Avatar of Th3King0fChaos

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Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current I play both sides so that I always lose.
1 like
3 yrs ago
Can your Father still claim you if the Mail Man delivered you?
2 likes
3 yrs ago
I challenge you to a game of Paradox Billiards Vostroyan Roulette Forth Dimentional Hypercube Chess Strip Poker!!!
1 like
3 yrs ago
So I realized that the highest honor anyone can get is not to get a Nobel Peace prize, nor getting your name taught throughout history. It's being made into an Anime Character with giant boobs.
3 likes
3 yrs ago
So where do I go after Elysium? I just made it through after beating a Chad-dude and his giant burly friend with horns at a break dancing contest.

Bio

About me:
I am an amateur writer at best as I have had a bit of experience writing short novels and stories as a side gig (Don't ask me for help unless you are desperate. I barely know what I'm doing half the time!)

I mostly Rp on medieval fantasy, modern fantasy, and modern slice of life. However, I am always willing to do anything. And I have been roleplaying for about 8 years now.

I have a pretty open schedule right now, other than planning DnDs, and looking for a job. (Still praying that one day I can get payed to play DnD or by playing videogames, but I haven't made a dollar yet).

PLEASE IF YOU THINK I FORGOT AN RP MESSAGE ME!!!! I CAN GUARANTEE THAT I FORGOT AS I WAS PROBABLY PRAYING TO THE GODS OF CHAOS THAT I WOULD BE ABLE TO WIN THE NEXT GAME OF MAGIC I'M GOING TO PLAY!!! (In all seriousness I'm very forgetful and scatter brained, just send me a message and I should be able to pump out that post in no time)

The partners I am looking for right now is people who are chill and relax as well as just some genuinely nice people to chat to and play with. Any style is fine, just be ready as there are time where it will take some time for advanced posts will take me a few days.

Other than that I like to listen to music and anytime someone asks me to do a thing, 90% of the time I will just do it as I just don't care enough. But I will not sing, my voice is garbage and I am not confident enough to even try to learn now.

Most Recent Posts


Primitive: Survive




Thrown from one situation to another, from hell to high waters Desmond has been through the wringer, yet there was still more. As the moment they came through to the other side after a teleport, he only had a few moments to recompose himself before he heard the cries of Marceline as she screamed out,"SADNSTORM!!".

Desmond's head whipped around to see the massive wall of wind and tiny stones and seemed to nod to himself as he put some strange face mask over his mouth. Quickly following Desmond set his signature hat on his head which changed his clothing into that of long flowing cloths similar to what many Torragonese men would wear.

He then gave one more nod to himself and then turned to Fiske as he gave one last nod, after which he swooped Fiske up under his arm and began to run in the direction of the strange structures he noticed from his quick look around while yelling, "Time to leave!"

Whilst being carried was quite troublesome, Fiske was however too exhausted to make any kind of snarky remark or joke.... Although a bit of a snarky question was not too much of a burden. "How in the hells have you survived with people like them around? It looks like trouble follows them around."

"What are those?" He tried to sharpen his sight to get a better look on the strange structures up ahead.

Fiske began asking Desmond questions, ones he could not answer well, all he could yell out was, "Survive with them? By doing this!" Desmond continued to run with Fiske for a bit longer before he began setting Fiske down and saying, "You need to run! I can't carry you and run fast enough!"

The moment Fiske's feet touched the ground Desmond and him began to run at full force. Desmond had a strange speed about him, as he seemed to almost began to glide across the sands. His feet kicked hard yet the sand did not move. And when he needed to head down the dune they were on, he seemed to almost glide across the sand.

For Fiske, he struggled, such difficult terrains were already a hard one to cross with no training, including with his exhaustion? He couldn't keep up with Desmond, even with his superior magical power.

The distance between them grew more and more as it took Desmond a full minute to finally see his smaller compatriot was lagging far behind and became concerning as the storm was raging forward.

Desmond did a full heel turn and began to slow to a near halt as he began to try and boost Fiske forward. Yet the distance seemed to only grow as Fiske seemed to have lost all momentum. Closer and closer the sand storm came, and Desmond was slowly making the distance between himself and the strange structure shorter, yet Fiske was still struggling.

Once Desmond made it to the structures he began calling to Fiske as he said, "Follow the light I'm making!" As he began to produce a white flame that once the sandstorm hit, began to burn strong and bright even in the darkness.

