
Posted 06 February 2014 - 01:55 PM
It should also be noted I have pretty drunk.
Posted 07 February 2014 - 01:39 PM
194 Hours into Bombardment
4.8km from OSS Heavenly Spirit
Destroying their flagship had not slowed down the Empire’s pursuit of Keyes; their robotic, probing scouts found the heat signatures in the ground, the trail marks, and the oil and blood spillage. Traced them right back to the canyon they had taken refuge in and called it in. Only hours after sacrificing their ship the Empire had pinpointed the survivors and began launching wave after wave into their chokepoint to finish the job. It was beyond war; it was extermination. A desire to remove every Ossyrian from the face of the universe.
When they entrenched their Iron Gorillas and tanks and artillery pieces in their rock shelter, each and every single soldier there had selected his grave. There was no winning this battle. This was the battle; that last battle that every Ossyrian wanted. The chance to die on their feet fighting back.
Ossyrian firepower ripped the first waves of infantry and fast-moving scout walkers into red, gory chunks and broken steel with ease. Their upper ground, enforced position had given them the defense they needed to hold out. Yet, for every Imperial soldier killed more would soon replace him. When an Ossyrian bit the bullet, they fell backwards into the company of their brothers and sisters, forever diminishing. By 194 hours, their line had been tested. Much of their defense had fallen apart thanks to compensation from Imperial HMVs and mechanized cavalry breaching and pulling apart squads. The line would hold out for an hour, maybe less. It was hard to tell with the sheer amount of smoke and fire and populace within the canyon.
Isaac Keyes approached his father, holding a helmet under each arm. Each helmet was labeled ‘Keyes’ and powered up to connect with their parked HMVs. The last of the marines remained in line at the front of their HMVs, waiting for their Admiral’s last orders.
“I’m sorry I dragged you down with me,” Abraham placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, looking into an almost identical version of him as a youth.
“I volunteered for this, dad,” Isaac placed a helmet in his father’s hands, “And I don’t regret a single thing.”
A pang shot throughout Abraham, challenging his leadership, fatherhood, manhood and emotions all at once. He didn’t want to see his son die but he couldn’t have asked for a better crew to go out with. The last of the Keyes family, the last Ossyrian heroes.
Admiral Keyes boarded his personal mecha, the Utah, but did not shut his cockpit window. The other troops followed in line and remained with their cockpits open. More fire, more smoke, more deaths as the line fell apart. There was no retreat for the few survivors who opted to fight as many damn Imps as they could in the trenches. Giant HMVs began clambered over the rocks, towards their position in the canyon’s cave.
“Men? This shall be our final resting place; deep in our bullet-riddled metal coffins, with our hands still wrapped around the throats of those Empire bastards. For Ossyria, we give our lives….”
“…For the enemy, we give only death.”
They shut their cockpits together as the first shots rang out before they launched their final HMV counterattack, leaping into the fray. Isaac brought his gun right into HMV chasis and held the trigger to blow apart the bots. Iron Gorillas and Rangers fired their rockets and their machine guns, blowing up dozens of mechas with concentrated firepower. Volleys of Imperial laser beams fried more Ossyrian mechas searing through their armor with efficiency. Two blade-wielding combatants dropped down onto Isaac, slicing and swinging. He dodged two of the first assailant’s swings only to take a devastating swipe from the second, right through the left arm. The Utah finished pounding two mechas together, sprang over and scooped up both with its massive arms. It threw one into the wall, exploding while he gripped the second tighter and tighter. Bolts and nuts began bursting right off as Abraham crushed the pilot to death. He launched the lifeless HMV back into the waves of mechas swarming, shaking off ballistic fire through pure fury. Isaac climbed over the corpse of another ranger, joining his father deeper into the battle. He fired the last of his magazine at a sniper mecha firing from the back but fell victim to three bruisers jumping and grabbing at him. He flung one off, into the ground but was brought down, stabbing and swinging into the dirt.
On board the Utah’s monitors the heartbeat monitors of all his troops began disappearing from the board one by one, down to his son and him. When Isaac’s name disappeared from the feed, he knew that he done what was asked of him. The Utah punched through more and more mechas, a massive swirl of orange fists and legs, crumbling and failing under heavy damage. The screens shattered from a burst shot of nearby HMVs and the metal frame and simply been blown open, leaving Abraham to taste the stale air of the battle outside. Light from the muzzles of their guns let light race through the bullet holes, shining on the bloodied Abraham.
His fingers gripped tighter onto the controls, even though he could feel more and more blood leaving his body. To the end. Fight to the end.
Keyes grabbed a mecha by its leg and swung it like a club into another, knocking them apart. The HMV’s jumped onto the Utah, one on each limb while others began clawing, swinging and shooting at the struggling mecha.
To the end, as he was asked. When the shooting stopped, he closed his eyes and smiled, content with his choice. Although his body would remain on that unnamed moon outside Homeworld, his soul would always belong to Ossyria, now nothing but a fleeting memory.
“There’s nothing we can do for them, Ally,” Miko explained to her employee, dabbing at Lilith’s bleeding mouth, “Nothing but wait for Ray’s next move.”
“I think I know where it’s gonna be,” Haruka mumbled, bringing a shaking and tired hand up to a holonews screen across from the bed. Citizen outcry over the destruction of Ossyria and the confusion of the initial peace meeting needed to be debriefed. Kincaid sat before dozens of reporters and diplomats in his grand, ornate council room in the Royal Palace, just blocks away from their safehouse.
“What’s he gonna do?” Kanade took a drag on a limp cigarette, “Kill Kincaid?”
“No. Well, I don’t know. If we find Ax..Axel first then we c-c-can end this stupid war.”
“There’s no guarantee that he’s even here.”
“I know Ray. Axel is here.”
Ally #1 winked. Constants and variables.
They gathered their things, dressed themselves and left the safehouse to join the protest outside. They wanted answers, not ‘Ossyrians shot first’ excuses. It was easy to blend in but both Haruka and Ally found it difficult to keep up. Remaining in this universe was continuously sapping at them, draining them of life, removing them from the equation. Ally #2 kept the SRMD slung on her back, hidden from security. Gyver’s Leprede-agility allowed him to sneak right past security checkpoints and Haken’s brute strength forced their entry on what few doors remained. Growing dissidence outside kept them covered and soon they had snuck right into the Royal Palace’s gardens. Their outlandish outfits and gritty faces were stark differences compared to the pale, fresh faces of pampered nobles.
