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/me pounds the floor

Finally, they reached the stairs and were out of the underground. Yisol smiles as his eyes adjust to the light.
Yisol inspects himself. He's filthy. The underground has so much dirt it's hard not to be caked in the muck, dust, and slime. As Yisol washes and changes, a smile suddenly curls his lips. "It's funny you know?" he shouts "When one goes to meet something detestably evil, it's always someplace underground."
Daiyu is about to answer when he cuts her off. "Why do you think that is?" Yisol points around his room. "Look at the beauty and splendour of this place. Clean. Organized. Bright. No darkness. No gloom." Yisol jumps into his seat. "When I am officially King and I am rid of those Salvations I will have to make changes about that."

"Oh, Sigurd..."

A light breeze whirled faintly, ever so slightly, waving through the hair of the one who spoke out loud the name of the forgotten one. The acknowledgement from mortals would not go unnoticed by the gods, or the ancient ones. Sigurd, the ancestor of the Vikings of Iskjerne Bay, was all but a distant memory and myth to the people who were still living. Yet even now, the very mention of his name out loud was suffice enough to summon a very faint response. It wasn't much, as a single dry and dead leaf fluttered in the wind, twirling through the air past Uhtred the Godless, going randomly in no particular direction. This alone was suffice enough. As the battle for Iskjerne Bay seemed neverending, still there was no answer, no magical help from the other side of Hel.

If ever there was any hope for the Vikings, then a new leader would need to take responsibility and support the efforts made by those of the distant past. Livia and Ragnar seemed unstoppable, even despite the betrayal/loyalty of some of the ulfhednar who appeared to be fighting amongst themselves. Blood and tears, a very hard and strategic uphill effort by the Iskjerne Vikings who were statistically out-numbered, lacking the technology or advantages of such a powerful political army. But what could be said of it? The Vikings themselves had started their campaign, outnumbered and against all odds. Yet they put up a huge and epic fight for survival, battle after battle against superior forces time and time again. There was never any shame in that, for they were always doomed, predestined by the Norns, ever since a few generations ago when Ulfric Ellrulfsson paved their destiny. They should have never even lasted this long, and yet they gave everything. They gave their all, for a future that some already knew was unattainable.

Uhtred himself obviously watched from a safe distance away, having a lot of thoughts and much to say probably that he kept to himself. But it's much easier to watch from far away and judge than it is to be the people involved in the fighting itself. At that moment of realization, Uhtred the Godless must have wondered to himself if he was even worthy enough to utter Sigurd's name, as Livia and Ragnar pressed forward against King Finehair and his remnant army, slaughtering and conquering everyone in their path, including those who betrayed them. Ragnar himself was the son of Sigurd Hring, and this too would not go unnoticed by the titans who judged everyone equally according to their deeds, and not by their own thoughts or what was said. Opportunity was everywhere, as King Harald himself had still not given up hope, and adjusted his armor, preparing to meet his adversaries face to face. Uhtred the Godless must have wondered in the back of his own mind how he could compare to such bravery, or make a name for himself during the midst of all this chaos.

Was he completely Romanized? Or was he still a Dane? That was something Uhtred the Godless would have to decide for himself, without Sigurd's interaction. As he stood there, watching from a safe distance away, Uhtred had his own small army no less, standing behind him and awaiting his orders. Among them were some familiar names and faces, but who were they? Were they Heathen vikings on the side of King Harald, or Christian vikings on the side of the Argosians? Perhaps that was the irony and fate predestined by Sigurd long ago, from someone so ahead of his time that he had actually already planned it all out before vanishing into oblivion, only to breathe slightly once again as his name was whispered into the fading wind. Uhtred the Godless had been acknowledged by the gods, in total irony despite his seemingly calm demeanor. But now he would have to stop being neutral and start making a name for himself if he wanted to keep his favor amongst them. Uhtred the Godless was faced with a difficult choice.

Destiny is all...

Hima

His fury catches Hima totally by surprise, "I didn't uh..." is all she can get out. His anger has him speaking in a tongue that she isn't familiar with before he returning to one that she does understand.