Fiske however needed to cover another near 1 mile of ground. His eyes were now being bombarded by wind, sand, and darkness, making even this strong flame nearly impossible to see. His mouth began to fill with sand, his nose began to be almost stuffed full of sand from the wind, and all he could do was walk. His mind was being dulled, as he began to use his magics to dull the pain he is feeling, his sense of smell, his taste, anything to make this pain bearable, as all he could do was follow a white flame in this near darkness.

His feet began to drag as he was moments from collapse, but he needed to press on, he wasn't too far, he hoped, as he looked up, the flame was gone. In that same moment his feet nearly failed him, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him as he blacked out.

Upon waking up some moments later, Fiske found himself breathing through a strange mask, being held close by Desmond as they are in some quickly made cover being supported by the strange structures they ran for.

Desmond noticed and said with a smile, "Look what the cat dragged in. You hungry?" as Desmond shows in his other hand a burrito.

Fiske took the burrito and began to eat it greedily, only stopping when Desmond tells him not to eat the whole thing, and was shown it had the amazing ability to replenish itself, and provided the 2 starving boys plenty of food.
In Avalia 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Time: Morning
Location: Port Vanarosa
Interactions/Mentions: Arlen @SilverPaw, Amisra @Tae, Tanithil @Lava Alckon, and Drosis @Blizz
Equipment: A set of sturdy clothing, a dagger, and his dog tags.




"What the fuck?"


The first things that came to Ismael's mind as he was brought to a new world. He was told so much, informed of much more, told how is all worked, and it plainly confused him. He died? He knew his ticket was up eventually but he never expected it to be in a dingy hotel room. All Ismael could think was that this seemed like some kind of story he heard some of his buddies talk about, it was increadibly jarring for the first little bit, but Ismael was calm. It seemed he was brought here before his death for some reason, and it seems that reason is to possibly save this world.

"Damn, I think I had a dream like this once"


After his summoning, Ismael was given to a group and was told they were not only to protect him, but train him and bring him to some place to learn how to hone his powers. Powers he has gained from being brought to this world right before his death. A strange idea, yet it was one that he had quickly accepted, one Ismael even joked about, and in the company he found himself in, it seemed to sit well.

The time before reaching port was quite simple, he was tested and trained in different regards. His physical combat was often pitted against the lovely Amisra, whom of which seemed to love to try and aim for low blows, to Ismael the is understandable yet it never felt good. If he didn't spar with Amisra, it was with Arlen, a man Ismael found intrest in because of his guns. Flintlocks were quite rare to see in the flesh, sure here it was their technological level, however, for Ismael it was still a real treat to be able to play with one.

If it was not physical training, Tanithil was there to try and train Ismael's magic. Something wholly alien to Ismael, another energy within that can be controlled and produced to produce some magical effect. It was hard to understand, and harder to see results, yet nothing came easy, Ismael knew that. It was still annoying


Ismael had never felt at home on a ship, he may have been a Marine, it did not mean living on a ship was something he was used to. Now on a wooden ship that smelt of sweat, sea salt, and gunpowder. Honestly it was pretty bearable to things he has had to smell before, it was just quite a different life than that which he led, but he got pretty used to it. There was one issue he found, sea legs, he had never gained true sea legs, he didn't live on a boat, he was able to work on a boat, but to live on one is a different feeling. He needed to get used to the swaying and shifting of his center of gravity, something he was able to manage but not something he was used to, but he could fake it well enough to be normal, just don't ask him to run around on the ship at his full speed.

Yet he never needed to as Tanithil had often grabbed him, and today was no exception. Tanithil today came to grab him as they reached port, and with it came a cloak! Once given it, Ismael thanked him, "Oh! Thank you! Very swanky". Ismael chuckled as he adjusted it and listened to the explination Tanithil gave from Captain Morr. Soon they made it near the top deck where Tanithil sat at the stairs before reaching the top deck, Ismael did similar, as he nearly laid himself out on the stairs relaxing and listening. Ismael gave a small nod and a "Aye Aye Sir", when he was spoken to by Captain Morr about staying low and close to Tanithil. Ismael began to make mental notes of what was being said before Tanithil jumped up leading to Ismael doing the same.

"Port Vanarosa hu? Looks like a few places I know". Ismael said this while letting out a chuckle as he began to follow Tanithil to Amisra. There they spoke of some Disguise ring, where one spoke of the possibility of stealing it, Amisra seemed well enough with purchasing one so Ismael said with a chuckle as he rubbed the back of his head, "Oh good, I thought I was going to have to work the corner to get one". Before he let out a laugh and began walking down the plank to the dock while saying, "Well let's go!"