The noise outside was cancelled upon entry into the castle. It was easy to forget about the people you ruled when you don’t have to listen to them. They ran past more nobles, up to where Kincaid would be soon speaking. They needed to show him the truth before Ray could strike.
“Where are the guards?” Haken asked while flexing his muscular arms. Kanade pointed to the slumped corpse of a man missing his uniform propped between a statue and a topiary. The hallway was filled with a few other corpses, all ended with a small and precise shot between the eyes.
“Ray’s already here. We have to rush,” Haruka spat blood and braced against the wall to cough more up. They sprinted faster, reaching the council room’s hallway. Ahead, a string of gunshots and screams. Each mercenary prepared their weapon as they kicked the doors down to the Council Room. Khenan had just finished shooting a diplomat live on holonews while Rex prepared a blindfolded Natasha and Axel to be executed live in front of the cameras. Ray had forced the survivors, including a scowling Kincaid and a well-dressed and articulate Senator Sampson, into the corner. When they entered a stand-off was born with each side pointing guns at another.
“I thought I told you all to mind your own damn business,” Ray growled, pointing his gun right at Clyde’s helmet.
“This is our business,” He replied. Yoshimitsu dragged herself to one of the cameras and began speaking directly at it.
“This terrorist here is responsible for the death of Ossyria. He sabotaged the ambassador meeting, kidnapped the Imperial ambassadors and is no doubt clearing the runway for the next war. He used you all. Ray Shishigami is your villain.”
She kicked the camera to swivel and face the masked man who had said nothing.
“You stupid girl. You just don’t get it. It’s never been about the Ossyrians, or the Empire or any faction. This is much bigger. When the Travesti hear of such interference, I’ll make sure they make your death a painful one. You cannot escape them, no matter to which corner of the galaxy you flee. I chose the winning side, Patches.”
She struck him with a rapid jab and he came back with a three-punch combo. Haruka kicked him into the table, slammed his head into the desk and ripped his mask right off. Ally #2 had taken setup behind the camera and focused on his face, the beauty replaced with sheer anger.
Kanade and Haken launched into the fray, claymore and katana, back to back. Gyver swiped with his claws and Fred fired his shotgun into the air, laughing. Shishigami struck Haruka with a haymaker and threw her into Sampson before turning heel and sprinting. His employees turned in shock, having been abandoned by their employee sprinting for the balcony. It was the only distraction the three fighters needed to finish the job and end Khenan and Rex. Shishigami jumped, through the glass, flipping over the railing…and onto thin air. He remained standing, hovering in place, his feet obviously below some sort of cloaked platform. There was a shudder, as the reflective optics of the Void Dragon’s stealth field adjusted, revealing the outline of a ship parked right in front of them all. By now, Kincaid had freed Axel and Natasha who confirmed Ray’s treachery.
“He’s getting away, guys!” Kanade yelled, pointing at Ray with her blade. Ally #2 looked to her counter-point, nodded and handed her the SRMD.
“I think it’s time we say goodbye.”
“It’s only temporary.”
“More like temporal.”
She hugged her partner before Ally #1 grabbed Haruka and began sprinting at the outline. Before Ray could escape, they both jumped from the railing and grabbed at the side of the ship’s wings. Yoshimitsu used the last of her strength to climb up and continue fighting Ray. She grabbed him from behind and suplexed him into the hard steel, strong enough to disrupt the stealth properties for a few seconds. Her knuckles pounded at his pretty face, aiming to black-and-blue those baby blues of his. He rolled her off, tossing her to the side and kicked her in the ribs, surely breaking one. Yoshimitsu kicked at his legs with her massive boots and wrapped her blooded fingers around his coat to slam him back down into the ground again. They wrestled atop the ship, rolling, punching, seeking the upper edge. The Void Dragon began moving, hoping to escape the crowd and Palace below, zipping through the streets. They tumbled to the back, to the engines, knocked apart. Yoshimitsu sprang up, grabbed him by the neck and dragged his face into the fire of the afterburners.
“I said I’d kill you and I meant it!”
He screamed as his face caught fire but elbowed Haruka to escape. He laid pulsating and panting, red and black, disfigured again. However, being burned did not stop him, just as it never had. He grabbed Yoshimitsu, punched her again and again and dragged her to the side of the ship.
“I think I’ll be the one to kill you, you bit-“
Ally appeared behind him, swinging her wrench and clubbing the Black Ops soldier right in the head. He stopped speaking, let go of Haruka and teetered right off as a blackened, burnt flailing trenchcoat, into a passing houses’ skylight. Ray was out of the picture.
“Now’s our chance, Yoshi,” Ally yelled over the roar of the engine. They were both too weak to remain standing, yet alone complete their goal. The two girls slumped together, each clutching the SRMD as close to the engines as possible.
“I think the stealth field, the engines and the displacer are enough!”
Ally dragged her bloodied fingers across the machine, pushing at the same buttons she had days ago, revving up the machine. Their warp storm opened right around the ship, sectioning off half the ship in a bright blue bubble that shimmered with Homeworld’s sunlight. Like the wind had cut itself, the rip opened, taking the two dying girls and half a spaceship HMV with them in a just a nanosecond blip.
The storm spun them round and round until they both blacked out, awakening on the cold, hard floor of a hangar. The clean walls and design of the ship led them to believe it was Regal but there was no way to tell.
The hangar filled with curious eyes. Familiar faces and original mercenaries helped them both up, eyeing the flaming piece of spaceship behind them.
“What happened?” Aerion asked, eyeing the ship with utmost confusion.
“A bad dream,” Haruka snatched the flask from his hands, chugged it down and stormed off. All eyes fell on Ally, sitting calmly in front of the fiery wreckage, waiting on an explanation.
Posted 03 March 2014 - 04:05 AM
I thought about doing something darker, but that can't wait until later.
