Avatar of Isotope
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    1. Isotope 11 yrs ago

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Recent Statuses

6 yrs ago
Current That sucks, I'll make my own doom. With hookers! And blackjack!
2 likes
6 yrs ago
Isn't it funny how people say isn't it funny?
3 likes
6 yrs ago
Nobody deserves to be... Used... Like that!
2 likes
6 yrs ago
How shallow, oh, my, God.
2 likes
6 yrs ago
It's my birthday
9 likes

Bio


MST.

Most Recent Posts

Silverwick


It had been a full two days since Meera and her unexpected companion Agatho D’Amero had met on the road, and now their mutual destination dominated the horizon. They’d known they drew close when the wind began to carry ash and the foliage started to wither, but seeing the ruins of Silverwick, even as a silhouette against the sky, was something else entirely. The site of old Illya’s capital and the legionnaire’s most lasting triumph was a ruin suspended in time.

On some level Meera doubted Akat, the presence who’d been nothing but helpful to her, was really one of the fabled legionnaires. Seeing this, having been directed to it, did less to reinforce than dispel that doubt. The destruction, even at this distance, was something to behold. Akat had warned Meera that she had become excessive in her quest to force the world to come to terms with its nature, that in looking to change things for the better she had gone too far.

This, Meera reflected, was too far. Akat made no comment, but Meera knew that the criticism of her work grated the disembodied legionnaire on level. She turned to regard her newfound ally, and remarked, “It is… Grander than I had expected.”

Gabriel took a moment to turn to Meera. “I have spent almost 20 years fighting all over the Free Cities, but I can’t think of anything that matches the devastation we’re seeing here.” He swallowed. “And if we are to do this right, I think we might come to a point in which we will have to repeat or surpass this.” He finished, gesturing to the wasteland around them.

Meera considered his words, and shook her head slowly, “This is no victory Agatho. This is why they failed. I am no stranger to murder, I have accepted that slaughter may become necessary on this road we have embarked on, but this is nothing but senseless destruction. Akat has admitted, though perhaps begrudgingly, that it was wanton aggression from others and herself that doomed the legionnaires. This is that aggression. I cannot imagine how, with all the power in the world, our patrons failed to find any solution more elegant than this.”

“That Akat is willing to accept that some of her past actions might have been misguided pleases us greatly.” He smiled at her. “But one of the things I learned in these years of selling my sword, it was that more often than not battles simply get out of control and expand beyond our plans. In the end all we can do is adapt to the circumstances.” He paused, lifting his head skywards. “Don’t misunderstand me, I would rather never have to repeat what was done here anywhere else in the world. Our goal is not simply to destroy, we all have the power to create a better world from the ashes of Avalon.” He exhaled slowly as he looked at her. “But if anything else, we must be mindful of the kind of company we will have once we reunite with the other Legionnaires and their Chosen. I assume Akat has filled you in about their past behavior?”

“She has,” Meera paused, “As have the documents I’ve studied. Forgive me if I offend, but when an ancient evil speaks in your head, no matter how inclined you are to trust it, it is prudent to educate yourself on what sort of evil it is. I knew of Akats deeds before she felt cause to reveal them to me in their fullness, and I know of what the others we are to meet have done. The old books are perhaps hyperbolic in portraying the legionnaires are inhuman, but Akat may be too accustom to them to see what are in totality. She seems to think your patron is trustworthy Agatho, and from what I know that may be true. I do not presume anything of the others.”

Something threatened to break through Gabriel’s placid facade, but whatever emotion it was, it got quickly shoved down. “I wasn’t in position to look for old scrolls and ancient tomes when the Prince revealed himself to me. At the time I followed him because I had no other choice.” He paused, considering his next words. “By the time my situation settled down, I had no reason to think the Prince wished harm unto me. And since the sparse lore about the Legionnaires I managed to get my hands on, supported his words, I never found much reason to doubt what he told me over the years.” He paused to sip from his water skin. “Though I must thank you for your vote of confidence. The Prince used to count Akat among his closest partners within the Legion...before she allowed herself to be blinded. That she is now willing to admit to her past mistakes and that you talk of self-control, does makes us believe that this time we can continue to work together towards greater and worthier goals.”