Task Force Charlie: Recon Between Friends


"Mission Charlie: the spaceport near the capital city of Balya Gora has been under the control of the NPDRE, but some transmissions indicate at least one DropShip has arrived from off-world since the coup. It is very likely that whoever the Crimson Fists are working for, they're also providing new hardware for the Espian Guards. We need to know what is coming off of that ship, and who is sending it to them.

"Task Force Charlie will consist of Alley Cat and Desperado. The Raven can scout out the spaceport at range, with the Phoenix Hawk providing cover if needed. If a full scan of the spaceport proves not possible from a distance, or there is no approach without giving away your position, ditch the 'Mechs somewhere safe and approach on foot. Your priorities are to get sensor scans, photographs, captured documents, anything to give us an idea of who is supplying Federov and his cronies, and what they're sending against us. This is strictly reconnaissance, so do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary."





Approaching the first of the three large covered masses, Ziska noticed the pungent, oily smell that stung the nostrils, the tell-tale scent of jet fuel. At first blush, this wasn’t a surprise in and of itself– they were in a spaceport, after all– but most of the fuel tanks surrounding planetary DropShips didn’t carry combustible chemicals. Those ships typically used water as the reaction mass for their massive fusion engines; ethanol and other combustible fuels were typically reserved for atmospheric craft.

Airplanes, then. But why were they being serviced here, and not at the airfield hundreds of kilometers away?

Acting like she belonged, Ziska walked onwards, lugging the heavy toolbox with set gait of a seasoned MechTech, familiar with the burdens of carrying nuts, bolts, and heavy wrenches.

Tarak looked onto the scene and thought about what could be being done. He looked forward and said in a tone only Ziska could hear, ”Wonder if they are worried if that airfield will get hit soon. Either way, seems fun”.

A quartet of NPDRE soldiers patrolled between the three covered planes, maked an approach difficult. Tarak watched their patrol pattern as he gestured to Ziska on an area they can both sneak into without being seen while they figured out the pattern as he quietly said, ”We go there and maybe we can move around like we are some techs. They might just think of us as some eggheads”. Tarak said with a slight shrug as he began to wait for a moment when the guards were looking away and slipping into an area near the possible airplanes. Yet their movements were quite tight, enough so where there was no way to sneak in without being seen.

”--will have your head on a spike if these craft aren’t operational by sunrise! Is that understood?!” The voice was coming from the main path towards the planes, accompanied by the rhythmic tromp of heavy boots.

”Y-y-yes, ma’am,” whimpered the voice of a harried crew chief that followed behind.

At the sound of the approaching voices, the soldiers patrolling between the covered aircraft all suddenly found themselves very motivated to continue their patrol as far away from the approaching footfalls as possible. A risk, but an opportunity.

The once tight movements of the guards slowly fanned more and more out until it opened a large enough gap for them to sneak in. Tarak motioned for Ziska to go first, as he watched the patrols continued. They slowly shifted more and more, as he found time for himself.

At last, Ziska reached one of the huge tarps, opposite from the raging voice that dressed down the humiliated crew chief. Ziska raised the tarp to look inside.

Confirming suspicions, it was in fact an aircraft, and not just any. The main fuselage of the plane was narrow and almost cylindrical, with a pair of winglets flaring out from either side of the cockpit, and a pair of wide, flat delta wings spreading out towards its tail. It was an ugly, ungainly plane, one that looked like it had been built completely around a single gun…which it was. The sight of one of these things in the air was enough to make the hair of any Mechwarrior that had read their technical readouts turn white.

A Mechbuster.

They knew that the Espian Guards already had a squadron of Meteor conventional fighters, but Mechbusters were something else. While it mounted hardpoints for missiles, bombs, and other external weapons, the plane only carried one onboard weapon: a Zeus-75 Mark IX Autocannon, a beast of a gun equal to the cannon mounted on Merry-Go-Round. A single burst of fire from a Zeus-75 was enough to cripple most light or medium Battlemechs, and a well-struck hit could destroy one outright. If there was any saving grace, it was that Mechbusters were notorious for having precious little ammunition. Even then, it made for a terrifying dive-bomber.

”--should already be bearing down on the Green Knights, not waiting for your pathetic technicians to keep fumbling about with assembly and complaining about ‘skilled labor shortages.’”

”Y-y-yes, Ma’am,” the crew chief sputtered, ”b-b-but the laborers being brought in from F-F-Fort Tie Shan haven’t b-been trained on this equipment! We n-n-need time to–”

”Make another excuse, and I’ll hold you down and step on your face.”