Before It Began: Just Because We’re Soldiers…
Lab Ship Altar Revival
With no access to the computer terminals, Kayla looked tiredly at empty space. To think something more could be out there, something that did not involve HMVs or grey metallic walls. People got to be happy while her life sucked. How many others could say that they have not been outside or seen the change between night and day with their own eyes rather than through videos and recordings?
Why me and this life? She could only think to herself while trying to tune out Eyre’s voice, yet she still spoke above all other thoughts.
Don’t blame the lottery. You should just get used to who you are, you’ll be happier. One has a good idea, even if he's a complete and utter lapdog.
Instructions and training had temporarily ended for the time being. Relatively boring teachings that revolved around strategy and how to operate when cut-off from friendly lines that had been repeated more than once. And yet, despite that, they were not trusted. Access around the ship was limited to anything not involved in the care and training of the soldier of the twelve that made up the SS-P2 group.
“Eight,” a voice came. She turned to see SS-P2-01 or Merrick. He was only a boy in his late teens, yet for some reason he already had streaks of grey in his hair.and his eyes did not seem to have much behind them, yet somehow a smothering flame could be seen, almost dashed away but still there.
“What you’re doing isn’t healthy,” he then continued in what she considered a hallow voice.
“Not like anything fun is…” she grumbled turning back to the viewing port.
“We’ll get to see something other than holograms and pictures one day,” he then said, referring to their future. “You need to concentrate. Last thing any of us want are the instructors putting you forward for “lacking motivations.” You almost died that day. Even Two was worried.”
“It hasn’t happened since then. And Thomas,” she said, emphasizing on Two’s real name. “Is worried about everything, you're just too blind to see it." Her words seemed to have temporarily stung Merrick as he gave her a slightly annoyed, odd look.
Kayla then slumped back against the wall still looking out.
“Also, then what? I just get to watch all these worlds burn down when they decide to send us out?” she then said to him. “There's not much else we can do once they decide to hook us all up on those organs and implants the scientist rave on about. What's the point in living if you have no control over your own body?”
“They're just guiding and once they trust us enough we’ll be the one’s saving it. We just got to keep doing what they say. This galaxy will need people like us when you consider the Travesti and all the other terrible things out there. It was why we were born. Better us who don’t have family,” Merrick told her, almost in a solemn sort of way. “It’ll mean something in the end even if it takes a hundred deaths in the process.”
“We don't even know what they want us to fight. And it doesn’t change the fact I never wanted this,” Kayla replied, bitterly, before she heard one of the doors open.
They saw a a girl and a boy peak out before a soft gasp came from one of them before they ducked back in. The girl had blonde short blonde hair, blue eyes, and soft features with a headband around her head while the boy had the same colour of hair, but eyes of brownish-orange who looked relatively thin compared to the rest of them. SS-P2-09, Paula, and the other was SS-P2-02 Thomas.
“Kayla,” the girl than called out to them in a near whisper. “There aren’t any instructors or lab coats in our rooms, are there?”
“No, why?” Kayla replied with a questioning look as she stared at the doorway which they hid behind.
“Well, you know about raiding and stuff they talked about….”
Kayla stayed silent, but she had an idea of what the two had done. She looked over at Merrick; this was going to get exciting.
“What is the matter with you two?” he said with disdain. “Come out where I can see you or else.”
It took a couple of seconds for the two to decide to leave the safety of their doorway into plain view. In the arms of both of them were a couple of rations and even a few goodies which included sweets and ice cream. How they managed to get these, despite security, was beyond Kayla.
“Are you two trying to get us all in trouble? You know you shouldn’t steal what isn’t yours,” Merrick began. “We’re soldiers, not thieves. These people gave us life and you’d take what’s theirs without even asking? Do you want them to throw us out the airlock?” he then scolded
“Kayla's fine, and she killed an instructor,” Thomas muttered, gaze more focused on the food before he look up at Merrick. “Besides, I’m hungry and they barely feeds us enough despite giving them the “one-hundred and ten percent effort” that Causwell always wants.”
“Yeah, and we’re just putting what they taught us to use. I’m pretty sure Kayla would find it interesting if she joined us and she hates everything here,” Paula said in an optimistic fashion.
That’s an understatement, though I wouldn’t mind messing around, Kayla thought to herself.
Merrick’s gaze then transformed into that of an angered god with demonic eyes behind them.
“There will not be a next time not from my team!” he shouted which Kayla could have sworn rocked this area of the ship and caused a few of the items the two held to be dropped to the chagrin of the two. “You’re not going any further and once I’m finished with you two, I’ll get the instructors.”
“What a teacher’s pet…” Paula muttered to Thomas who gave a very weak laugh, knowing what they were in for.
Merrick rapidly approached Paula and Thomas with pace speeding up, ready to teach them some discipline through violence until Kayla swept him off his feet to his surprise.
“Go!” she said to the other two who nodded their heads and immediately began running for their quarters, all items in hands.
Merrick growled and attempted to get back onto his feet, but Kayla had the advantage and with a simple hit, as the instructors had taught them, he was out.
Kayla could only laugh a little. Sure it may have not been nice to do it, but anything to spite Merrick and his completely indoctrinated mind was a victory. However, she then groaned, realizing that now there was a body lying on the floor.
Picking up Merrick’s unconscious body, she slowly began to carry him back to their quarters. Maybe with the help of Thomas and Paula they’d find a way to keep him from ratting them out and with any luck, he may not remember what happened.
Edited by mirage, 17 March 2014 - 07:26 PM.
Rise and Conquer: Compiled
Check out my Youtube channel for occasional casts and voice clips.
Posted 10 April 2014 - 07:58 AM
Just some description on Zenphon and what he's up later on in the Rise timeline.
Ral Tageric Museum and Institution, Gaia, NEDA Space
For an Iradon that was almost halfway through his life, Zenphon could not complain how he had retired from the dangerous, yet simple ended life of mercenary work, even if it was a guise to hide his true intentions of learning the secrets and history of this galaxy. While he would never have a Qual as powerful as the King of Hi’terion, nor was he well-liked by certain races in the galaxy due to past events of slavery done by his species, it was honest work, something that was actually useful over wars of petty expansion or destruction in the Travesti’s case.
