Lords of Rock

The Rockaverse

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a part of Lords of Rock, by Nulix.

The Land of Plenty

Nulix holds sovereignty over The Rockaverse, giving them the ability to make limited changes.
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Setting

A Rock Hard Land for Rock Hard Men.

The Rockaverse

The Land of Plenty

Minimap

The Rockaverse is a part of Lords of Rock.

24 Characters Here

Syra Onnet [101] A thrall who seeks more from life.
Captain Ash [22] A man gone wild, either by lust, by wars, or by the desert sun. Or maybe he's just clinically insane.
M'Kama [14] Life and death, two sides of the same coin. With that in mind, he crafts his own luck.
londy [6]
Neko stacy [6] I am sweet and loving, i protect and comfort
Mathis Gladys45 [6] New
lauraine [4] Today most of the people from all over the world are using the internet from different devices like PC, Laptop or smartphone etc.The internet has given birth to many online crimes, known as cyber-crimes, created by expert hackers. As each and every detail
Radio Box [2] Buying Guide & Reviews Portal

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M'Kama knocked once more, this time adding, "Thelloni, are you home? This is M'Kama of the Yybal. I was apart of your excavation team out east several years ago."

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Price gave an appreciative nod to the girl at the desk as he took a seat in the lobby. Was a lovely place all in all, much like many of the mansions and palaces of Sor, Ulfire, and now the Matran. Reminded him of what he left behind...

_____________________________________________________________


Ash's face lit up as Otis finally stirred. "Otis old boy! Finally returned to us!" He exclaimed as he ran over to the unsteady young man. "Far too much as happened. You got shot, if you couldn't tell, and we've been ah..." The Captain looked up to the canon. "Well, we've been fairly busy since that." Ash went into explaining the battle that had broken out, and how he wasn't exactly sure what set it off, but that it may have been one of Arubak's trigger happy men.

"That, or that woman who walked in on our meeting about the bullets. Well... Perhaps there's one other person..." He trailed off for a moment before looking at the others. "M'Kama wasn't on the battlefield with us, at any point. I don't know where he is or where he went, but I know he wasn't in that battle."

Ash went quiet as he let Otis take in the information he had relayed, looking once more to Horik and Syra, and also waiting to get some input from Seru. "We do need to locate some place we can stay safe, especially with the canon. Not sure I like the idea of waiting here though, feels to exposed. Anyone have any other thoughts or ideas?"

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#, as written by Nulix
The barking continued but at M'kama's words the beast was silenced. Locks could be heard releasing from the other side of the door before the wood swung open. A tall greyhound stood in the open doorway, it's tongue hanging happily. "M'kama," An aged voice spoke. A white man with matching hairs in a velvet robe opened the door weakly, his hands shaking and wrinkled. He squinted at the Yyb. "I... I was expecting Minister Nark. You... how did you find my address?"

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M'Kama knelt down and patted the hound on the head. "I tend to know things. The cards tell all..." he began mysteriously. "...I just looked at the mailboxes, really," he admitted, standing up. "How are you, Thelloni? I can return at a later time if you're expecting company but, I bring with myself some very urgent business."

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"IS it concerning the Minister?" The old man said stupidly. "Minister Nark?!"

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"I don't know Minister Nark!" M'Kama exclaimed. "But I do know someone that needs a narc-ing. It involves your government....are you interested?"

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The elderly man cowered in fear as M'kama threatened him. "My boy, with Minister Nark at large I cannot do a thing! What is it that you want?!"

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"Your Empire is missing a gun, Thelloni. Assuming they want it back...I may know just how to find it," M'Kama leaned against the wall, relaxed. "I know your mining work has put you in good standing with key figures in the Matranical rebellion. But why not aim even higher and solve their problem for them?"

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Thelloni looked up at M'kama and his hired thug in a mask with great fear and disdain. "Hmph," He curmudgeoned. "Fine... come in..."

The Rockian scum entere the elder Matranical man's apartment- fine carpets, decorative wallpapers from at least ten years passed, and exquisitely crafted furniture- all barely visible amongst the sea of papers and artifacts littering the home. Rockian artifacts from all over, ranging from the priceless to useless toys one might buy at a market- hoarded piles high.

A black cat meowed from somewhere in the mess as Thelloni navigated through toward the kitchen. "Do... do make yourselves at home," He said. "You've... you were among the brightest of the hired hands we had on the dig. Gotten yourself involved with that... bloody artillery, have you, M'kama?"

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M'Kama stood up and entered through the door, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Involved...Yes, I supposed that would be the word for it," M'Kama mused. "I've seen the devastation it can enable without it so much as firing a single shot. It cannot stay here and it cannot be destroyed...Lest we incur the wrath of the nation it hails from."

M'Kama planted an elbow on the table, resting his cheek on his fist. "I would like your help in making sure the Matran takes their weapon back...without bringing the people of the Rock to harm."

