Stekkmen

World of Light

@Lugubrious Alright. I hate to say it, but I think I'm going to have to tap out now. I just didn't get a post up. I had to write a bunch of stuff over the weekend, and I just didn't do it. I think with a majority of the Lumbridge crew being sucked into a skelly casino with Centurion still upstairs in a bedroom it's a good as time as any to officially withdraw from the RP. If I started anything else it might just be awkward because it'd be yet another quest line to keep track of that I can't give the time too.

As for everyone else, thanks for RPing with me for the last year, it's been really fun despite mu schedule problems over the latter six months or so, I can't quite remember. I might be online every once in a while but I probably won't be joining any more RPs. For at least...I dunno. A long time. I'm more of just withdrawing from the website as a whole than anything else at this point.

Obviously you can do whatever you want with Centurion. If it's easy enough you could just have him stick around Lumbridge and try to build a life for himself there or something due to his recent crisis of faith.

See ya! This was a really good time.

Something something Roma Invicta

World of Light

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (03/40) EXP (will level up and count words later, still,)
Location: Lumbridge
Word Count: 720

---

Centurion parked his drill kart and was pleased with the reception. Agoston had spent many days in the spotlight, he had been called hero many a time, and he excelled infront of an audience. Needless to say Centurion accepted their modest thanks and gifts with a practiced, modest confidence that maximised goodwill for both parties. He had done it many times before and hopefully would go on to do it many more times.

He would rest shortly but in the meantime, a meal wouldn't be so bad. Unfortunately his allies mostly didn't share the same sense of victory. Most of them were shaken by the experience. True- that was a bad time overall. Centurion himself had lost his cool. Then again, he always responded with Fight, rather than Flight, when he was scared. Scared was a strange term for it, since Agoston never considered himself the type to be scared. There was nothing particularly horrifying about the creatures he faced. This whole land, everything- it was all artificial. No matter how disgusting or cosmic the threats themselves may be, all of them were conquered by Galeem. They don't truly exist anymore. Hollow shadows drudged up to plague the land. Galeem's influence was truly the most terrifying thing about this, but every day they made more progress still. The Land of Adventure was free of an evil influence, and he could sleep soundly tonight knowing he did a good deed. But he understood why some of his comrades weren't so pleased. Some of them seem to have come from lands that did not know the strife that Agoston's did. They weren't used to seeing horrific things. Those that were used to shocking experiences most likely didn't see themselves as heroes, and thus did not rejoice. But they were all independant. They would all cope in their different ways. Long gone were the days of Centurion gathering his troops around a feasting table and rousing their spirits with an inspiring speech. His authority meant nothing here. And why would it?

Agoston would still do his best. He spent the next hour or two at the tavern, eating and drinking to his hearts content, retelling the story of their victory over and over again to those who would listen. He painted his allies as unflinching bastions of courage and recounted their brave deeds during the fight with vigor and sincerity. Truth be told, he didn't need to do much exaggerating. The evil they faced was terrible, and the valor of their deeds were great.

For the first time in a long time, Agoston went up to a safe, warm room and changed out of his battle worn armor and into a tunic and trousers. He glanced at his new, dragon-boxer influenced appearence and shook his head, smirking a little. The deep scars on his bare arms were just as much memories of victories past than the bizarre influences upon his appearance now. He wondered if he would ever look normal again...still, newfound strength and power wasn't exactly the worst thing in the world.

It was late- later than he preferred to stay up. Bad habits that would need to be broken. It felt like a lifetime since he got here- but truth be told, it wasn't that long ago, was it? He was on the verge of his greatest victory at the time. Would his army remember what happened to them? Were they out there right now, wandering the wastes? If they succeeded in their quest, and Agoston was sent home, right to where he was, he wasn't sure what he would do. Was he really just supposed to take the Jarl's Keep and pretend like none of this had ever happened? Probably. Why wouldn't he?

While Agoston may not have been shaken by the events of tonight, there was a different kind of fear corroding his soul away. He lay in bed, the lanterns off, and stare up at the dark ceiling. A kind of fear that was hard to shake. The kind that beckoned Agoston in, the one that he couldn't- or rather, wouldn't- ignore. The kind he couldn't shake off with a charismatic smile and a pounding of his fist against his chest.

The fear that he was small, and the universe was big, and his many victories meant very little at all.

World of Light

I will try to get a post up soon, I forgot to do so this weekend. Most likely tomorrow afternoon some time!

World of Light

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (03/40) EXP (will level up and count letters later)
Location: Ancestral Farmland, Land of Adventure, back to Lumbridge
Word Count: 287

---

Centurion had tossed aside his gladius, the blade sticking out of the ground. Holding the tattered collar of an undead minion he smashed it's face in with his gaunlented fist over and over again. Exerting great effort each time, the head came away into pieces and the re-corpsed being fell to the ground and began to turn into some sort of strange crystal. Standing back, he prepared to leap away as it disintigrated harmlessly in front of his eyes. Suddenly, the Centurion was thinking a lot clearer, and he realised he had been on the verge of some kind of mental break.