Glancing through the various files with his second set of arms organizing them in one of his many drawers, he found himself intrigued by some of the things that needed his approval or signature. Some were well-known figures who wanted to be students seeking work and even tutelage under him, others were from his own research teams that only needing a signature before they went off into the galaxy to discover its secrets and analyze what history told them.
The ticking coming from the wooden grandfather’s clock was so soothing. It allowed one to find a constant tempo which only Zenphon could truly appreciate where others may only find it annoying.
Aside from the clock, the office had a Spartan nature to it with very few, if any luxuries. Only the necessities to do his work were there and of course, by his side was his spear which was now more for show and for use as a walking stick. Outside from the window, everything was dark thanks to nightfall and everyone had gone home, but he needed very little sleep to function so as long as the room remained warm.
“Night comes and everyone would rather go home than continue either on their studies or research. I’ll never understand the joys others find in non-productive activities,” he muttered to himself. "Such is the luxury of living on Gaia where poverty barely exists. Makes people lax."
To think he had become a scholar that owned his own museum as well as having a Qual that saw him doing a great services to the galaxy. This was a long ways away from the mercenary work he had done, the training of warriors and a previous leader of Iradon war band. All because he felt that no one was filling in the gaps of galactic history, or that he felt that the histories of various species and worlds were far too biased and needed to be reexamined given the amount of nationalism and patriotism that came after the Reclamation War.
If Zenphon could smile he would have. So much progress was being made and so much ignorance was being removed from the minds of what may possibly the future great minds in the next few years.
Thinking of future pupils who may excel, however, made him wonder what happened to the last pupil he trained in the ways of combat, Raikegi, or Ambitious One, as he still liked to call him. The man, now likely past his prime, was probably still trying to become as powerful as Achilles. That fire in his eyes was something that could not be extinguished by simply growing older.
So as long as the man learned to become adaptive in all methods of war and cunning enough to make use of what he had, he would have done his job as a tutor. Ambitious One, when Zenphon had first set his eyes on him, was nothing more than a block of metal that had little use which needed to be forged into a proper weapon that could also think for itself.
Achilles had seen much to that by making the man stronger, faster, and more powerful while giving him the grand strategies necessary to win. On the opposite spectrum Zenphon had provided more subtle touches. Discipline, a larger, more open-mind, self-reliance, and insight of how one’s opponent may act or think and how to unbalance them. And through their combined efforts the weak warrior broke his shackles grew.
Now, he only hoped that the warrior did not throw all care of his Qual away. Be them tools or friends, they were useful and something that could change the tide of a battle in his favor so that he may deliver the final blow on his way to victory. Whatever he did with them after was none of Zenphon’s concern. If a tool needed to be discarded it was discarded, if one wanted reliability and something more he made friends.
“Ambitious One, if I ever see you again, I hope you would be a true warrior that I can claim some of the honor of having made. If not, my knowledge was for naught. Do not make me think that you can be something that is simply replaceable. A real warrior is one who has perfected himself and is invaluable and irreplaceable. Should he succeed his legacy will live for centuries, if not, he simply fades into the past where none may find them.”
His attention then focused back on his work. The file he held was talk about organizing a team to visit Imperial Remnants territory and see how they have developed and progressed. A dangerous task, but the fruits of their labor will be worth it. If he could spare time, he would also go as well. It had been a long time since he had travelled back into Central Mjolnir and maybe some fool would give him the excuse to exercise his combat prowess. The colour of the blade may be dull, but the tip was still sharpened.
“A supposedly enlightened era, yet it is an Iradon of the upper echelons who seems to be at the forefront. An outcast of a race of slavers who believes knowledge is more important than ones strength and power of their Qual. Truly I am that random mutant who appears every once in an awhile,” Zenphon said to himself as he made edits to the form he had. Time for another adventure within this galaxy.
Rise and Conquer: Compiled
Check out my Youtube channel for occasional casts and voice clips.
Posted 06 October 2014 - 05:21 PM
His paws reached for the cloth around his neck and slowly he undid the wrappings around his face. The face was marked with distinct (and crudely healed) claw strikes that wound themselves deep and far around his Leprede head. Part of his ear had either been blown off or chewed off and constantly twitched against the hazy lighting of the desert dwelling. Sunlight streamed in through only one skylight, allowing the other members of the room to remain in the dark.
He placed a satchel on the table which leaked a sickening amount of blood from all its pockets. Strands of hair and bits of flesh were visible between the pouches and reeked in the desert heat.
"These are the last pieces of your foes."
A gloved hand picked up the weighted bag and sloshed it back and forth. The chunked remains of a human head caught the sunlight for a brief second, staring vacantly up to the sky.
"The payment has been halved for obvious reasons."
"I brought you what you asked for," Redclaw retorted, dropping his wrappings to the ground, "I laid waste to an entire camp of marauders. I tore their corpses out of their HMVs and flayed them with my own claws. I chewed the throat of the survivors."
"Spare us these details."
"No. You sent me to do your bidding because you are weak. Look upon death and see what I bring. You do not fight. You shy away from what counts in this universe."
"I recommend you alter your tone when speaking to us."
"Why? Will you hire a second mercenary to come after me? Or will you stand up and fight for once?"
There was the sound of chairs scooting back as men stood up but Redclaw was faster than all the men around him. He had already swung and sliced the desk in half then kicked the two pieces into separate directions. He reached for his holstered gun in a quick draw and fanned the hammer, blowing apart the shadowy dealers in front of him. Jäger let the blood splash all over him, so bright in the beam of light. He turned to one of the men across the desk and harpooned him through the throat with his claws, unwavering in mercy. The Leprede dragged the choking, gasping man down onto the table's remains and repeatedly slashed at his face, over and over until the man stopped moving.
Redclaw reached for the pocket of the leader, now dead beneath a portion of table. He searched through his pockets, looting anything loose. He took the briefcase, heavy with excess credits and wrapped it up in the bloodied scarf. Jäger took one last look around at the garbage of a dwelling, masked in darkness, and began walking towards the door. However, the distant chime of a ringing datapad brought him back. Was it backup? Would he have to kill more men for fun?
