LimeyPanda

The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

Daniel Anders

---

There was a satisfaction to a successful hit, and although the blow was not a fatal one, it felt daaaaaaamn good. Perhaps it was the glorious crunch of masonry on machinery, or perhaps it was the heavenly crack of bone and the guttural scream for a retreat from his foe. Maybe just a taste of days more savage and long gone, but Daniel enjoyed the taste of victory. It was his god-given gift, after all. The crusader would not be alive had the lord not willed his victory.

Today, at least, Daniel was the champion of the lord.

It took him a moment to analyse what grissly trophies were left behind by his foe. Chunks of flesh and orange goo were splattered across the floor: no doubt the technicians would want samples of the creature. He’d leave that to the biologist, anyway. What Daniel wanted was the treasure beneath the grime and gristle.

The chainsword had shattered under the combined weight of a block of concrete and a heavily armoured mech: yet its engine remains mostly in tact. What it ran on was a mystery, but the engine itself was a prize in its own right. Daniel quickly gripped it with the mech’s oversized fist before he turned to the final, and most important of prizes.

Brucie was sending torrents of fire at the tower of flesh, and for the first time: Daniel noticed it was breaking down the APC. Their biologist wouldn’t last very long in there, for certain. That meant that the group needed to pop the can open, and quick.

Daniel chose to ignore the reinforcements. Nathaniel or Brucie could deal with them: people had a habit of distrusting the ex-raider and he had no time to waste. He moved towards the main entrance hatch of the APC, heavily damaged by the chainsword and full of gouges. Whatever kind of tech can cause this much damage…

“No time to think. Need to act.” He decided that he’d make use of his most useful piece of tech on the mech once again, and after carefully placing the scavenged Chainsword engine on the ground, Daniel attached the hook to the door via one of the many additional gouges. Taking a few steps back, he tested the tautness of the line. One yank didn’t dislodge the hook or the door, which meant that he’d both need to and be able to apply the mech’s full: considerable weight.

No radio warning was given: nor was a countdown given. After one last little testing tug, Daniel pulled back the mech’s full weight and pulled on the APC as hard as he could. He wanted to save the biologist now. As much for the information he’d be able to reward Daniel with about this new, mystery foe.

Daniel longed for the day he could clash with the monstrosity again. The heathenous creature would probably remember Daniel now. The raider couldn’t imagine the beast would take defeat lightly.

---

Kiku

---

The only way you can describe the sensation of her predatory spines prickling up in warning was to liken it to a tickle. Something mildly amusing and yet uncomfortable in equal measures. She looked up and saw the incoming Schmuck from above. Her face broadened into a smile as she took in the surroundings, as well as the angle of her foe. It would be a display of incredible intelligence, if she could actually explain what she was doing. Instinct drove Kiku, as it always did: and in her mind the only words that rang out, so very loud, were…

“mine, Mine Mine MINE!”

The daggers were already in her hands as Matthew came in close. He didn’t have much wriggle room considering he was, y’know, midair and stuff: so Kiku delivered a blow which was going to open up his side like a pinata! The joy of seeing him spill open like a gutted fish was gunna be great!

Except that it wasn’t. Something was off about the situation, because the weird schmuck didn’t fall like a normal person. He was weird or something...Almost freakishly weird…

Something snagged her knife though. She looked up with a triumphant and hungry smirk as she saw the trail of blood flowing from the tip of her knife from his arm. It was a tiny little trickle: but the sanguine liquid still trickled on the steel of her knife.

Matthew landed, and so did some other chick, but Kiku stopped giving a crap pretty quickly. Her eyes caught on the red delicacy on her knife’s edge. People were talking and moving and crap: even her radio made noise. It didn’t matter though. The world had taken that cheesy quiet mode. Like someone had turned down the volume and the only sound in Kiku’s ears was the pounding of her heartbeat.

She took off her gasmask, knowing full well that the lethal smog of the Shadow Zone wasn’t going to affect her up top. The mask dropped on the floor like a discarded rag as she moved the knife an inch closer to her face. Seeing the blood so close was half of the extacy: the life of another person, so free of the body, so open to the elements.

Turning to face Matthew, she stared him in the eyes as she dragged the flat side of the knife over her tongue, lapping up the blood on the outstretched muscle. The taste of it was pure ecstasy. Her eyes fluttered lightly as she felt a heady kick of endorphins in her brain. She was so alive in that moment. So active and so in love with the feel of the blood on her tongue: the metalic taste of someone elses life blood, dripping down her tongue and down her throat. She made a show of gulping it down: eyes never leaving Matthew as if to tease him with the pleasure she was finding from the war wound she’d inflicted.

“You taste yummy, hunny.”