"Someone like me?!..." his anger causes her to fall backwards landing on her rear trying desperately to scoot away. As he rages in anger.
Hima's faces twinges in panic, her breath hiccuping from her mouth, her head flailing left-and-right then back to center, all she can muster is a series of broken words and phrases, "I'm so... I didn...uh...I'm... No..." She continues scooting back into an obelisk that she climbs against wobbling to her feet. This is the second misunderstanding they've had and she's sure this could easily be the last time.

Finally, the creature ceases his angered fury at her. She watches, frightened and awed by the creature as a few final puffs of smoke flare from his nostrils. "Sleep now. We shall move in the morning."

Hima hesitantly leans toward her bag, crying as she picks it up. She never meant it as an insult, nor did she think he was some sort of mindless, sociopathic assassin. She opens her mouth for a brief second to explain herself, but decides against it. She decides it best not to take a chance on infuriating him again. Taking her bag, still crying, she drops her daggers on the road and slogs away to the other side of the obelisk, sits on the ground and cries.
It's been a long time since she has cried, she's found it unnecessary and counterproductive to cry. But, in this case the fear she just felt combined with the guilt she feels for having unintentionally insulted him has left her little alternative. As she cries, she thinks about what he said; how there were people who had slaughtered dragons for their teeth and tongues. How so many had been wiped out. Those were not the stories she had heard from the tellers in her younger years. The stories she heard were of gallant warriors riding off to save villages from marauding evil dragons.
She takes a few sobby breaths, turns over on her knees and out from the protection of the obelisk. Opening her pouch, she pulls out her part of the map, "Here," she says through her tears and throws the paper in his direction. "I'm sau... sau... sorry for what ha...hap...happened. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." she slides back behind the obelisk. "A woman in the village who was dying told me its part of the map to the scroll." she yells out from her position. "I know you hate me because I'm human. I do wanna help you. I really do. But...I understand why you hate me. And if you're gone come dawn... welll... good luck. I'm not even sure it really leads to the scroll. But, if it does... I was fine before I had it and I'll be fine if you take it."

Hima returns to crying and clutching her bag tightly against her body. She decides that the map probably means more to him than it does to her. She knows he didn't kill all these people and whoever did is a greater threat to her than him. If it was that group that passed by earlier that slaughtered the village, they'd have a much easier time snatching it from her than they would from him.

Ethan Knox ~ Hestia ~ #8B4513
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heath Taylor ~ Athena ~ #808000
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iliana Remington-Taylor ~
Demeter ~ #4A766E
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Penelope Givens ~ Hermes ~ #483D8BAndy answered, only to remind Iliana of Nelly. Iliana turned back to the redhead to see her collapsed on the ground. Mentally cursing her own condition, Iliana dragged herself back over to Nelly just as she saw more campers arrive. It didn't matter to her who showed up, she was just glad that they were still alive. Refocusing on Nelly, she checked her pulse and she had one, much to her relief. She should check her injury, and even though it was still dark out, she could feel that the shirt was damp with blood for Nelly was laying on her stomach.

This was how Heath found his sister. He miraculously found the main hall and from there made it to the arena. His head was still killing him but seeing the condition of some of the other campers upon entering the arena, he got off easily. He was quick to notice the tents too and medical supplies. Soon he spotted his sister and a passed-out Nelly. Relieved, he approached them.

"Lia, how are you?"

Iliana looked up to see Heath as he bent down on the other side of Nelly.

"I hurt my knee, but other than being tired, I am okay. Nelly apparently got bit by a snake and lost some blood. Her shirt is covering the wound. I want to check her injury, but I can't do it on my own. She needs fresh bandages. I wish I had some of my healing ointment."

Keeping his cool, Heath nodded. He knew how to do basic first aid and had read up on what to do in emergencies too, but never really put it into practice. He just hoped Nelly didn't need stitches since he had no knowledge of that.

"Let me get some medical supplies. I'll be right back." he said before getting up.