"Oh, shit. Right. Did...did somebody call me a fuckwit?" For a brief moment the Centurion lost his usual gallant, educated form of speaking as he stumbled over to his gladius and picked it out of the ground and clanked it on his greeves. Clearing his throat he undid the straps of his helm and removed it, attaching the steel thing to his belt. Some of the others were celebrating and Agoston raised his fist in the air but then put his hands on his knees and breathed in deep. Coming up he cracked his back by twisting one way, and then the other, and then smiled brightly as he stared up at the stars.

"Well, apologies. I suppose that means we won. I may have gone too far in a few places..." he cracked his sore knuckles and wiped off a piece of ickor. "But...but, I think everything ultimately worked out for the best. Good work, everyone!" With that he shook his head, still trying to clear his thoughts, stepped inside his drill kart and followed the monster truck back to Lumbridge.

World of Light

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (23/30) EXP
Location: Ancestral Farmland, Land of Adventure
Word Count: 333

Stress: 80/100

---

The Thing fell. At last! While Scarecrows emerged and new enemies were coming, Centurion felt renwed by this victory. Indeed, literally as well as figuratively. A new skill he had recently acquired turned the thrill of victory into a physical reward, and Centurion's wounds began to seal, the blod and ickor evaporated off of him and his stamina returned to him. Body Count, a Centurion needs only battle to sustain himself. Exhaustion had vanished from his core and he felt renewed once again. Upon killing the Thing he had fallen to one knee and planted his gladius in the ground, taking a moment to recurperate. Grinning, the Centurion became more powerful than ever.

Unblockable, his strikes became. The longer a Centurion fights, the more eager he becomes to win. Brilliant passionate flames began to lick up the side of gladius and emerge from his gauntlet and the edges of his armor. His eyes glinted with battle fervor. Linkle had taken action, unloading a lethal whirldwind of attacks upon the battlefield. At that moment, the sky broke and the light of some alien dawn pierced the veil. The clouds were painted purple. This was it. The beast was still alive on the other side of the battlefield. He would reach it, in time. Right now, Agoston wanted to kill more husks. Put more undead fiends back in the ground.

Foremen. Agoston sought to make quick work of them. With a rousing roar he lunged forward, slamming into the nearest undead infantry. It would be ignited by the flames Agoston now controlled, and the Centurion himself began his relentless onslaught on the inferior beings before him. Dawn had broken! The battle was theirs! The tide wasn't turning- it had always been in ther favor! Victory was INEVITABLE! Centurion decapitated a husk with a single strike and moved onto the next. After eliminating all of the husks he would rush towards the monster on the other side of the field and engage it aswell.

World of Light

Damn, I meant to post. I will have a post up tomorrow guaranteed. I have some time off for the winter. Fortunately the Thing from The Stars is toast, right?

World of Light

Will be getting a post up shortly

World of Light

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (23/30) EXP
Location: Ancestral Farmland, Land of Adventure
Word Count: 359

Stress: 55/100

---

"Careful, Franklin!" Agoston called out surprisingly cheerily after feeling the helmet clink from his ally's flaming machete. Fortunately he had been able to fit it back on his head after he shrank down a little bit. In the meantime, this Thing would not go down, and he only just managed to push himself out of the way of a horrific attack. The sheer terror this thing emmitted was unbelievable. Agoston had not felt fear like this since he was boy. In a way this was reassuring, as the logical part of his mind told him it was some kind of magical fear. Not true, cowardly fear, but one instilled upon him. Nothing more than the animalistic part of his brain being poked and prodded at by some kind of alien force.

But this did little to calm his heart, and nor did it stop the idea of fleeing from pushing itself into his mind. Agoston once again attempted to steel himself, gritting his teeth and tightening the grip on his gladius.

"Keep up the pressure!" The Centurion commanded. He loudly slammed his gauntlet and blade together twice, creating a resounding clang that rose above the noise of battle. His allies beside him, Agoston surged forward. He went low, almost beneath The Thing from Stars. Since it seemed anatomy did not matter to this abomination, the Centurion decided he would simply attempt to seperate as much blood from the monster as possible. As much flesh as he could reap! He stabbed his gladius into the side of the beast and then slammed it with his left hand, trying to create a cavernous ravine of gore through the things body. Currently, the Centurion was too distracted to worry about crystals. He trusted his comrades to do something. Right now, the Thing from the Stars filled his vision and his ears, and was all he could focus on. Perhaps if he disengaged from the thing he could take a moment to compose himself, but Agoston was working himself into a frenzy, slashing, stabbing, and gutting the creature as much as he could manage. And he could manage quite a lot.