”.....m-Ma’am?”

Despite the voices, Ziska made no sudden movements to dart into cover of the shadows. Instead Ziska moved towards the voices. Moving just like she had seen her MechTechs Ziska raised the second tarp, finding another Mechbuster waiting beneath.The Espian Guard were a third string planetary garrison at best. Mechbusters. A pair of Mechbusters, fresh enough at a glance, were not something the Espian Guard were supposed to be able to field. Not without some serious help. And not without some real support by the way of under the table C-Bills.

Tarak sighed as he quietly said to Ziska, ”Seems like they have quite a trouble with these, how about I make it a little harder”. Tarak said as he began to open his tool box and began producing items as he said to her, ”You go see what else they got, I’ll start fucking with this one”.

”--don’t care about your excuses, you simpering peasant!” roared the first voice, getting closer. The voice sounded oddly familiar. ”The Crimson Fists have come to this world to bring an unholy wrath upon those we deem our enemies. And the more you test my patience, the more I’m beginning to see you as an enemy. Do I need to explain what will happen to you if you continue to annoy me?”

”N-n-no, Mom– err, Ma’am!”

”What was that?!?!”

”M-m-Ma’am! I said ma’am!”

Waving to Tarak, Ziska walked calmly forward, trying to get close enough to the third plastic enshrouded figure. The Colonel owed her, she decided. She was going to find out what the Espian Guard had acquired. He had asked for recon. And by the grace of the Magistrix herself, Ziska was going to deliver, come hell or high water.

The third aircraft, still obscured by the tarp, had a different shape from the first two. It was wider, flatter than the two Mechbusters, and Ziska could make out enough of a profile to assume it was a flying wing. Moreover, the craft was surrounded by heavy crates, also covered by tarps and camo netting, though these tarps were festooned with warning signs suggesting high explosives.

Along the ferrocrete deck, a thick fuel line ran underneath the tarp to a large water tanker. Unlike the two Mechbusters, this craft had a fusion engine. If Ziska could just get close enough to see–

“You there!”

Turning slowly, Ziska saw a woman in dark red military garb and a long black coat, the lower half of her face covered by a scarlet scarf.

”Come here,” the woman said, her voice burning with a hateful cruelty. ”I wish to demonstrate to our dear crew chief what happens to those who displease the Fire Witch.”

The Fire Witch, the pilot of the Longbow that had nearly destroyed Ziska’s Raven, approached Ziska, reaching into the inner pocket of her coat. From it, she pulled a length of cord, about two feet in length tipped with a metal ball. With a flick of her wrist, the cord began to buzz with electricity. A neural lash, one of the most barbaric forms of torture in the Inner Sphere. Even owning one was considered a war crime in most civilized nations…

Summoning a face of careful fear, Ziska resisted the urge to reach for the pistol she had shoved into the toolbox. She approached meekly, timidly lowering her head, letting panic seep deep into her throat. She had seen a neural lash before. She had felt the sting as her nerves burned with lightning. What did some soft Inner Sphere mercenaries know about cruelty? She had seen worse. Periphery pirates were not known for their compassion.

But she had to pretend. Information was more important. Ziska would kill. Ziska would shoot without hesitation. A pirate for a mech commander. Not a bad trade. Not a poor exchange in most circumstances.

However, the Green Knights desperately needed information. And the Colonel needed intelligence even more. She wouldn’t make it out of the spaceport if she started blasting. She couldn’t be Ziska. She had to be someone else. Someone afraid. Someone unimportant. She was nobody. A civilian mech tech. Afraid. Uncertain and completely terrified of the woman standing in front of her. She had heard the stories about the Crimson Fists. And she knew the rumors.

“This is the sort of miserable lot your planet has to offer?” the Fire Witch jeered, her voice thick with contempt. ”It’s no wonder your crew is late getting the planes airborne. Had you done your job properly, we would be raining death on the Green Knights’ hideout this very minute. How many days do you expect the delay?”

”Th-th-three days, Ma’am.”

”Three days,” the Crimson Fists’ lance leader growled as she toyed with the neural lash in her hand. ”I believe one for each day should be plenty.”

Before Ziska could even see she had moved, the Fire Witch struck with a backhanded blow from the electrified lash. The steel ball on the end of the cord caught the pirate across the eyebrow, splitting the skin of her forehead. In the split-second the lash made contact, it made an angry crackling sound, pouring hundreds of volts into her victim, and sending Ziska crashing to the ground with a pained scream.