He scooped up the well-lit device from one of the slumped men in the corner and toyed with it for a second. Fancy machines were not his forte; he was keen on pure physical action and nothing else. The universe had given a second chance and now he would take his anger out on it.
The screen lit up after a few touches and flashed a mugshot of a masked man in a fedora. A bounty with nothing special to it...
....excluding the unheard bounty of ten billion credits. No doubt every single bounty hunter would be hunting for this 'Shishigami' fellow. The same fellow from Boss Okaasan's childish story-telling. The Empire could not spare ten billion credits on one man; this was personal. Personal enough to warrant nothing alive and only valued in death. Ten billion credits was more than a lifetime of glory, but Redclaw didn't even need the money. The hunt would be his challenge and his reward. He would find Ray Shishigami and kill him in the most brutal way his benefactor could only dream of.
Jäger crushed the datapad and stormed out the door, fast as his paws could take him, towards the unknown.
Posted 26 October 2014 - 10:44 PM
128AF, Circle of Mars Research Lab TT-11-BPZ
There were a few shrieks from the experiments guarding the door. They were creatures of metal and flesh that looked similar to what one would become should Xenococcus Cerebrax. Savage and powerful, but they were not match for his Messengers, his most trusted personal agents.
“Brothers and sisters, secure this area. Return to me once it is done,” the Voice ordered, his hand gesturing for his guards to carry out their task.
Each of his Messengers gave a slight bow before he stepped into one of many labs of horror.
The Voice's focus did not shift from his target, but around him were dozens of strange beings locked in large test-tubes, surrounded by fluids of all sorts of colours. Some screamed at their torture, slamming against their prison to no avail as their flesh began to alter. Some even bursted into blood and organs, but were replaced by new forms that continued their scream of despair and rage.
The Voice stood over the mutilated scientist Vertwa, or that was the name the name he went by in an old life. The poor creature was a Mootai unable to change forms, having experimented far too much on itself that even its versatile genetic and physiological structure could refused to obey.
Vertwa's true form would be a little terrifying to your average civilian. Rather than the smoky wisp of a Mootai's true form, he saw a constant shift of sickly dark colors emitting. The smoke contorted, expanded and contracted rapidly giving it the appearance of an ever-shifting form.
“Wha...you....my lab....Guards.... How did get past the Grid?” Vertwa hissed, its form trying to expand. “You've come to kill...Steal....Pathetic Vermin.”
“No need for that,” the Voice simply replied as he approached the growing, shifting mound.
At that point, the creature lunged forth at the Voice with speed and force that belied his twisted form, but with a single gesture, Vertwa froze into place and solidified, his body no longer convulsing or shifting and no longer did it give away smoke.
“Not, human...” were Vertwa's words before silence over took him.
Moving past the creature's frozen form, the Voice looked at a device sitting en-capsuled within a stasis chamber. With the push of a button, jets of air came out of the machine with the device slowly lowering. As the case opened, the Voice grabbed the device and examined it.
“Such a bothersome thing capable of great destruction, yet it is no larger than a child's play-thing. Truly you have outdone yourselves.”
A servant then arose behind the Voice, their robes concealing their form while a metallic mask hid their facial features. More entered showing that they had completed their task.
“Master, perimeter secure,” a female voice spoke to the Voice who gave a slight nod. “We are ready for the next phase.”
He then looked to the frozen form of Verttwa before his fingers grazed over the creature. His hand gently curled up into a fist and squeezed a small device on his palm.
Slowly, Verttwa began to crumble into nothing more than dust as the Voice walked away with his servants.
“Let us begin the next phase of this galaxy. Inform Mr. Vash he may proceed,” the Voice spoke as his retinue departed.
Edited by mirage, 26 October 2014 - 10:48 PM.
Rise and Conquer: Compiled
Check out my Youtube channel for occasional casts and voice clips.
Posted 08 November 2014 - 01:23 AM
Rise and Conquer: Compiled
Check out my Youtube channel for occasional casts and voice clips.
Posted 22 November 2014 - 12:12 PM
"I Fixed It" - Non-Canon
Jhareed adjusted his blue tunic as he leaned against the door. It had been years since he had set foot in this base. And, supposedly, it will still have been years after he leaves. That's how time travel works, isn't it? That's how he was told it did. It didn't matter. A deity without omniscience isn't much of a deity at all. But, perhaps the Forefather that Jhareed had become didn't need that. He just wanted to say goodbye to everything one last time. Slowly, he took a deep breath, turned around, and opened the door to his old room.
"I knew you'd fix it." Said the childlike voice of Jhareed's former self. The Dark Elf didn't turn his head towards the Forefather. Instead, he stood perched on the same windowsill that even now Jhareed remembered fondly. The charcoal black ground of Jawhen's surface didn't reflect any light back at his face. Slowly, Jhareed walked closer, and his former self just kept looked out. He pulled his knees closer, allowing Jhareed the spot where he had so often sat in the past.
"You always said you'd fix everything," Jhareed said softly. Jhareed's golden eyes were staring at the black veins on the Dark Elf's neck. He shook his head. It was not a happy time for him. "Did you know that I was coming?" Jhareed asked.
His former self nodded. "I don't want to know everything. But I do."
"You thought you did."
"I hate it then."
Jhareed nodded in understanding. "Did you ever think of what would happen if you truly knew everything? Do you understand what burden that would be like?" Jhareed's gaze followed that of his former self, overlooking the charred landscape. "...Do you think you could handle it?"
"I hate it."
The Forefather sighed once more. He didn't know how to talk to himself. And yet, for so long in his life, he only had himself to talk to. It was strange for him. He took in a deep breath and blew on the window so that it fogged up. Then, he used his finger and made two dots next to each other, and a concaved line beneath them. He circled the smiley face and turned back to the Jawhen, who's gaze had turned to follow Jhareed's finger. Jhareed smiled at his former self, who did not react. After staring in silence for awhile the fog on the window cleared, erasing the image, and the Dark Elf quickly pulled his head back to look outside the window. Jhareed pinched his nose as he tried to think of something else to say.