She had a satisfied smile on her face as she reached down and picked up the gas-mask: attaching it to her face as she entered a mission-ready state of mind again. She had been denied a snack with the Vampyr, now the airborne Matthew had provided a delightful rectification of that denial.

Looking around the rooftop, she noticed that Jenive and Matthew were the only ones on the roof with her. It didn’t really matter to her how many people saw that little display: although Col Black would probably be pissed if it came up on anyone’s mission report. The good Ms Black had been good to Kiku: If she actually had an angel on her shoulder: it would have worn Black’s face.

“Better go and cover everyone’s booty. See ya down there.”

Kiku skipped ahead of Jenive and Matthew, letting herself become translucent as Camouflage took over her body once more. She moved into cover as she started to move slowly towards the action that broody pants was in the center of. If she was lucky, Kiku might get some more snacks: who knows?! She didn’t bother getting too close though: her skills in a firefight were lackluster at the best of times: there would be better gunners who could take some popshots at the people shooting back at them.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I've sent Heroes a PM for my next post, because I'm hoping to help push the story on a bit and make Jay-Jay do a thing!

The Elder Scrolls: Rising Storm

I got the Argonia post up. Feel free to PM me if you disagree or want to dispute anything. A tl;dr is Argonians want in on the politcal intrigue, but didn't get invited to any conference.

The Elder Scrolls: Rising Storm

Helstrom, Argonia, Ruler’s keep council room.

Rules-With-Claw

28th of the Second Seed

---

“I do not care about some dissident group of mercenaries who do not heed the Hist. If they wish to waste their time attacking Morrowind, let them.” The dominating hiss of Argonia’s undisputed ruler echoed through the halls of the Ruler’s keep. He had taken the name Rules-With-Claw upon ascension to the throne, and he wore the mantle well. His powerful physique seemed to be made more powerful by the presence of the crown and the axe: his two symbols of power.

“My lord…” The voice was from the lord of Thorn, the city that was the closest to the border of Morrowind. “...It is unlikely that the Dunmar will let such an assault slide. They will demand compensation.”

“And we will give them none. We are not helpless anymore, Murraahk of Thorn. They will ask, and we will decline. If they wish to start a war against us, they will find that every shadow has scales. You are all dismissed.”

The sound of chairs scraping on stone rang through the hall as every lord was sent away from the halls of the ruling Argonian...All except three. Rules-With-Claw was aware of the rumours that surrounded these particular argonians. The inner-council, the-claws-with-which-he-rules. Five individuals normally made up these, one was missing.

They all held a different aspect of Argonian culture under their mastery: Sha’eek, the lady in waiting and the matriarch of the Shadowscales; Maraan’a, Archmagus of The Helstrom Academy of Mages and Speaks-with-Songs, the grand Hist-ee. He could spend an age describing these three, as well as the missing An-Xileel warclaw. They were his confidants and his most important of advisers. In these four alone, he would never doubt.

Sha’eek was the first to speak. She cleared her throat in that subtle way she did, and suddenly she was the whisper everyone wanted to hear. “The agent is in place, lord. He infiltrated the mercenaries and now sits in Morrowind, awaiting command.” There were murmurs from the other three claws, with only the ruler himself remaining quiet.

“That is good. You assure me he is unrecognisable from the others?” Rules-With-Claw looked at Sha’eek with the renewed enthusiasm of a man several years his younger. He had lost his life a great many moons ago, and Sha’eek had been the occasional company he’d taken since. What united them, he knows not. Perhaps she had intended to use him as much as he had planned to use her in the political game they used to play. Perhaps that was why they were such good friends, even now.

“Of course, lord…” She paused, as if about to speak his name: his true name. Ever since he’d taken the mantle Rules-With-Claw, he had allowed only a few people to speak his Argonian title. It was a difficult word to pronounce, even for the beast folk. Amongst Men and Mer, it was an impossible utterance. “...He looks as any Argonian does. I doubt the rest of the mercenaries even know of his true colours.”

Rules-with Claw nodded, a toothy grin on the warrior’s face. “That is good. Hopefully, we won’t need to even call upon him, yet I refuse to let the Dark elven Cat-dung think that I am pleased with how they trample on our ancestor’s graves. They have waned in the time since they shackled us, while we have waxed. They would do well to remember that.”

Next, he turned to the two most mythical men in his kingdom. Both were adept at spellcraft, yet of such differing variants that it would be impossible to call them classmates. “I am told that my son left Stormhold a day ago, on the way to a council, or summit of some sorts. Does his journey bode well?”

Both of the mystic men looked at each other and offered a smile. Then, in unison, they nodded at the Argonian leader and spoke in unison. “Yes, my lord.”