Returning, he and Iliana worked together to patch Nelly up better, who remained unconscious throughout the whole procedure. Her injury hadn't been too serious, but the bite was deep. It didn't look like she was poisoned from what either could tell since the skin wasn't swollen. It must have been a big snake too since the distance between to the 2 puncture wounds were almost 6 inches apart, at least from what Heath could tell. After finishing up, Heath took Nelly to one of the tents and put her inside of one. The best thing she needed was rest until Cherise could help her. Iliana said she'd make some of her healing ointment to help Nelly as well as anyone else.

"Okay sis, time to help you out. Let's get you seated somewhere. You can tell me how you got hurt so I have a better idea." Heath said before picking his sister up and putting her on one of the bleachers so he could inspect her knee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan acknowledged Veronica's request. He did need to get Daniel help asap and while he did feel guilty leaving Veronica behind, he felt slightly better that someone was sticking with her. Seemed like new people were still showing up. Now he wouldn't wonder about it. As he led the horse to the arena, he thought about recent events, especially tonight. Considering he wasn't the fighting type, he thought he did decently, but what about next time, if there was. Why was he really here? The answer was simple, to help Heath with Iliana. Before tonight's event, it seemed like Iliana was trying to do more things on her own, considering she wanted to train with Nicholas. Did she really need his help anymore? Thought of it left him reeling a bit and he would have pursued that line of thinking if he hadn't come upon the arena just then.

Feeling relieved, he entered the arena to see a good number of campers there, including Heath and Iliana. As much as he wanted to check on them, his first priority was Daniel, who was still out of it. A cursory glance didn't reveal Andy anywhere. Considering Daniel's condition, maybe it was a good thing she wasn't around. Being careful, he managed to get Daniel off of the horse and ease him on the ground as carefully as possible, even though it was a struggle. Then he went about seeing to any injuries he could manage.

Is anyone here?

Hi!!

/say hey i'm layla but my close friends call me lay :)

/say hi

/say bis später

Je m’appeles Sobraxus. Et toi?

/say *just walking around*

/say Hello

Intergalactic News Network

Your Source for Intergalactic News

!

This is Lorbloo Nuurk, reporting LIVE from just outside Gambit's Bar. Nobody can tell how it happened, and nobody knows where anyone went, that fateful day every single person within Gambit's Bar disappeared into what seemed like thin air. Yes, even the staff! Magical beings, robo-types, and humanoids alike just gone. But, to where? Are they still alive?

Gambit's Bar

Originally a run-down shack of a dive, Gambit's Bar has grown over the years into one of Wing City's most popular attractions.

More questions than answers have arisen from the scene, whether or not a crime has been performed has yet to be determined. The WCPD suspects foul play but have seemingly nobody to blame. Many have speculated that this disappearance will be tacked onto the charges accrued by Zosimos of the Vankoryth Detente, however they haven't been officially named or associated with the incident to any official degree. Others are pointing fingers at the Aschen, but that theory is easily debunked with the remembrance of the treaties. We've reached out to Detente and Aschen officials, neither of which have offered comment on the circumstance other than to claim dissociation.

Inside Gambit's Bar, the discovery of a strange black sparkly void dust has officials concerned. All persons permit access to Gambit's Bar have been advised to not touch the void dust. I repeat, do not touch the void dust. Eyewitness reports claim that prior to the disappearance, a strange red glow had occupied the windows of Gambit's Bar - others claim it was just a local brown out, and that the light was playing tricks on their eyes.

While investigations continue, the Intergalactic News Network will be stationed here to report on whatever- and whoever -is found to be complicit in this mass disappearance. Stay tuned!

Echo sat down at the bar that was situated at the front of the guild. Bored, she took a sip of the ale that sat in front of her. The Guild was uncharacteristically quiet for this time of year

Slowly pacing through the library, Stockton steps past the rows of shelves. His eyes carefully watched his surroundings, scanning back-and-forth along the cases filled with books and the several upturned tables.

His gut felt like it was burning. He very sincerely wished he had brought a pistol, or at least something he could stab with. I'm never first to the scene. He takes a moment to stare at a neat, head-sized hole burned horizontally through a bookshelf, the edges of the interior still smoldering. I usually cause this kind of s... Nevermind. I need a firearm.
He walks over to one of the books on the ground, quickly crouching down to grab it. He flips to the very end, where the extraneous papers are, and carefully tears it out as quickly as he can. Withdrawing the pen from his shirt, he raises a knee to serve as a surface. Glancing around and stepping behind the poor cover of a shelf, he sketches out a shape, then fills in the details with smaller symbols.