"You don't need to say anything." Jhareed looked back up, but his fellow's gaze was still outside. Jhareed listened intently. "Did you ever learn what was real?"
"All of it."
The Dark Elf nodded at his own reflection. "I expected that. And of the monster?"
"I killed him."
"I did fix everything, didn't I?"
A toothy grin widened on the Dark Elf's face. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for everything." He turned to face his future self again, a look of appreciation and admiration. "Can I ask you for something then?" As Jhareed nodded, the Jawhen pointed towards the Forefather's knife. Jhareed offered it, and watched the image of himself look at his own reflection within it. His grin didn't fade, and Jhareed's gaze was one of confusion and concern. Then, Jhareed understood. He always understood. He was sure that, at this time in his life, his other self was tired of understanding, and figured out how it all was supposed to work. Jhareed stood up and began to walk away.
Jhareed closed the door behind him, somehow at peace with himself. His hand didn't pull away from the doorknob though. He braced himself, and then he heard a short, sharp cry, and then the sick thud of a body hitting the ground. Jhareed let go of the doorknob finally, and snapped his fingers. The door locked. Then, the Forefather turned around at the door, and waved his hand.
He saw what he wanted.
- Ryoma likes this
Posted 22 December 2014 - 09:32 AM
This was originally planned as my epilogue to Aerion's Elven Diplomacy RP, but when that fell through, I decided to type it out for the hell of it, since it contains a heckoffalotta plot threads. Enjoy.
September 27, 120 AF
Four years after the Second Jawhen War
Skarian Sector, The Labyrinth [Location Classified]
Private Laboratory of Doctor Cygan Tavoss
A slim figure sat attentively at his workchair, staring as if mesmerized at a dark screen. Markings of strange data flowed across the panel, their measurements and readings esoteric and mystical. Surrounding the dark figure were several other holographic display, though these were without image, merely displaying a simple [SOUND ONLY] message on their faces.
'Yes. Hush, only watch.'
The readings continued their scrawl, though once or twice, spiked in rapid succession. The figure in the chair, a Doctor Tavoss, narrowed his eyes, mechanical fingers cupping over his mouth as his eyes took in the information. The amount that was coming through would be an overload for any ordinary human mind. But Tavoss was Jawhen. And far from ordinary.
'Readings as usual, slight underperformance. Expected, but not optimal...'
[Psychic wavelength appears to be ascending.]
'Mm. But given current events, to be expected. Now shh.'
Suddenly, a spike. Rising higher and higher. The machinery struggled to keep up, and the Jawhen watched, his hands trembling.
[Pantheaic Fault resonating.]
'Intensifying. Levels stable.'
[Don't you dare die on me.]
A final, intense spike, and every reading on the screen spiraled. Holographic glyphs materialized around the doctor, who punched them in rapid succession. His eyes flew back and forth from the screen, superhuman concentration stretching to it's limit. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow.
'I think he's done it.'
[We have Ascension!]
[Fenric is making contact with Cordyceptic aetherform. Connecting. Connecting...]
Another moment passed, pregnant with anticipation. But then the lights fades, readings falling, falling. In mere moments, all was back to normal.
[Damnation! Doctor, what is going on down there?]
'It appears Fenric has... rejected Ascension.'
[Rejected? Was he not compatible?]
'Oh no, he was quite compatible. I approved him myself. But it appears Ascension was not his desired outcome. Fenric is lost to us.'
Another moment of silence, as all the observers in the room contemplated what they had just witnessed. Tavoss taped the mechanical fingers of his right hand in rhythm, his left propping his chin up, as he considered the future.
[Was it all... for nothing then? Years wasted? Damn that fool boy!]
'Calm yourself, Grandmaster. True, his final decision was disappointing, but in the end, he proved Ascension from Thirdspace is indeed possible. All it needs is a certain character.'
[We cannot wait forever. Fury gestates with every passing day. Combating a fully realized Great Old One is beyond even our current measures.]
Tavoss leaned back in his chair, clasping his fingers. A smile slowly formed on his lips.
'It's not a complete failure. Fenric- Jhareed, was an excellent Control. But I believe it's past time we began on the Variants.'
[We will be cutting it close.]
'Science cannot be rushed, Doctor. I will proceed with Phase v.2 of Fenric. You do your part, I do mine.'
[Easier said than done. Even with Hydra out of the picture...]
[Indeed. You've all heard of the Forgotten, then?]
'Ah yes. The miraculous return of The Voice from death's door. How many years has it been now?'
[Irrelevant. It means they're moving faster than we anticipated. We've calculated eight years at most. Eight years until their catspaws are moved into position. Who knows who else they have? The Forgotten already dance to their tune. It's likely the remnants of McConnelley's group may fall under their sway, as will the other Hydra cults. And-]
'Don't say it. I know.'
[Then you know how pressed we are.]
'Nevertheless. The time of Erachin and his kind is finished. We can no longer simply charge into the unknown and shoot undesirables with prejudice. What this calls for, gentlemen, is the guiding hand of science. We will triumph, brothers. We must.'
[And what of Shishigami and his fool errand?]
'I do not believe Agent Raymond will play too rogue a piece. Besides, while the Butterfly of chaos flutters, we have but to manipulate it's effects to our favor.'
'Butterflies, Grandmaster. Always the Butterfly to consider, with this sort of thing.'
The screens stayed silent, and Tavoss smiled.
[As you wish.]
[Are we finished here, then?]
[I do believe so.]
[Very well. Black is the Hand of the man...]
'-Who does what Angels will not.' Finished the Doctor.
One by one, the screens winked out, leaving the Jawhen scientist alone once more.
August 15, 128 AF
Five months after the destruction of Susanoo, Kagutsuchi, and Okuninushi.
United Alliance of Free Mjolnians, Ingrid III
Announcer: We're live in three, two, boom.
A: Aaaand welcome to Mornings with Panticius, with your host, Panticius!
P: Hello, hello, hello! And good morning to you fine folk as well, it's great to be here today.
P: Now, for our first guest this morning. Some call him the most eligible bachelor in the Galaxy. His company is the most trusted brand in public households, bar none. Now, making his first public appearance in a year, put your hands together foooor the CEO of the Prospero Foundation, Jacob Locke!