---

Imperial Road, Cyrodiil wilds.

Stalks-The-Stars

30th of the Second Seed

---

Something felt good about being in the open world again. Stalks-The-Stars was hardly suited for the art of being a lordly lizard, and he missed the days he served as a general of the Au-Xileel. He had been a warrior: one of the highest ranking members of the argonian war machine. He had stalked the jungles of Argonia as a hunter and as a predator.

Lords did not get to hunt, but it was what Stalks-The-Stars did best. He was hunting a different kind of prey now: one that had eluded Argonians for four eras thus far: Political intrigue. Stalks-The-Stars knew people in most kingdoms now. Envoys and lords who had visited his city and tried so very hard to ascertain what the newly opened Argonia lands could offer. In truth, he wasn’t sure himself. That was part of his reason for being here, really. He would make a tour of the 9 provinces at large if he had to. Thankfully, he doubted it would come to that.

Indeed, his first stop was the most obvious one to visit on a mission of politics. The Imperial city itself. Every nation had an agent in these streets: every province had a place and every agent an agenda. He had but to show up on the emperor's doorstep with whispers of an Argonian proposal of alliance, and within a week, the entire nine provinces would likely sniff around the unknown and unaligned 9th entity.

His father was a master at war, and Stalks-The-Stars fancied himself a warrior too, yet it was this game of intrigue that he found most fun, in recent years. Few argonian’s did it better than him.

On the horizon, he could see the Imperial city. It didn’t even matter if the emperor was there or not: he just needed to make a statement: an invitation to Stormwind city would probably be enough to set the plans of himself and his father in motion.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Lillian Thorne said

What you said

What I heard.

(...I'm sorry >_<)

Edit: On a different note, I plan to post today.

Naruto - Power of the mist.

Here here!

Legend of Renalta 2: Reborn

I call dibs on hiding behind the Minotaur.

The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

I'll be getting up a post in this tonight. I suppose seeing Matthew post first would have been nice, but by no means essential.

The Elder Scrolls: Rising Storm

I've got an alternate history at this moment. Has he made any meaningful contributions to the group? His post didn't really seem to add that much.

Edit: Since it looks like he didn't really do much of anything except send out a lackie, I would probably just start up again, with a diplomatic mission being my first port of call.

Here is my version of Black Marsh, at least.

Black Marsh

-Nation name: Black Marsh or Argonia.

-History: For a great many years, Black Marsh has remained independent of the affairs of man and mer. Their geographical position, as well as their mastery of guerrilla warfare, has led to them being able to maintain a position of neutrality and independence: despite politicking from many a side.

In recent years, the previously isolationist Argonian have begun surfacing as an actual force. Word of a new unifier: an Argonian who goes by the Common name Rules-With-Claw has reached the ears of both the Aldmeri Dominion and the much reduced Empire. Little is known about Rules-With-Claw, as he remains a mostly enigmatic figure, as all Argonians leaders have, but his ascension to power is known to have been one of military prowess and cunning manoeuvring. He rules from the un-breached city of Helstrom.

-Leadership: The Black Marsh is an autocratic monarchy. Rules-With-Claw took control of the throne in 4E 201. He rules from Helstrom as the Argonian ‘king’ although he rules with no other title than his common-tongue name. The majority of decisions are made by an appointed council of high ranking Argonians from all of the major factions: The Shadowscales, the An-Xileel, The Helstrom Academy of Mages and the Hist’ee, as well as representatives of each major city. The Hist’ee were the shamans responsible for communicating with the Hist trees on a deeper level, supposedly able to ‘hear the song’ of the Hist. Rules-With-Claw has the power to overturn any decision made by the council, but in his four year leadership of Argonia, has chosen thus far not to.

-Allegiance: The people of Argonia enjoy a unique position in Tamriel, for they are a completely independent and neutral state. They hold no major alliances and chose not to make many moves on the political board, due to their isolationist ways. Rules-With-Claw has changed this way of thinking and seems set to carve out a place for Argonia on the political map.

Despite their supposed neutrality, the Argonians maintain an animosity towards both the Dunmer and the Khajit. The Dunmer were responsible for enslaving the Argonian people for a number of years and the Khajit accuse Argonian shamans of creating the Knahaten Flu. Animosity towards the Dunmer has simmered after the retribution dealt by the An-Xileel during the invasion of Morrowind, yet the Khajit and the Argonian seems to share a longstanding animosity to this day.