”Take comfort in small blessings,” the Fire Witch mocked at Ziska’s agony. ”A few millimeters lower, and I would have taken your eye. Now then…”

As the enemy Mechwarrior raised her arm for a second strike, the crew chief spoke up.

”W-w-ait!” he spouted. ”I c-c-can’t stand to see my workers punished for m-my responsibility. If you’re going to p-punish someone, p-punish me.”

The Fire Witch regarded him, then lowered her scarf to spit at the ground in front of Ziska. Even in her immense pain, Ziska saw something…off about her face. The scar running down over her eye looked appropriately fearsome, but it quickly tapered off, and she could swear she saw a seam at the bottom…

”Thank your chief for his sacrifice, worker,” she said as she quickly covered her face again. ”However, I expect the planes to be operational in two days now. Otherwise I might not be so merciful.”

As the Fire Witch turned to storm away, the crew chief lingered behind for a moment.

”Sh-she’s not k-kidding,” he said to Ziska. ”For the n-next two days, it’ll be d-double shifts for……wait……who the hell are you?!”

Pulling herself onto her knees, Ziska looked up at the crew chief, letting herself shake with a deep series of sobs as heavy tears ran from her eyes, “I- I’m not even supposed to be here. I was just on leave. I was just supposed to grab some more supplies and then they told me they needed every technician. I told them! I told them I was just a civilian, but they didn’t care.”

Burying her face in her hands and channeling all the terror she could imagine, Ziska cried for a solid minute before looking up again, making sure that her hands were suitably streaked with blood.

“Please, I need a med kit.”

The crew chief frowned; changes in the roster were supposed to go by him in advance, especially around the valuable new air assets. It had to have been Nizitsky, grabbing one of the conscripted civilians so he could slack off. He’d make sure that slacker had hell to pay for it on the next shift.

“You stay right here,” he told the injured civilian before turning back to the Fire Witch. “Err, Ma’am, her injury does look severe. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll head to the infirmary to grab a medkit.”

The masked Mechwarrior nodded slowly, still toying with the neural lash. “Tend to the wound enough to ensure she is not rendered useless, but make sure it leaves a scar. I want everyone this woman works with to see the price for shoddy work.”

“Y-yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “D-don’t go anywhere,” he said to Ziska as the two turned and walked away.

Ziska waited only until she was sure she was alone to stop her sobbing. Practically jumping to her feet, any hint of fear or sorrow was gone, instead her eyes glittered with cold anger. Blood ran slowly down her face. The Firewitch had made her bleed. She’d made her bleed again. Faced with thoughts of vengeance, Ziska retreated to icy professionalism.

Lifting the tarp, Ziska repressed an unwelcome laugh. A gull-winged aerospace fighter, heavier and far more armored than the fragile Mechbusters. A Shilone, a deadly aircraft that any experienced MechWarrior could recognize. The bunker buster bombs arrayed neatly next to it, ready to be loaded, promised nothing good for the Green Knights or anything else that they hit.

Satisfied, Ziska moved quickly away from the three unveiled aircraft. She retreated into the shadows, heading back towards where she had entered the spaceport with Tarak. She had no intention of being there when the crew chief returned. Her story wouldn’t survive any serious investigation or probing questions. She trusted that Tarak would manage by himself. His sabotage mission was his own. She couldn’t help him. Time was up. She had learned enough. It was time to get back to the Green Knights.

Tarak had spent much of this time under the tarps of one of the planes. He had spent a majority of the time rigging the plane for when it was to fire their guns. The electrical signals will be instead routed to ignite within the fuel lines. Tarak hoped that when they tried to take off, they would crash and burn with the pilots. A dream for sure, but it should buy time with one of the planes being down, they’d need to take a serious look at the engineering crew.

Once Tarak finished rigging the first plane he had slowly crawled out from under the tarp and slowly moved between the planes. He saw the scene unfold, as Ziska was bashed in the head by this witch. Yet he could not respond, him being seen is the worst case, as once he made it under the next plane, he tried doing the same thing before, but began to hear the conversation wind down and knew he didn’t have the time. He decided once a panel was open, to shove one of the repossessed tools into a cramp set of wires and pipes, and try to wrench out as much he can to damage what he could. It was a small thing, but it would at least make them second guess what they were working on.

FInally once that was done and he heard the final remarks of each person, Tarak slowly came out of the tarp. He looked to Ziska and said, ”What we got….oh boy, now that is a fun thing, Colonel will love to hear this”. Tarak sighed as he thought for a moment, he knew he didn’t have enough time to jerry rig something, and knew he couldn’t get enough time to do anything without being seen, it was Ziska who broke the silence as she said, “We got the info, no need to start some fireworks”. Tarak sighed before agreeing.

