Unraveller

Sanguine Empire: A dark, feudal asian fantasy rp.

I came to the advanced interest checks with precisely this idea in mind for something I was looking for. What a coincidence that I find it not a few entrees down. Sign me up! Especially for a beefy Ōdachi or perhaps polearm-wielding fatherly ronin.

Escaping the darkness. Grimdark Fantasy, More information inside.

You've my curiosity as well! Finding a RP that can really commit is a challenge, but let's give it a damn go.

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

Aged eyes scanned the shade choked interior, moving swift picking up their pace and absorbing information at hand. Content to allow his angular partner stall for time and give him an opening, Michelangelo begins making a few mental notes. First his mind is not easily taken off the rigid corpse abaft their quarry, blown apart by the man's weapon; some kind of shotgun with six revolving chambers. . .

'De man himself, even from-a-this distance I can see his terror. Frightened beasts bear their fangs when-a-backed into a corner. . .' The muscled luchadore pondered, quick as he could, watching on as Arduous carelessly waltzed toward the robber. It was then that a brief doubt beset upon him, though heroes, mortal men they were still, so what was the pair's plan for dealing with this foe? With a desire to regroup, Angelo threw out a few accented words, "This man is-a-dangerous, be cautio-"

~~~BLLLAAAAM!~~~

His lungs discarded every last bit of air out the C-class hero's mouth agape. Those, sunken orbs wavering, snapped upon unmoving form of his partner. Already Angelo could see the glistening of the other's life dripping away. . . "MISTER HUFF!" He bellowed, abandoning the belated caution he prescribed with a dashing of bootfalls, his own beige trechcoat fluttering as he moved. Yet once again, the beefy wrestler was stunned in place, this time however, by his companion's words, with almost more voracity than before.

"I see. . ." The mustachioed man sighed, confidence welling back up within. Leaving a brief silence to reign before the mechanical cock of the villain's weapon brought attention back upon himself. "H'what?!" The exclamation came, followed by another flesh-rending blast of the boom stick. Another scattering of lead shot staggering the wispy haired vigilante. Yet, to Billy's ire he stood strong, no, stronger. Either men could see the scowl beamed toward them, and with another cock of the gun the hick spat his frustration along with, "I-If you ain't takin' Rosy's hot lovin' then. . . How 'bout yer friend!?" But Angelo was already moving, his boots carrying him about the queuing area. A mighty hand grasped upon the bowler that sat upon his dome, roaring out, the man whirled his cannon arm, shotputting the hat as he ran, "We are heroes. And so there shall be no-a-hesitation!"

To Bayou Bill, it felt more like a brick than woven fibers, smashing his gut with force whilst an itching finger pulled back upon the trigger, sending a shower of lead crumbling 'midst solid masonry. Easily recovered, the swamp-man retrained his sights on the accelerating luchadore, another pair of consecutive shots, metallic balls spiraling toward their target. None make their mark. . .

For it was within that instant, that Michelangelo hefted up a thick corner table, much like a shield, a scattering of magazines and pamphlets glamorizing the Hero Association flutter into the air, pierced by deadly bullets. In exchange, cascading splinters shredded apart the muscled hero's arms, yet neither he, nor Arduous' pace faltered. At least. . . Not until the heavy-set hillbilly took hold of a young woman's collar, still bound and silenced. The teller's legs flailed, she struggled against the man all until the cold, unfeeling barrel of Rosy pressed against her skull. Once again, there is a silence, a tensity that rests over the three men, shoulder to shoulder the bloodied heroes gaze on, searching for their in. "S'what I done thought! Yall won't do a damn thing now, wont'cha?"

The overall-garbed robber made doubly sure that twitching index finger of his was getting real intimate with Rosy's trigger. With a deep inhale and a spat of his phlegm, Billy began dragging the roped up teller toward a most imposing wall of brass, the vault door. All around them, wires and taped sticks of some volatile home-brewed explosives. Finally, the grey-eyed man swung his glare back and forth between the slowly advancing heroes, shooting a few more words their way, "Don'tcha come any closer! H'yup, I can tell yer both 'fraid of losin' missy here's life, so I'll tell ya what I'll do. . ." The trio shared a few careful steps, Billy backing up ever so slightly, while the others kept in pace. "Yall two lil' yeller-bellies back on up, then yer gonna turn 'round and march out that door, an' finally, keep thems enforcers from innerfering with this here business o' mine."

With a flick of his wrist and a 'go on, get!', Bayou Billy was overcome, his bluff called out. Both Angelo and Arduous continued to advance upon him, a steady, rhythmic pace. "W-What're yall doin'?! I'll blow her head off!" Billy roared back, sweat pouring off his brow. . . "Go on-a-then, do it. If you even can." The luchadore coos in response, the poor woman beginning to tear at the 'heroes' apparent disregard for her life as they continue yet still. Hardly more than an arms length from their quarry, whom with ire burning in his eyes, raises the boomstick straight for Angelo's masked head, an empty click of the trigger, the barrel is crushed, bent out of the way as nonchalantly as the strongman could muster. "Six shots. Call it. . . A gamble."

Two fists, one from either partner, heavy with the weight of their justice connect and smash into the hick's stomach with a tremendous. . .