He takes a deep breath, then tears the page in half. In the brief moment that the paper takes to split into rough, jagged halves, there's a space of nothing. He uses this moment, shoving his hand into the rift, withdrawing a handgun. There's a still-smoldering scorch marked into the slide, which he quickly inspects. Should still function.

He ignores the sudden wave of nausea that strikes him a few seconds later, the aftereffects of using raw, broken magic. It always felt like somebody was twisting his stomach into knots, and doing it often enough could cause him to black out.
He avoided that the best he could.

He chambers a round in the pistol, a Wildebeest .44.
Damn. Guess it's time to roll.

Wilhelm Killing felt the fibers of fundamental physics shifting and shuddering, and immediately snapped to attention.

Well I'll be... what an intriguing phenomenon!

he exclaimed, to no one in particular, before getting lost in otherworldly investigations of his own machination.

In the midst of the jubilant crowd, a Schwarzesloch officer discreetly approached the stage, giving it a casual pat to capture Rigel's attention without causing a scene. Rigel turned his head and waved a hand to the crowd before he briskly approached the edge of the stage, reciprocating the officer's salute with his own.

"Report," he muttered, hands casually clasped behind his back.

"Sir, we've spotted unfamiliar faces—appeared to be a scouting party," the officer reported.

Rigel's tone turns to something of dismissive amusement with a light chuckle, "And why's that a problem, exactly?" he questioned.

"Sir?" the officer replied, clearly a bit bewildered wavering slightly in his posture as his hand falters.

"Don't pretend there's cause for worry; guilty of something, are we?" Rigel's tone grew a tad harsher as he lowered himself to the officer's eye level.

"Well, no, sir, we—" the officer started, his voice shaky until Rigel playfully interrupted with a pat on the head.

"Relax. If they swing by again, weeeell, we'll extend a proper welcome—welcomes, handshakes, toss in a few drinks on the house and exchange pleasantries as usual, eh?" Rigel chuckled, pointing a finger playfully. "Ay, ayy? Whether they accept or not, grab a drink yourself, you deserve it. You're dismissed."

"S-sir? Yes, sir!" the officer responded enthusiastically before heading off. Rigel returned to the mic with unbroken confidence in his step, leaning over the mic and holding his arm up to get the crowd's attention.

"Well, this is unexpected. Just got word that we might be graced by some rather interesting guests! Let's give them the finest Noble welcome, shall we?"

Haruka cast a wary glance around the surroundings before cautiously trailing behind Volare, her steps hesitant and laced with nervous energy. The prospect of encountering a corpse was not one she felt prepared for, yet the pull to find her brother above prevailed over her unease. As her eyes shifted between the looming unknown and the visibly anxious Volare, a unique sense of responsibility overcame her own fear. Despite the chilling uncertainty, she couldn't shake the conviction that, somehow, she needed to be there for Volare in this disconcerting moment. She also looked over at Jack, then down at Eques and tilted her head.

"I've never before met a feline esper before," she projected the thought directly to Eques, but wasn't quite sure if that'd even work. She was testing on a hunch more than anything. She hasn't even really had much experience outside of her aunt who's teachings are clearly more about feeling it out than any concrete lessons. "Or... maybe I'm mistaken and staring awkwardly at a cat like a crazy person..?"

███████ ████ - 08██
██/██/██97
████ ██-██
"██████ ██ ███████"
███████ Status: ACTIVE
████ Status: 1 VER. DECEASED, 1 PRES. CAPTURED

They were undoubtedly all going to die here. There wasn't anything they could do to delay or stop that.
Kicker caught a disruptor bolt to the throat, the heat instantly melting the armored covering and searing the flesh underneath it, giving him a split moment to reach up before going limp. Shield releases his rifle and darts over to check on his co-captain, narrowly ducking under the next volley and behind, only to be met by the arriving CSU from the rear.