“Then Akat and I are both glad to count you as an ally.” Meera had been smiling as she spoke, but as they began to enter the ruins proper the expression died. She looked around cautiously before she spoke again, “With that in mind, we should be wary. The others will be near now, and though it seems we both have learned the value of patience and manners I would prefer to judge our fellows on that after we meet them.”

Gabriel stood silent for a few moments, drifting away before the great bird swooped down and settled on his shoulder. “‘Sandra counts at least three among the ruins. But we will never know for sure until we meet them, won’t we?”
@Drunken Conquistador@MegaOscarPwn
We ever doing that thing?
I mean sure, but at least you could have tried to be melodramatic about it. Read the room! :P
@Goldeagle1221Typical, just what I'd expect from a bird.
As a man of my word, I have arranged a fistfight with Byrd Man in PMs. Will update shortly.

EDIT: Byrd Man kicked my ass


Precipricks drink lots of milk, with bones that strong you never had a chance.

On another note yeah, we need to enforce the fucking labels. There's no point in having multiple sections if everyone huddles up in casual like a gaggle of craven penguins.
Hit me up when you do it
Otice, Seat of the Lord of Brestvid


“Oh do play it again!” Domen cried in elation from his place of pride upon the rooms tawdry throne. The lord of Brestvid had, for the fifth time this month, filled his great hall with entertainers of every conceivable profession. At the moment he was encouraging a notably awful harpist, much to the dismay of his court. Domen’s taste in all things was garish, but no appetite for luxury or prestige could account for the lords musical preferences, which could best be described as the screeching of harpies and snapping of strings. His long suffering heir Henrik, a man of twenty three, had adopted the placid expression of one so accustom to eccentricity that even the most egregious and unsettling displays failed to impress any longer.

As the harpist, a blond woman with a broad smile far more pleasing than her work, finished her ‘song’ it was Henrik who spoke, “A fine display, thank you. Father, now that the last act has acquitted themselves as well as any who preforms for you justly should I feel the time has come to address the concerns of the day. Do you not agree?”

Domen nodded, but made a laughably poor show of concealing his displeasure. With a very nearly pitiable forgery of a smile he replied, “Of course, of course. We shall reward the performers and send them on their way. I call upon the court, let us hear what maladies plague our little slice of the realm today. What urgent happenings demand my precious attention and so on.”

If the exhaustion of having to run his fathers demesne and still tolerate the man showed on Henrik’s face there was not a soul that would attest to it. The performers filed out of the hall in an orderly manner and as the various couriers and advisors of the land took their place Domen leaned back in his bejewelled abomination, looking to be wholly exhausted before the work of the day had even begun.

With an indolent gesture from his lord the first of the days couriers stepped up, “My lord Domen Furlan, I bring news from the east. Lord Lovro Kolar is dead, having passed away in his sleep. Without a son his eldest daughter Jelena Kolar has assumed his place as the great lord of Senja. She sends her regards and inquires if it is your desire to send a delegation to her fathers departure ceremony in two weeks time.”

Domen had perked up when he heard that Lovro Kolar was dead, but after that the plump man returned to his lazy repose. With a grunt from his father as his cue Henrik replied somberly, “We are deeply saddened by this news. Let the new mistress of Senja know that we will do as she suggests and assemble a delegation to attend the departure ceremony of her father and our friend.”

Henrik paused for a moment, the beginnings of a wicked smile breaking through his affected melancholy, “In fact, inform the mistress that I will personally attend. Senja has always been a friend to us.”

The courier bowed deeply and departed, but as the next courtier approached Domen eyed his son cautiously. That, the old man reflected, was not something he’d have expected. Domen and Henrik disagreed on most everything these days, but neither of them had possessed anything but the dimmest opinion of Lovro. If his son thought Domen an oaf, then Henrik's opinion of the deceased Lord Lovro Kolar, to whom he owed no familial affection, would have been far too crass to put into words.

His son was up to something, of that were was little doubt.

Yayyyyy you're effectively in my time zone.

:p

Also @Drunken Conquistador I figure we'll just say we arrived together in any future posts and collabs. I don't think we need to rp actually arriving.

On that note, are we waiting for a 'hey you're here' @Sierra? Is there an event to take place once all are assembled?
@WhoamiBTW dood, really liking your posts and character. Looking forward to seeing more of them!
@WhoamiHah.

What kind of person would do that.

<.<
>.>

(but srs tho I've become too invested in this too haha)
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