With the assistance of Tarak, Ziska moved quickly as they began to backtrack. They needed to move fast, and little time could be wasted. Their get away was nowhere near as smooth as their entrance, yet that wouldn’t matter within moments. They had to move quickly, and slightly without worry. Tarak was approached a few times by security, he had used his larger body and suppressed firearm to quickly deal with them, not worrying too much about the bodies left. For Ziska, she was able to sneak by because of her injury, using it to excuse herself from the multiple guards moving. Once they had made it back to the maintenance shack the two grabbed their gear they stashed and began to make their way back to their battlemechs.

Once they were able to mount up, the race was on. The Phoenix Hawk and the Raven were both extremely fast mechs, yet they couldn’t fully use it without giving themselves away, so they had to move quickly yet quiet. They had little time before the base would know that an intruder was once there, but it was enough time for them to get away. It was maybe 20 minutes when they began to enter traveling speeds and began to head back to base.

During this escape a direct pulse transmission came through to the Raven, ”I think we did okay”.
In Avalia 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


The face claim is Doudanuki Masakuni.
In Avalia 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


The face claim is Doudanuki Masakuni.
@Jonesy

discord.gg/EAN7WxRw

There you go my brother


Primitive: A Dance in Hell

In collaboration with: @jasbraq as Fiske



"Where are we?"

I don't know

"What is that?"

I don't know

"Why is this happening?"

I don't know

How did something so simple become like this? I can't tell you, but I can at least go through it once more.


Upon exiting the portal created by Jocasta we were told of a strange metal tube that was found with a note. This note was made with a blocky and clean lined text that reminded me of Sirrahi typography. The note was addressed to multiple individuals within the group and spoke of finding some 'Silent Ranger'. It was simple, that was where I think we made our first true mistake. I at least asked Jocasta to retrieve some things for me from my shop, this was much different than what he expected, so it needed a few more things. Firstly, the blue hourglass that we found in that god forsaken tomb. Then, the strange vial that was found with the hourglass, god knows what it is, but being there and both being connected to the Sirrahi, anything might be important. Like that helped with what we are facing.

Once I got the items I needed, we began to head off, eventually finding some strange city within the desert. As like all other things before, we stepped into the unknown. Coming upon the world of the undead, and we never knew it. Once we entered, the sky darkened and we began to feel magic beginning to well, yet when we attempted to fight it, nothing happened, not even temporal magic, so we had to move forward, there was no way else. As they came upon a simple challenge, colors and matchings of 5 different spots. Me and Fiske had chosen to take one spot, and that was a mistake on my part. As now I was stuck with the one coward who would try to trick and fool even the Gods to get away from a little trouble. In that moment when we all found our place, magic began to surround us, and then we were gone.

We had arrived in some strange corridor, it was dark, damp, and had scrawlings upon the wall. Through the use of magic we were able to begin looking upon the walls, and all we saw was horror. Grotesque images of creatures, beings, and shapes, all of which seemed to almost morph and move as we looked, and then, that was when we realized hell was upon us. One of the images moved in such a way to almost seem real, it seemed to shift as it took the form of some strange bat, and then became so real, it looked like it was really in front of us, and then it was. It lept out right for me, flying at such speeds that it could have been mistaken for a bullet, thankfully my senses and reactions were sharp enough to sway back, buying myself just enough space from having those claws tear into my face. Yet, before we could even turn, it was gone, and then, we felt it, hundreds of these creatures. Hell had opened up, and apparently we were right at the gate.

Fiske did exactly as I expected, truth be told, I would have done the same, he ran while using his magic, yet it seemed that no matter how much he tried the damn bats had his beat. For me? I was in probably the worst place imaginable, yet I realized something much worse, my power was waning, and fast. I had used the power Yalen gave me, now the connection was split, I could feel my manas disappearing, yet that meant nothing to what came next, the hunger. God it was terrible. It was painful, it isn't something that is easy to describe, you need to know what it felt like, you need to know what it feels to be starved to near death. What it feels like to have to work without having eaten anything in weeks. It makes one weak beyond belief, yet also ravenous, and I was nearly consumed by it, losing all semblance of my situation.