As the atmosphere fully exits the docks, Valiant finds his SAW rendered useless, the gas-blowback system rendered inert. Throwing his PK2 down to strike the dock floor, he raises his arms and steps toward the Aschen troops. One of the disruptor rounds strikes him in the thigh, causing him to stumble forward and end up in a half-kneeling position, arms still clenched behind his head.

Shield looks blankly through his faceplate at the returning security agents, holding his officer in his arms. With another few seconds of hesitation, he pulls Kicker's SR-9 from his hip and places it against his comrade's faceplate, sending a high-caliber round through the helmet of the man in a second, then through his own the next. Both of them go slack, their limp forms half-floating in the zero-gravity environment, secured to the 'ground' only by the soles of their magnetic locks.

About eight seconds pass before the bodies of the two team leaders inflate underneath their armor, the explosive charges cracking the interior and causing blood to seep out in a cloud from the holes punched in their helmets.

4,000 Miles Away, closing distance.
Marauder-6, secondary reinforcement team. Message from OVERWATCH reads as follows.
██/██/██97
MARAUDER-6
Secure Status: FAILED
ALL Status: 3 VER. DECEASED, 2 PRES. CAPTURED
OVERWATCH TO SUPPORT, WITHDRAW, DO NOT- REPEAT- DO NOT REINFORCE, HEAVY CASUALTIES. LANDING UNSECURE, MISSION FAILURE. PROBE TEAM MET HEAVY RESPONSE, MISSION FAILURE. OUTMATCHED.

GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOU.

The mining vessel quickly decelerates from FTL, coming to a slow halt moments later.
Inside, the team of forty sit quietly after the synthetic voice flashes over comms.
"Does that mean we can go home?"
"I don't know."


Around six minutes later, the mining barge floats in a cloud of debris, ripped into jagged halves.

Hey

Wilhelm Killing stood up, dusted himself off, and set off in a trot towards the tavern.

Cordelia hesitated, her gaze shifting uneasily between Jinn and Librarian Yulin. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and she directed her attention to Jinn, her earlier composure now replaced with visible nervousness, exacerbated by the mention of OttO.

"OttO... that is— he is not my— you cannot simply make peace with a being who— I... want to one day return to this plane, permanently. I want... we Nix want... but the Unmaker wants to baptize this land with his Untime, his own brand of peace," she stammered, her voice trembling with anxiety. Bowing her head, she began to recite something under her breath, a murmured mantra of sorts. "You misunderstand me! I am not unfeeling, indifferent. I just can't... I can't let how I feel jeopardize everything! There's a greater cause than you realize because, for me I— imbalances will always happen, but if there's nothing to return to, then what is the point?"

With that, she turned and bowed again, then walked to the room prepared for her. However, her motions were more unsteady and heavier than before. Despite her earlier attempts to convey confidence, it was evident that she was struggling with a number of things.

/say Hello

/say

Bruh! I just came from the north, fine south then!

Kyren Sullenfall heads toward the tavern, his first stop.

Kyren Sullenfall settled in, laughing subtly at the inquiry, feeding into his braggadocio.

Oh, only the biggest of beasts that Gaia has, you know. There's nothing like a GARGANTUA to slay after it's been tyrannizing a poor little farm village!

he chortled.

Kyren slurped into his Arcane Ale, hefting the glass into the air with a deep draw on the glass.

"You are very bold, to show yourself to me."

"You are very patient and gracious, to not smite me where I stand."

The two Elder Dragons stared at each other. Irral, the Dragon Champion of Light. Light's first born Son, and most powerful Champion of her will. Draco, Lord of Darkness, corrupted and healed by his own magic, powerful well beyond his years. Each wore his armor - Irral's own armor a crisp Alabaster and Gold, pure and radiant, and Draco's dark, brooding armor of Midnight Black and Blood Red. Their weapons were sheathed, but were ready to spring into action at a moments notice.

"You by now have sensed it yourself." Draco started. "She is back."

Irral nodded slowly, his eyes searching for the slightest movement from Draco that would denote an attack. So far he saw none. "I have. Your mother's return is troubling. More so if it worries you, who already killed her so many years ago." he stated.