~~~THUD~~~

His limp form slid down the brass vault, slumping against it. Dazed, battered, and defeated, Billy could do little more than stare through the haze up at his soon-to-be-captors. Yet. . . His pocketed hand could feel something, something that called a smirk to his dejected face. "Y-Yall're. . . Yall are comin' w-with me." He wheezes, producing a brick device and immediately crashing his thumb into the receiver. . .

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

It was a wonder, each and every time the beefy 'hero' stood, affixed to the rattletrap among countless other souls experiencing their own lives. Those sunken eyes would gaze out beyond the frosted glass, drinking in brief images of man and make alike before they dissolved into blurs of color and light. A veritable wavelength of City-U's life, one, that to the perspective of Michelangelo, sped unto infinity.

But, he resolved, not this day. "Don't a'speak'a like that Mister Huff. Heroes awake whenever the need arises, no?" Ever wrapped in accent, the muscled man made sure to cut his response straightforward to his. . . Unmotivated companion. And yet still, it was clear to any that their values differed some. Still, Angelo endured the younger man's jeering, responding in kind when his chance came, "Eeeh. . . I am not'a one for 'de games of chance."

A thick hand ambled up to scratch upon his unshaven chin as he continued, scarcely aware of Arduous' eyelids growing heavier by the moment. "Yes. . . I must be sure, make 'de correct decisions in an instant. Always be. . ."

To the arrow-headed man, his massive partner's words slowly trailed off to nothingness. And so they continued as they were, overlapped by the innumerable other one-sided conversations busily chattering away, which were in turn overtaken by 'Vanessa's' sweet song of shearing copper and clattering steel. With the occasional commentary of her disgruntled conductor. Idyllic? Hardly. With beasts, villains, and heroes abound to cause destruction wanting, the people of City-U are strong, unwavering, and far to invested in life to allow the unexpected to thwart them. . .

". . . So you see Mister Huff, that is why-" Vanessa bellows out her final wail for the morning tram-line, each and every passenger within could feel the unfathomable momentum push their breakfasts deep into a pit as they halt. It was their stop.

With a locked gaze and a nod toward one another the two men strode from their metallic transport. The mid-morning sun casting down its rays, shading either hero with intensity not seen before about them. Their eyes scanned about, taking first in the grandiose sight of City-U's central quarter, the cobbled roads clogged thick of bodies moving about their business uninhibited by rows of men, garbed in coats of muted green. All gathered about in briefing, around the mighty granite walls of the first civic bank. Brandishing their arms, the enforcers can only hope the criminal within starves and falters through their siege.

With purpose, with intent, both Arduous Huff and Michelangelo Alduino march in lockstep toward the line, muscles and resolve bulging about their forms.

"Just great. . ." The pair hears, expulsed through a heavy sigh under a breath.

"Hey, hey, no civilians passed this here point!" The gruff voice exclaimed, followed by a meaty finger drawing attention to the rolled on dotted enforcer line upon the cobbles. Neither of the companions could make much of the beer bellied man's expression, his eyes covered by thin-framed shaded glasses, just as well as the wide-brimmed badge hat upon his head.

However the broad and built luchadore nary concedes an inch as his boots bring him forward, "We are no civilians." He states, plain as can be in response, continuing his steady advance to the multi-tiered steps before them.

After a seemingly shocked pause, whether feigned or not, another heavy sigh breaths through, the wide enforces hefts his way to block the pair's advance. "This here's a hostage situation, you damn heroes got that? Ain't so easy ya know?" Face to face with Angelo, the badge denoted captain rubs a finger across his nose, through a thickly bristled mustache, rivaling the wrestler's own. Despite the enforcer's words, the two men share a brief moment of mutual respect and silence. . .