P: Good morning Mr. Locke, how are you?
J: Please, Panti, we've known each other long enough. Just Jake'll be fine. And it's been real fine, thank you! Arrived offworld just this mornin', had myself some good ol'' fashioned Ingridian grub. I'm pumped, I'm ready.
P: Ha ha, alright 'Jake'. Now, let's talk about your latest development. I'm sure everyone in this room wants to here about last week's big announcement...
J: Heh, yeah. Prospero's new Armarments division, right? ProsperA, my own l'il brainchild.
P: I'm sure you've heard this question over a hundred times by now, but let's let everyone know: Why is Prospero, the largest civilian Hypercorp in the Galaxy, going into weapons research?
J: Well, I mean, come on. Ain't it obvious? Not to bring up a delicate situation, but I'm sure by now everyone's heard of the war. It's right over there on the horizon, whether you like it or not. Ain't no use denying it here. When the Dommies come, they'll come down on us hard. And I'm thinkin' it's time for the people of this great Galaxy to protect what's theirs, with arms that they can trust.
P: Won't this put you into direct competition with some of the big-name makers, like, say, Hayakawa Tech?
J: Hayakawa? Well, I mean, yeah. I guess you could say that's why I did it.
P: Right, right.
J: Now, all due respect to Missus Miko, but I intend to give people fine people weapons they can trust. Not hellfire that'll salt God's good earth and be renderin' it inhospitable for who knows how long. These days, push a button, boom! Death's right there at your shoulders. It's simply too much power, with too little control.
P: And you would be referring to Hayakawa's trademark warheads, of course.
J: If you wanna see what those things can do, just look to Kitsune, Panti. Hell, look closer. Canaan's missin' it's moon, and Brimstone got sucked into Gawd knows where. If we continue goin' on like it is, sooner or later, won't matter who's gonna win this war. There'll be nothin' left. Now, I ain't holdin' Miko responsible for what happened to the Dommies, but when you try bottlin' up all'a hell in a rocket sooner or later someone's gonna wanna have a go.
P: Thank you, Jake. Mission statement aside, what can we expect from ProsperA?
J: What do you think? Weapons, a'course!
J: But seriously. My boys down in research are testing out the latest, most cutting edge tech you'd ever be able to find. We've even got experimental ballistics down there that'll be able to keep up with the punch of any top model laser or plasma on th' market right now, so you gun-toters have nothin' to worry about, y'hear? Ossyrian's promise!
J: And of course, the humble HMV. Years ago, one humble man named Decel Erachin took it upon himself to revolutionize modern warfare, and I intend to continue Decel's dream! Our current designs have stuff you can't even dream of.
J: When these babies get on market, th' boys wager these peashooters'll be able to go toe-to-toe with anything the Dommies throw at us.
[Audience: Applause, cheering]
J: Not t' neglect our brothers on wheels either, a'course. Ah, the humble tank. These babies have been around with us as long as any 'a us can remember. These days, most'a us have left those poor l'il things neglected an' gatherin' dust away in the garage. Well, no more! ProsperA'll be cooperating with some oldtimers from Kahada and th' North to roll out som'a the biggest, most powerful war-machines this side'a the galaxy. When we're done, you'll have boomers that'll match any current HMV in firepower and armor, at a quarter of the cost!
[Audience: Applause, cheering]
P: Those certainly sound great, Jake!
J: Well, ah' do hope so. Like all th' ol' gen folk from Ossyria, we know happiness comes inna form of a good piece in your hand, and a cold one in the other.
P: Yes, now, I don't mean to pry... But I'm sure everyone here already knows. Tell us, Jake. What exactly is a XAO?
J: Heh heh, guess 'ah just can't keep a secret, eh? Well, we're still in th' experimental stages right at this moment, but you can be rest assured, a few years down the line, ProsperA's new babies will revolutionize warfare, like ol' Decel did in his time.
P: Certainly big promises.
J: I'm a man of my word, just a good 'ol boy from Ossie.
P: You've certainly put your money where your mouth is. Well then, I'm afraid that's all the time we have right now. Thank you, Jake, for being with us this morning.
J: It was a pleasure, Panti.
[Cut to commercial]
February 9, 129 AF
United Federation of the Southern Rim, Termina
City of Signal
Description of her life, really.
She'd lost count of how long she'd been on the run by now. These days, it was becoming harder and harder to find anywhere where she could really stop to catch her breath, to simply look at the time. Ever since she'd run into Locke's goons on Canaan, they'd been chasing her throughout the entire southern rim. And now the noose was tight. Hiding was pointless now. All she could do was delay the inevitable.
And she was out of time.
She turned down what she thought was an alleyway, only to be met with concrete. Dead end. Desperately, she looked for a way out. Feddie architecture was spartan, to say the least. Grey walls surrounded her, windows to high up to reach. A lonely trash can lay on it's side, picked cleaned by vermin. She threw back her hoodie in frustration. The only way out was where she came-
'Nowhere to go now, mademoiselle.'
She slowly backed down the corridor, keeping her face in he direction of the entryway. Her gun and knife were out, combat ready. She'd managed to put some hours at the range, so at least she was a moderately okay-ish shot, but still a far cry from the likes of, well, pretty much anyone she'd ran into these days.
The thing that came around the corner nearly made her throw up. Should be used to this merde by now, she told herself. It wasn't helping. A morbidly obese monstrosity, slowly walking towards her on two undersized legs. The thing had no real form or head to speak of, merely a large, slobbering gash where it's chest should be, opening from the neck to the groin. A hundred curling tusks decorated it's gums, and several thick tongues licked at it's lips, dripping slobber down onto the ground. Its hands were raised, a single, disturbingly human, translucent eyeball set in each palm, both of them focusing solely on her.
'Micheal.' She said, as bravely as she could. 'New look? Suits you.'
'Ah, you do me great praise, mademoiselle.' Said the thing, it's voice calm and collected, it's human tone at odds with it's sickening appearance. 'And you haven't aged at all.'
It was true. She was nearly in her middle sixties now, last time she checked, and barely looked a day over twenty. The process had been too gradual for her to really worry about, but even she knew it probably wasn't because of her healthy lifestyle.