The landscape around them rumbled with their combined presence, and then silenced. The grassland they'd met in very literally portrayed the differences between them. One one side, where Irral stood, the grass was tall, golden, and the flowers were in full bloom. A deer pranced away in the distance. Where Draco stood, the grass lay dead against the earth. Blackened as if burned, the flowers were wilted, a deer lay dying from corruption.

"What would you have me do? Join you in a crusade against your own mother? Only for you to do what? Stab me in the back at the end of the battle? Corrupt my soul again and once more turn me into a grieving, disease-ridden, disgusting human?" Irral's temper flared, and a breeze shook the grass around him.

Draco was silent for a moment before speaking in answer. "No. I would have you finish her off if I am unable to do so myself. Swoop in at the last moments of my life, purify my own soul before killing her. At least that way I can die in peace, rather than decompose, and exist as a soul once more until I find a suitable host once more, or my body regenerates."

Draco's own cursed abilities not only corrupted everything around him, it corrupted him as well. As a result, he was unable to die through non-holy or purifying means. His body and soul each could be torn asunder, beaten back into nothing, and destroyed in their entirety. He would still survive, and continue to spread his influence until he is cleansed of his own corruption, and allowed to finally die.

The Wolf Queen didn't want her pet to die so easily when she granted him his powers. She did a fantastic job of doing so. Too well. He inevitably killed her, too, and even went on to face The Light herself, his body and soul being separated for a million years before he was powerful enough in his Ethereal body to break the sealing magic around his body, and inhabit his shattered, empty husk of a carcass once more.

Irral considered the Shadow Dragon King's offer, and then nodded. "Very well. I shall inform the All-Mother of your decision. In the mean time, expect to be watched. You will not receive help from the Guardians of Light, nor should you expect any. In such a time that you are near death, I will cleanse you of your corruption, and allow you to pass on. But it will not be peaceful."

"Then we are agreed. Farewell, Champion of Light."

"Farewell, Cursed Shadow King."

Irral vanished in a flash of glorious, beautiful golden light, and Draco melted in upon his own body, a puddle of black sludge forming as his form melted into the landscape. The sludge then sank into the earth, leaving that particular area entirely dead, while the wildlife and rest of the world began to recover immediately.

A deal between two great Elder Dragons was made. But only time would tell if it would be honored.

Linus Trucidabunt surprised himself when he grabbed Carmen's hand back.

The Stjorndrekr drifted slowly through outer Space, entering the Fantasia Galaxy after traversing through millions and millions of light-years and light-miles of gas clouds and dark matter at the speed of cosmic sound, with some assistance from Gaian magic. This small but magnificent space-faring dragon ship was one of three twin vessels or sister ships. Whereas the Stjornhestr returned to Bastion IV, and the Stjornkona headed for Dedelion, the legendary Stjorndrekr had left the galaxy completely and the Empyrean Norsemen on board had just set a record for being the crew and passengers of the most distant Gaian Norse vessel in the universe. The reason why the Empyrean Norsemen had traveled so far, along with the Sjoalfar who accompanied them was still a mystery. But it had taken weeks, months, even a few years for the Stjorndrekr to arrive as it drifts quietly through the Fantasia Galaxy, undetectable by radio, satellite, computer, phone, radar, or most forms of communication as the Stjorndrekr had no electricity and gave off very little if any signature, being only 1/3rd the size of most other transport buses, enterprises and shuttle ships. Although the Stjorndrekr had its own on board built-in ecosystem, 13 escape shuttles and an arsenal of weapons and armour capable of engaging in intergalactic warfare with a crew of 500 or more Vikings, it resembled a classic sea-faring Viking longship, with a sci-fi/steampunk twist, being moderate or humble in size but decoratively elaborate in appearance as it descended towards the Talmora System, making no sound whatsoever as it continued its most linear trajectory to one of the furthest points in the local universe. The dragon-prowed longship gave off no light of its own, only reflecting the distant stars with its silver and gold manufacturing as it hovered quietly, sailing through Fantasia.

Meteor was a speck in the night sky of the forested planet, and falling.