Then the pair of heroes moved onward. . .

~~~KUUUURRRRSSSHH~~~

Massive masoned doors, the very threshold of their justice, wheeled open. The day's light pouring in at their backs.

"H'what in tarnation?"

Inquires a jaded voice, followed by the harrowing cock of his six chambered shooter.

As Darkness Fell - A dark fantasy story

Getting out of my recent funk, gonna start posting again real soon everyone!

As Darkness Fell - A dark fantasy story

Turned neither eye nor nose to the wizard addled in memorium, Gerhard merely gazed with that certain aged understanding of his so dear. Deep-set somewhere firm within those fleeting orbs of the younger of two men something laid-bare in brief. For specifics, the knight could not well say, even so, Mulad no doubt held his own share of remembrances stolen away, just as any in this age. And that thought, perhaps as macabre as it could be, comforted Ser Brandt. A wizard so grand may he be, yet a man just so.

With such a thought, the Glamhoth could do no less than return the kindly smile, a strange thing to be had upon dirt-laden paths from which to mistake as deep-shaded clay would be a fault of any onlooker.

A brow most bushy first raised at the magus' discussion of corpse-words, yet before a retort leapt from the tongue an assault feigning foul drove upon either's ear, words snarled 'twixt ivories most sharp. Much as Mulad, the knight wheeled in swift, cape a-flutter to meet the offending speech. A fist near plunged direct for the hilt at the man's hip, and just so! Stayed however was it by temperament practiced and sure.

'Such a beast. . .'

Mouthed he, deflating from readied caution as the wizard made his thoughts obvious to any. Never before 'midst the ser knight's life had a creature such as 'Irrak', as they would come to know, appeared. Relived so Gerhard was of course, to see aggression naught through the monstrous Gnoll, to best a beast as so even with an empowered mage at the side? Doubt cast at the very least.

And so even as a fourth joined in tandem, the small party strode forth through the swamp dire, for the splintered taphouse from which mortals the world over would soon converge. No more gruesome than the blooded bazaar, each man merely took it in stride, yet still the knight could not help but to sigh, even the sacred places such as these were not untouched. Of course it were not so, such wishful thinking in the days following crusades black were as seeds un-watered.

"Nary the place for a drink proper. . ."

Gerhard spoke, half in response to the fervent caster, half to respect those fallen among the rubble. Despite reservations in spades, the man forged inward alongside future companions, electing to stand just 'fore what remained of the bar. Seemed it all but right to sit and even think to make merry within a site desecrated so.

Another form made its appearance along with the eking of the threshold, more mundane, that of elven sort to join the four now, and most welcome indeed, respect of course was shown as Ser Brandt ever had, repeating the bow as before by introduction fair.

Then another of the same make, and another still, little more than a boy, little more to tug at the gentle knight's heartstrings. With time passed, three souls more found themselves within the ruined halls, without fail so, each and every one would find their greetings in Gerhard.

Thus were they so, eleven in all 'neath hollow skies.

---

A knight most of merit,
Elf of life disparate,
A hunter most perplexed,
Little man of life vexed,
A young smith of skills inherit,
Beast of strength declare it,
A merc of sweets apexed,
Girl amidst sacred text,
A dwelf fringed and errant,
Young boy a scout ere it,
An angel appearing next,
Under mage the very best.

---

Twelve 'heroes' of tragedy, know not they the fates that twined and twisted, know not they what lied beyond their mortal perception, know not they the harrows of the future, lest this journey would never have begun. . . So listened they then, the ten, to the twelfth's words, learning of which the part they had all to play in scheme.

Alas, just as it was, rest most certainly did avail they them all.

Those more readied of the party swirled by intensity, burst in action, the graveyard from which each foot lie stirred and quaked of unearthly sighs. Dead men walk not of their own volition, those unaware learned so this day. Ser Brandt of all, veteran among the Dark Crusades had seen sights as these all too often, never an end to it all, so seemed.

"These walls a death-trap as good as any, we make for beyond them, open ground wouldst deliver us all of surprise!"

Gerhard's voice boomed as he weaved beyond the middling heighted half-dwarf as a gust, the large knight stroke forth through the portal into a realm which appeared wholly different than the morbid peace of the mass grave he first had come upon.

Stood there didst he, just 'fore the wooded threshold of their fortress, naught but hellscape therein lie greet. Festering carcass, sundered man and child, the still embering mort of women. All and more rose to their straps and feet and corroded boots to shamble for livened flesh. Yet the site more dreadful, the very skies a-blood, seemed they to weep and peel to crimson shade, every shadow deepened, every dark most umbral encroaching closer and closer still.

Perhaps at once the sudden comeuppance was all too much for even the most stalwart, the Lavasian knight's weary lids shut a moment fore, relative, the darkness that blankets the future on is even more so bleak. Crushing the dread, Ser Brandt unsheathes his blade of length from its side, taking the hilt in hands both, with a mighty stamp and cry he drives unease ever further.

" 'Tis naught a bed of flowers pure under morn's peace of first light, thus we cannot fall here or ever until then! Those of arms with me in form I ask! Stray not far, to be surrounded is to be as they."

Hoping his gruff voice breaks to each companion, the man drives a few steps forward, only a score in eight from the desecrated alehouse, with mercurial thrust, his steel enters and vacates a single gnawing skull in but a fluid motion, before peddling back toward the formation in his head.

Tired though he may be, to find the elder man ready to quit at the very beginning of darkness' fall, would be as to cleave the mightiest mountain. . .

As Darkness Fell - A dark fantasy story

I know we've but only begun, still if anyone cares to plan out interactions or relationships in the short or long-term, don't hesitate to PM me. . . I'm lonely.

As Darkness Fell - A dark fantasy story

Soooo many excellent posts for me to go over tonight. Keep it up everyone!

As Darkness Fell - A dark fantasy story

I believe you could always meet up with Kestrel, seeings as she's still about the bazaar, instead of adding even more greetings and timeline screwery to Mulad's table, haha.

As Darkness Fell - A dark fantasy story

Looks like we'd definitely need one to at least move on from here, can't wait to see how Mulad handles the sudden appearance of everyone at once, hehe. Hopefully there's assumed time between each so as there not to be an onslaught of greetings/questions.