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    1. Zugzwang 9 yrs ago

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I'm down to clown. Always up for some Fate fun.
The New War




On a winter's morning, 1148, God died.


The very concept seemed inconceivable to layperson and philosopher alike, but all were proven wrong alike. The God who had shepherded His people through the tribulations of their infancy and watched from on high like a proud Father as humanity spread its legs and thrived in ever-growing prosperity gave one last sacrifice to his people. He saved them from the jaws of hell-spawned hordes of uncountable hosts braying for the blood of humanity. With a flash that illuminated the sky for three days and three nights, the devils of the north were forever returned to their infernal dwellings. His Paschal Victory should have brought about an era of peace and stability, with Humanity’s ancient enemy vanquished and their safety secured, a new golden age to rival those which had come before. In His last message to His people, save for a secret word given to his closest apostles, the Lord of all the Heavens proclaimed that Humanity was to finally enter its next stage of existence.

Humanity entered its adulthood, but there was no golden age to be found.



Humanity looked for peace, but no good came. The scribes, priests and Paracletes which had studied and server the Almighty were left powerless. The laws of God lost their backing: slavery, theft, conquest, every forbidden fruit was sampled and found to be poisonous. The right to rule of Princes and Kings were torn to shred and set aflame as the God which had appointed them vanished. The power-hungry and ambitious, those who saw flaws in the Divine Order and sought to correct them, all grasped at the promises of glory and might. Meanwhile, the stones which bore his Name failed, and with them the infrastructure of nations fell apart. Animals ceased their annual congregations and changed their paths. Fields lost their bounty, animals slowed their breeding and predators once again swarmed the settled lands.

By 1152, one quarter of humanity lay dead or in chains.



And when those new scholars and kings, who sat atop the ruins of the last age, thought nothing more could hurt humanity, further death came wrapped in silk and sable. Voices from far beyond calling for rituals and sacrifices, perversions of the almost-forgotten sacraments of the Sacrificed Sovereign, came to the needy and the powerful alike. The rituals were completed, and bizarre creatures, perversions of nature and interlopers in the realm of humanity began to manifest. They introduced themselves as Angels, or Watchers, or Gods in their own right, and bore cataclysmic power sufficient to support their boasts. All sought something: power, glory, wealth, and with a whisper and a push the new kings set themselves against each other to prove the superiority of the benefactors who crooned in ears from deep shadows or sat on massive thrones in new-built cathedrals.

The great powers of the world, Iosia, Amburria, Idrez and Mordland, bit into each other with armies numbering in the tens of thousands. It seems humanity still had lives to waste. Doras and Romara beat each other to pieces while Mirkesh watched and waited. Perdon collapsed into civil war as the remaining nations were courted like the finest courtesans with chests full of gold and jewels.

By 1155, hundreds of thousands lay strewn on the fields of battle, and the nations of the world were without exception left without means to fight. The Angels presented their final gift: fragments of their power, their red blood poured from their very bodies. The power of Gods made manifest in Humanity, creating heroes of legends to throw once more into the fields of corpses.



It is 1158. Ten years have passed since the Sacrifice was made. The great ruling Angels have set their holds even tighter on the seats of power, and as their lesser hosts emerge in greater numbers they are either tasked upon the front line or cannibalized for Communion, to power more armies of Nephilim, the warriors imbued with the red liquid’s magic. Armies have shrunk, but the destruction is only growing greater, and slowly the cloying understanding that there is no easy end in sight is beginning to take hold. Armies once again mass to do their terrible battle, and only the wise weep.











The New War




On a winter's morning, 1148, God died.


The very concept seemed inconceivable to layperson and philosopher alike, but all were proven wrong alike. The God who had shepherded His people through the tribulations of their infancy and watched from on high like a proud Father as humanity spread its legs and thrived in ever-growing prosperity gave one last sacrifice to his people. He saved them from the jaws of hell-spawned hordes of uncountable hosts braying for the blood of humanity. With a flash that illuminated the sky for three days and three nights, the devils of the north were forever returned to their infernal dwellings. His Paschal Victory should have brought about an era of peace and stability, with Humanity’s ancient enemy vanquished and their safety secured, a new golden age to rival those which had come before. In His last message to His people, save for a secret word given to his closest apostles, the Lord of all the Heavens proclaimed that Humanity was to finally enter its next stage of existence.

Humanity entered its adulthood, but there was no golden age to be found.



Humanity looked for peace, but no good came. The scribes, priests and Paracletes which had studied and server the Almighty were left powerless. The laws of God lost their backing: slavery, theft, conquest, every forbidden fruit was sampled and found to be poisonous. The right to rule of Princes and Kings were torn to shred and set aflame as the God which had appointed them vanished. The power-hungry and ambitious, those who saw flaws in the Divine Order and sought to correct them, all grasped at the promises of glory and might. Meanwhile, the stones which bore his Name failed, and with them the infrastructure of nations fell apart. Animals ceased their annual congregations and changed their paths. Fields lost their bounty, animals slowed their breeding and predators once again swarmed the settled lands.

By 1152, one quarter of humanity lay dead or in chains.



And when those new scholars and kings, who sat atop the ruins of the last age, thought nothing more could hurt humanity, further death came wrapped in silk and sable. Voices from far beyond calling for rituals and sacrifices, perversions of the almost-forgotten sacraments of the Sacrificed Sovereign, came to the needy and the powerful alike. The rituals were completed, and bizarre creatures, perversions of nature and interlopers in the realm of humanity began to manifest. They introduced themselves as Angels, or Watchers, or Gods in their own right, and bore cataclysmic power sufficient to support their boasts. All sought something: power, glory, wealth, and with a whisper and a push the new kings set themselves against each other to prove the superiority of the benefactors who crooned in ears from deep shadows or sat on massive thrones in new-built cathedrals.

The great powers of the world, Iosia, Amburria, Idrez and Mordland, bit into each other with armies numbering in the tens of thousands. It seems humanity still had lives to waste. Doras and Romara beat each other to pieces while Mirkesh watched and waited. Perdon collapsed into civil war as the remaining nations were courted like the finest courtesans with chests full of gold and jewels.

By 1155, hundreds of thousands lay strewn on the fields of battle, and the nations of the world were without exception left without means to fight. The Angels presented their final gift: fragments of their power, their red blood poured from their very bodies. The power of Gods made manifest in Humanity, creating heroes of legends to throw once more into the fields of corpses.



It is 1158. Ten years have passed since the Sacrifice was made. The great ruling Angels have set their holds even tighter on the seats of power, and as their lesser hosts emerge in greater numbers they are either tasked upon the front line or cannibalized for Communion, to power more armies of Nephilim, the warriors imbued with the red liquid’s magic. Armies have shrunk, but the destruction is only growing greater, and slowly the cloying understanding that there is no easy end in sight is beginning to take hold. Armies once again mass to do their terrible battle, and only the wise weep.












In bweep 9 yrs ago Forum: Test Forum
I'm having second thoughts. It would be better for me to drop out, I think.
I'd be down with just about any of these. I could use something like this right about now, let me know if you're still looking for someone to write with.
>Imagawa
>Gundam
>Not the Giant Robo OVAs

You're missing out man. But regardless, I'm happy to put my interest in here. Seems like a good time.
What's the flavor here? My interest depends somewhat on the tone.

Pls tell me this game is Yasuhiro Imagawa goodness

If this game is Wuxia madness I will be so pleased.
Everybody hates this thread.
EDIT: I think I'm going to have to pull out of this one. Sorry for being a flake.
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