World of Light

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (23/30) EXP
Location: Ancestral Farmland, Land of Adventure
Word Count: 276

---

It felt good to sink his blade and fists into the side of this thing from the stars. His allies were quick to join him, and Centurion felt bolstered by their presence. This was the positive feedback loop he had been trained to create and maintain. One of the most important skills of being a Centurion is upkeeping morale. Though most likely the brave heroes beside him would leap into Hell for the fun of the fall. Either way, he grinned as the blood spattered across the ground.

The creature's maw opened, and Agoston knew it was time for it's viscious reprisal. His eyes widened and his grin faded as he saw the insanity within the beast itself. A crystal surged forward and exploded into liquid upon him, bursting. It did not hurt, but he felt himself losing balance. His Phalanx would not protect as much against an attack such as this. He felt weaker. The damn thing was sapping his strength! Damn!

Gritting his teeth he prepared to return when the beast leaped far and away.

"COWARD! Get back here so I can gut you!" He taunted to the Thing, falling briefly to one knee. Groaning furiously he slammed his fist on his breastplate and surged forward, attempting to catch the thing.

"Agoston, chop the tube!" Linkle called out.

Tube? He thought. Suddenly he noticed Tora being attacked by, well, a tube. The damnable thing was sucking his life force out! Following his companion's command he rushed forward and brought down his gladius in a downward swing upon the leech, hoping to sever the disgusting umbilic connection between the beast and his furry ally.

World of Light

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (23/30) EXP
Location: Lumbridge, Land of Adventure
Word Count: 599

---

Centurion had chucked. "If only, Linkle. Ryu bested me aswell. I suppose you are a bit more charismatic and kinder than I, if his senses were restored with words alone. Only a bit, though," He said sarcastically, smiling. After a while, Linkle got an upgrade, and Centurion nodded in approval and finished the rest of his meal.

Just then, the monarch of the crew, (unless one counted Bowser), Princess Peach, arrived inside the Adventurer's Guild. There was combat to be had, and evil to be vanquished. The entire world was hostile, and needed to be smote or restored. It was hardly like his campaigns of old, where movement needed to be carefully considered. The placement of the enemy's army needed to be predicted and guessed at. The path of least resistance to their goal needed to be realised and then taken advantage of. Here, in Galeem's world, that was not the case. Slaying enemies granted them additional powers, and the enemies were everywhere. One could not travel from the cauldron to the pantry without stumbling upon some warped creature plucked from it's forgotten cave. Since any creature slain was another boon gained, "quests" were a valuable investment. Everyone had to power up in order to become powerful enough to defeat Galeem and it's lieutenants.

Thus, a newly refreshed Agoston slammed down his now empty mug of ale, made sure his gladius was secure in it's sheathe, and marched out the door with the rest of his comrades. Finding his old drill kart, the armored man stepped, a little more clumsily than before, within the driver's seat.

He followed the rest of his fellows to their destination. As they neared their destination, they dismounted. They began their ascent. Centurion was quiet, his eyes narrowed, scanning the environment for potential attackers. That, however, would not be necessary, as once they reached the top their foes made themselves quite apparent.

The beast itself was intimidating for sure, but the things around it, it's allies, were what shook Agoston to his core. Horrific, twisted abominations of people, along with some alien creature that that was terrible to look upon. The Thing from the Stars. Suffering incarnate! For the first time in a long time, Agoston felt fear began to creep into his heart. It felt unnatural- Centurions did not become afraid. So what was this? Perhaps, Agoston thought, it was some kind of fear enchantment?

Steadying himself, the Centurion unsheathed his gladius and pounded the flat of the blade against his forearm. Engaging Phalanx, his comrades around him would gain a bonus defensive shield against attacks that manage to hit them. An extra layer of protection.

"Audaces fortuna iuvat! Fortune favors the bold!" He shouted to his friends, hoping to help maintain their courage, and his own. With that, he leaned forward and charged, his feet pounding on the dirt and stone. The fear made him angry. Centurion wanted to kill the Thing from the Stars and prove his worth.

Thus, Agoston charged for the nearest undead farmhand, determined to carve a path directly to the Thing from the Stars. The Gladius surged forward, plunging into the heart of one of the sickly humanoids. Using it as leverage he slammed his fist, newly enhanced with a boxer's technique, into the side of the things temple, trying to shatter it's skull. Gathering momentum, the Centurion began his rampage, trying to cut through as many husks as possible. If he succeeded, he would reorient his efforts upon the Thing from the Stars, hoping to calm his quivering heart by stilling the heart of the terrible, shrieking abomination.