It was not until I heard the sounds of metal claws grinding upon my armor and it felt as if I was nearly thrown from my feet that I was pulled back. My hands shot to my pistols in their holsters and all I could see was red. My body moved on its own, my armored suit told me where things were coming, it came to my instincts to then how to move. Multiple angles of attack, as the bats came flying at me, one from below, one from my side, one from above, and one from directly in front. I shifted back as I flipped back, setting one hand to the ground and continued it, and even I landed more continued their onslaught. I continued through that flipped then performed another, and then another, I shifted and dodged. Constant attacks, constant flurry of attacks, hundreds of bats constantly barraging me, and all I could do was dodge, But I needed to attack, I couldn’t dodge all day, I will never be able to survive like that, I would never escape or win like that.

So I need to get better. I could not rely on my sight, their illusions were powerful, nearly strong enough to make me believe when they made contact with me that they were real.

I couldn’t even fully rely on my magical senses, nor even my suit as the presence their illusions made seemed to even trick these fine tuned senses.

No matter the case, I had to get better. I would have died if not.

Every dodge I made, every movement, was incredibly wasteful. These large movements I used were sloppy and made it where I had more openings that were then filled by more bats closing in trying to attack. A constant barrage of illusions and attacks made it where attacks constantly rained down upon me, and the sheer reason why I lived was the armor and gear I had made. Their claws could not find purchase on my body, my mask had covered much of my face, the only place I would have any meaningful injuries were on the top of my head. Meaning I still had a weakness, yet I could defend it, and even then I was still struggling.

This struggle led to the need of my very existance needing to be refined, everything mattered, I couldn’t even get a moment to breathe a full breath. These large dodges and dives needed to be refined, they wasted so much energy and gave me nothing more than problems, so I need to use less energy. I began to slowly shift from full dives to doing large jumps and lunges. Turning these lunges into steps, these steps into half steps. From what came to one dodge to half dodges, then that to light shifting, beginning to do 2 actions at once. Taking hits that meant nothing, slashes that found no real purchase, and attacks that slid across me. These small cuts on my armor and gear began to disappear. Finally, I was able to act out this dance I had played in, I was following another’s rhythm, another’s tune. However when I dance, I am the one to lead.

A slight half step back, a slight arm shift forward, these slight movements setting up for attacks. With the step back my arm slightly shifts and comes up to fire my pistol, when my arm is up it continues to move to not allow myself to be winged and I follow the movement to keep myself tight and flowing.. My other arm slightly moves and fires as well in another direction, it did not matter where I fired, nor when, as long as I fired an attack, I was doing something. These attacks may not have hit anything, yet it gave a slight opening in this constant dance of death. Inches and moments away from death, I could feel it, yet I couldn’t care, as long as I was moving, I was living. In this macabre dance between life and death, I am the lead dancer.

They began to attack more, and this dance sped up in pace, blood began to fall, from both me and the bats. Slight cuts began to form once more on my armor and myself. The healing and repairing constantly done by the armor made sure I wouldn’t die, but how long would that even last, I wouldn’t know. Yet I could now feel it, Fiske was near me once more, I could feel myself being overwhelmed and all he did was run, trying to probably hide and failing, Scared and inches away from death, all I could say in this all was, ”You fucking coward! All you are doing is running!”

In the moments where I did not speak, gun fire resounded throughout these damned halls, it left little true time for a response without trying to talk over me. Allowing no defense on Fiske’s side, wasn’t exactly planned yet it helped greatly.

”You chose to come! You knew the risks! And you’re running?! Where to?! There is nowhere to go!”

Another slash came across my back as it was one of the few areas defended by a Royal Sand Wyrm scale. Yet it let off a horrific screech as it had such a high metal content.

”You wanna know that ending?! You’ll die tired! You’ll die as nothing! For nothing! Are you going to die in some hole?”

I continued to fire as more bats came, I swung my guns, using the blades upon them to slice through the air, it hit nothing and could have left me open, and the bats seemed to know that. Yet I continued through to a pirouette using my legs and body to kick and swing around me. Creating a near tornado of attacks that forced any bats near back or to die from a powerful hit.

”What will you do!? Will you die for nothing? With nothing?! Looking like some kind of coward? Dying in some corner because you decided to run!? As nothing more than a shitless corpse! YOU will be nothing! Have nothing! You will never be remembered if you die here!”

Were these cries of fear? Probably. Were these me yelling at myself? Maybe. This might also have been my only chance to see the sun. Maybe it was not to spur Fiske on. Maybe it was a bit of myself.

It may have been the one chance I had. Maybe. Maybe…

Weakness, weakness and cowardice are the only things ever acknowledged from my actions. It is never my accomplishments. Never my compassion towards others. The thoughts of fighting against these things makes my legs shake and shiver.