-Military: The Argonian military is known mostly for its Guerrilla tactics and the impregnable defence of its homeland. During the Oblivion Crisis, the Argonians not only defended themselves against the Daedric threat, but pushed the abominations back into their gates and forced the Daedric generals to close their own gates, lest they be wiped out. This was due to the influence of the Hist: yet should a threat of similar merit arise again, little doubt surrounds the Hist’ee and the Argonian in general that the Hist would rise up once again to defend their creations.

Offensively, the Argonians are somewhat less impressive. Without the geographical advantage, the Argonians are hardly unbeatable: yet the An-Xileel have proven themselves more than capable due to their successful invasion of Morrowind, following the eruption of the Red Mountain, although they were eventually driven out of Morrowind’s southern lands by House Redoran.

Their official military is made up predominantly of spear-warriors and archers, with a much lesser number of Mages at their beck and call. The army is average in size, training and skill: certainly nothing compared to the Redguard’s own individual skill level or the High Elves’ sheer numbers. What makes the Argonian military so unique is the Shadowscales. The number of assassins who serve under this mysterious sect is unknown, but their skills are great and their ability to assassinate enemy leaders is well-known and rightly feared. Enemies of Argonia beware.

-Culture/society: Argonian culture is general reclusive and is a mono-species one, not by choice, but by the simple fact that few other creatures are hardy enough to survive the Black Marsh. They share a symbiotic relationship with the Hist and worship Sithis as their god: forgoing the Nine as their deities, respecting them instead as forces of nature, like the Daedra.

It is believed that the Argonian race was actually made by the Hist, which are believed by scholars to be the first beings on Tamriel. As such, the Hist’ee teaches that the Argonian race is the true first race, before any man or mer.

As a society, the Argonian people are a simple people. The farmers go about farming, the craftsman go about crafting and the rulers go about ruling as naturally as the sun passes over to the moons. The Argonians are able to grow their entire populous’ food supply three times over, however this leads to one of the single greatest problems that Argonia faces.

Argonia is a place where trade in perishable goods is nigh-impossible. It takes a long time to transport anything from the lands of Black Marsh to even Cyrodiil, and any food sent there is at least half-rotten. A number of Argonian merchants, who trade in non-perishable goods such as silk and steel, have invested millions of gold into solving these infrastructure problems, but have yet been unsuccessful. The construction of the Port-City Rahkahn is the latest attempt in fixing this infrastructure issue, although the city is still incomplete.

-Other info: Rules-With-Claw has proven to be more open to the idea of political interactions with other races than any previous Argonian leader, if only by merit of being the most public of Argonian leaders. Since his home is in the untraversable Helstrom, diplomatic requests are sent to his son: an Argonian who rules over the more universally accessible Stormhold: A city at the edge of the swamp, close to the Cyrodiil border.

-Important Characters:
Rules-With-Claw: The leader of the Argonian people (note: not king. He rejects the title of king due to the nature of his take over.) He used to lead the An-Xileel but led a military coup against the unpopular Argonian king and its corrupt pantheon of leaders. He is a highly popular, charismatic individual who is a highly capable warrior. He was renamed Rules-With-Claw following his decision to enter the political stage of Tamriel, due to his Argonian name being unpronounceable by Non-Argonian tongues.
Stalks-The-Stars: The son of Rules-With-Claw and lord of Stormhold. He is seen as the 'prince' of his people, and is highly thought of by Argonains for his fiercely friendly nature and his tremendous prowess both as a warrior and as an assassin. While not an actual Shadowscale, he received similar training from his 'aunt' Sha’eek. He is never seen without a strange Wolf-headed ring on his finger.
Sha’eek: Leader of the reformed Shadowscales, Sha'eek is the deadliest assassin in Black Marsh and, presumably, all of Tamriel. She is a close friend of Rules-With-Claws, having shared beds in the past. Her skill with a Crossbow is legendary and her dagger moves as if guided by Sithis himself.
Maraan’a: The Archmagus of the Helstrom acadamy of Mages, Maraan'a is an elderly Argonian of some magical prowess. He is responsible for some of the most potent Illusion and Conjuration spells, and is said to have communicated with Daedra on numerous occasions.
Speaks-with-Songs: The grand Hist-ee and the man responsible for communicating with the Hist trees. He is far younger than his position would have you believe, as his predecessor died less than a year ago. He is in fact a powerful restoration mage, as well as a druidic being.
She'zeek: The Warclaw of the An-Xileel and a very potent warrior indeed. Before taking the mantle of Warclaw from Rules-With-Claw, she had fought in the Cyrodill arena as one of its greatest champions. She uses swords and shields, and is rumored to be lover of Stalks-The-Stars.

The Elder Scrolls: Rising Storm

So uh...Curiosity question, more than anything.

Is this still alive and, if so, are there still slots? I would love to grab Black Marsh up and play some politics with the smoothskins.