'And I suppose I have you guys to thank for that?' She replied, gritting her teeth.
'You flatter me, madam. But no. A natural side effect of your link with your prototype.'
'Thought as much.' Her back hit the wall. Her heart was beating at twice it's usual speed. Her eyes darted, desperately looking for something. Anything. Her last hope was to see Flotsam come bounding down the alley, once again to her rescue. But she knew it was a fool's hope. The ambush at the port had separated them, and this time they'd brought in a heavy hitter to ensure they remained separated. Flotsam's voice was distant, nothing but the fading glow of anger and pain at the back of her mind.
'Took you long enough to find me.' She growled, one last spit of defiance.
'Come now, mademoiselle. Did you really think Father let you run about as you please. We've known where you've been, where you've all been, ever since your escape. Your experiences have proven most valuable to us.'
'Then why come for us now?'
'Because Father has declared it time for all the wayward children to come home. You can feel it too, can you not? On the very edge of your dreams. The time is upon us. So close. So soon.'
Micheal's tongues shot out, slamming into her and sending her sprawling. Agonizing pain shot through her. She coughed, blood spewing onto the dirt. Rib. Definitely rib. Her knife lay but a feet feet in front of her, just out of reach.
'Father has instructed us to bring you home. He never said you had to be unharmed.'
Lillian tried to speak, but pain shot through her again. She could feel the monster coming closer, heavy footsteps crushing the dust beneath it's feet.
'One wonders what happened to the other. The one you were so close with.' Micheal taunted, mocking laughter emanating from his oversized jaws. 'To be so old, but trapped in flesh so young and brittle. No company save for that of a madman...'
'I'll...' She gasped. 'I'll find her.'
'Please, mademoiselle. You will never know.'
'Am I interrupting anything?'
The new voice came from the entryway. Micheal whirled around in surprise, sloppy drool dripping from his tongues. The newcomer was dressed simply, dark traveler's robes, a hood pulled over his face and a simple silver scarf around his neck. His arms were folded behind his back, his feet together in a stance of patience.
'Oooh.' Crooned Micheal. 'Such a shame. It seems I shall have to bloody my hands after all.'
'Get out of here, dumbass!' Lilian managed to croak.
'Is that anyway to treat a lady, good sir?' Said the man. Micheal began to look (As far as he could, anyway) uncertain. This wasn't usual behaviors for passerbys. He'd expected a runner, and this idiot was running his mouth. Lillian tried to place the man's voice. She swore she'd heard the accent before, but the guy's voice was thick and rough.
'Thinking of causing trouble, old man?' Hissed Micheal, his tongues whipping into a frenzy. He studied the newcomer, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. The man didn't even look armed.
'Oh, horror, I practically wrote the book.' With a quick hand, the man whipped the scarf from his neck, revealing a thick, ugly scar. He whirled the scarf in a circular pattern, holding it out in front of him.
'Well, are you going to wait around all day, or shall I come to you?'
Micheal screamed, lashing out with his tongues. The scarf whirled.
Slash, slash, slash.
The tips of Micheal's tongues fell to the floor, writhing. Micheal fell back, screeching in agony. Black blood now mixed with saliva. And the man never moved. In his hands now was not a scarf, but a sword, shining and silver, but of no design Lillian eve recognized, human or otherwise. The blade was segmented, etched with strange, alien glyths. And instead of a tip, the blade separated into seven parts at the head, the pattern of a star.
The man pulled his hood back, revealing grizzled, worn features, and a cropped beard and short hair, white as snow. His eyes never left the creature standing before him, and now he pointed his blade directly at the wounded thing.
'Im...Impossible!' Micheal managed to croak out. The monster had collapsed, desperately trying to pull it's bulk up with it's legs.'You can't be here! The Lucifuge slew you! You're dead!'
'Well.' Replied the old man glibly. ' How did that saying go again? That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die.'
This time he cracked a grin. 'One of yours, I believe.'
The tip of the man's sword began to glow. Micheal screamed again, this one of agony.
'I banish your black essence to the blackest pit of the Court.' Chanted the man. The sword grew brighter. 'I curse you in the name of the Gate and Key! This world is barred to you for ten thousand years! Vernut'sya v ad , otkuda vy prishli! Von!'
There was a flash so blinding Lillian had to look away. And when she looked back, Micheal was gone. All that was left was a slightly darkish spot, and the stench of ozone.
'W-what' She stammered, and winced again at the pain in her side. The old man walked closer, the sword gone again, returned as a silver scarf around his neck. 'The hell did you do, old man?'
'Well, so much for gratefulness.' He replied, though he was grinning and chuckling. 'You'll make it.'
'Tell that to my spleen.' Groaned Lillian. She rolled onto her back, eyes to the sky.
'You can't run forever, you know.' Said the old man. 'They're already close to finding all the rest. Soon they'll have them.'
'...Can't... Let 'em.' Wheezed Lillian. It was becoming hard to stay awake now. It was becoming dark. 'Promised... Banshee.'
'A noble oath, but you cannot fight them alone. There's a war coming, one that will make this petty conflict with the Travesti look pale in comparison. A war for the very souls for the Galaxy. I am looking for warriors to fight alongside me in this war.'
The old man knelt down, staring Lillian directly in the eyes.
'Warriors like you, Lillian Arcenciel.'
'The hell...' She gasped out. The last of her strength was ebbing away quickly. Sleepy. So sleepy. The old man had a hand behind her head now, easing her pain. 'The hell... did you know... Who... are you?'
The old man nodded sagely.
'I've gone through a few in my time,' He said. She barely heard the last words as she drifted away into unconsciousness.
'But to those I call friend, I am Karl. Karl Vladick.'
Edited by Rickard the Bearded, 22 December 2014 - 09:36 AM.
'Something something, navel-gazing quote from prolific author and/or philosopher'
Posted 02 February 2015 - 08:58 PM
Rise and Conquer: Compiled
Check out my Youtube channel for occasional casts and voice clips.
Posted 27 November 2016 - 03:08 PM
Same here. O_o
And I've had a really big Rise moment lately reading back through the first RPs. That update really got posted stealthily...
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