Never be remembered? As if I will be remembered by my so-called friends if I were to bite the dust here. Soon enough after the Enigma of Ahn-Shune released an array of light beams comes from the figure in the corner, hitting the dirty pests before that heat was used to ignite the bats, making them appear more akin to little flying fires.

I appear from the corner looking annoyed beyond belief. ”Shut up, shut up, shut up! You know nothing! YOU will die as nothing while I become everything!” Tears trailing my cheek as fear appears to still take an effect.

Well. ain't that a show?

Thankfully it opened a moment for me to breathe as I can fight back more, but that too is quickly taken and slowly pushed back into a near maelstrom of death.

"You wanna be something?! Don't make me laugh! With a show like that? Your half assed work? You'll be forgotten!"

Come on Fiske, I need you to do more. I know you can do more, if we are to live, you need to do this. Come on, let it out, get angry, get mad. You're strong enough, use that power hiding inside you.

”My half assed work? You filth! You would never understand my art! It is nothing half assed, if anything it’s double assed!”

During these words my surroundings began to heat up, fire building up before a massive pillar of fire began to spurt from the middle of the room, spurting fire towards its surroundings.

”There! Is that half assed?!”

The heat was intense, so intense I could feel my skin boiling on my face. With this level of heat, honestly my suit might have been the only reason why I was able to stay alive as it healed me by constantly drawing from the heat and radiating it back to cool me and using any leftover energy to heal me. The flame pillar began to swallow the hallway more and more as it became harder and harder to handle, however I had to endure it long enough. I began using more magic to protect myself, even the small area I need to protect was difficult, the amount of energy was just so intense, however moments later, the fires were quelled and left a radiating heat. In this room it was dark and hard to see, however it felt like the heat was akin to being directly under the sun itself. Once I made a light I saw the carnage left over, bats charred and boiled beyond recognition, the sickening sound and smell of boiling fat. Then I saw Fiske’s face, he seemed almost about to break down.

”That’s a little better. You did good.”

I set my hand on Fiske’s shoulder, ”Let’s get out of here. No one will know about how good that was if we don’t leave”.

As if in a daze, my response was somewhat delayed. ”Yeah… Let’s..”

I caught Fiske and began carrying Fiske as we slowly followed strange illuminated arrows that I remember seeing on the tube Jocasta had. Is this a trap? Probably, but what else can we do?, This was a strange place, with strange images on the tunnel that seemed to make no sense, yet because of Fiske, it was calm. After a little longer we finally reached a door, and it was time to figure out what was on the other side.

I hope it’s a warm meal. I’m starving.


Primitive: Fight or Flight




Desmond looked to Yalen, as the younger man spoke to him about bringing the others back safe, Desmond smiled and said, "Of course, you talking like-", Desmond instantly clenched his teeth as he felt an energy begin to work it's way into him, at first he fought it and nearly broke the connection. He had felt this energy multiple times now, as it was something he was familiar with at this point, a Command. Desmond then heard a word leave Yalen's mouth and sighed, it seemed it was a friendly Command. Desmond felt himself nearly break the connection, yet allowed it to go through, as he heard the priest roar to life and so too did Desmond's own manas and power.

It was something Desmond had now felt countless times, an over flowing of mana that well exceeded his own natural amount. Yet it also felt uncomfortable, he could feel his body shift, his blood vessels expanding, his heart beating harder and faster, he could even feel slight tinges of pain here and there as the amount of manas swelled and almost blocked blood flow. He let out a sigh as he said, "This feels weird, but thanks, this should do some good then. I'll make sure they come back". Desmond gives Yalen a nod and a pat on the shoulder before he looks to the others, preparing to leave. Desmond drew from his own gravity and began to float while saying, "Let's go save some damsels".

Desmond had made it to the fight around the same time Benedetto did, using Chemical, Kinetic, and magnetic magic to increase his propulsion. Yet he was met with a sight, a Royal Sand Wyrm just staring down onto them, as he was caught up on the gist of the situation and then ordered to do something, he said one thing, "Ayla, why are you always trying to tame everything we find?" It seemed most others were in agreement, taming it was the least of their priorities, as the moment the beast was given some food from Jocasta it left, allowing them to head into her portal with the Rangers, allowing them to maybe find where the temporal ripples are coming from. Desmond agreed and began to enter the portal saying, "Time's a wastin'. If we wanna find out who sent that beast at ya, we better start where the Ranger says it might be".
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