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The apartment was thick, sweaty- the musk of the desert inside it despite the best efforts of the rotating iron fan on the table. "Oh, no, no," Thelloni began, returning with a cup of tea in hand and sitting opposite M'kama and Falcon, his face mostly blocked by clutter. "I've not been able to get a meeting with the embassy in weeks, my boy. Haven't even been able to talk to someone to retrieve my mail from home! Minister Nark has the entire embassy on alert, he's looking for... Matranical dissidents... that gun has been a bloody disaster, for all. " Thelloni paused. "Nark is there... interventionist expert, he arrived at the embassy the day after the sceptre went missing."

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M'Kama sat up. This was odd...he didnt spot such a figure with the Knights. In fact they had willingly allied themselves with local powers, Zambob and his cultists at that. "Wait...Matranical dissidents?" M'Kama questioned. "It's confirmed that the cause of crash came from someone within the Matran itself then? Have there been any rumors amongst your people?'

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"We're not being told anything, but all Matranical citizens here in the Horenor are certainly being treated like suspects," Thelloni replied with a sigh. Thelloni glanced up. "He took me in, asked me questions about my work here, my expedition, my knowledge of the sceptre. The archeological digs I've conducted. He let me go but by the end I think I knew what Nark was after... who he thinks caused that... terrible starship accident," Thelloni leaned in across the cluttered table. "He's hunting for spies."

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Spies....Interesting. Useful. But not without more context. "In that case, my friend, I have three more questions...." M'Kama began. "Where is this Bark currently housed, what what hours does he begin his manhunts....and who do you think is his primary culprit...?"

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"The Matranical Embassy," The elderly kook farted. Suddenly, a knock at the door. The elder glanced at M'kama hesitantly. "Were you followed?"

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"Not to my knowledge...." M'Kama sat up. "But, if you weren't expecting guests...perhaps it's best if we remain unseen for the time being," M'Kama nodded at Falcon before he made his way to another room in Thelloni's place of residence.

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After another knock the door to Thelloni's apartment swung open, only to hit a pile of the hoarder's junk and swing back on the intruder. "Ow!" They exclaimed as it hit them in the nose. A ratty grey cat, one of the many animals that lived among the mess of Thelloni's apartment, leapt from one pile, of artifacts, to another, of stacked books at the disturbance.

"Henlo?!" Thelloni called weakly from the dining room. The front door swung open again, a short, plumply red haired Skylander wearing the armour of the Horenor guard entering with a bloodied nose. "Lady Lucky, Horenor Militia," Lucky introduced, pulling their short-sword out as they looked over the mess. Their eyes narrowed at the old man. "Where are they?" The grey cat ran between their feet, through an unseen maze of mess, before entering the guest bedroom door that was cracked open. Lucky galred at the elderly Matranical man before stepped toward the bedroom. THey swung it open to reveal M'kama and Falcon, barely able to fit in the room. The grey cat rubbed between their legs...

***

Suddenly there was a rustling on the still dunes above the lords of Rock. Ash, Horik and Seru went on alert- they were not exactly a subtle target, the giant if not now sand covered cannon an easy to spot landmark in the flat stretch of desert they inhabited. There was silence for a moment, the only sound the burning of the campfire ambers, their shadows stretching long against the scratched artillery metal, and then- a voice- a subtle one, speaking perhaps in disbelief.

"Seru?"

From the top of a dune a figure emerged, nearly falling down as he approached. His body was raggedy and he looked dehydrated beyond belief. His face was one that only Seru recognized well, though perhaps the others who had been in Schittle would remember him in passing- Bones, looking as though he had just walked a few days through the desert by foot. In fact, he had.

Bones collapsed as he descended the dune, falling toward the group.

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"Is there a problem?" M'Kama sighed, having hoped to avoid trouble thus far in the city, if he could help it. He and Falcon certainly didn't need any extra eyes on themselves. Especially if the next step was going after this Narc.

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"I'm investigating the brutalization of a man in Pondark Way, a Mister Leander Snart," Lucky frowned. "The guards stationed at the scene of the crime gave me your description. What's your name, deadlander?"

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"He tried to stab me, but I'm certain they left that out," M'Kama sighed. "If you must know, my name is Can'Teen Emp'Teaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa," he explained. "If you want to process me correctly, I suggest you do your job and jot down all 72 A's."

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"Okay, I mean that's horseshit," Lucky responded innocently. "Why don't you surrender or I'm going to kick you right in the johnson!"

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"Alright..." M'Kama stepped forward, holding his hands out in surrender. "In case you're unaware, there's a sword strapped to my back. You may want to get rid of that, but you'll find that to be a bad idea, so it must stick with me."

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Several Weeks Prior -

A light mist poured across the rolling mountain tops of some forgotten and distant land, on a distant and forgotten planet. The light of the early morning sun glimmered through, giving the fog a faint, yet radiant glow. The green grass and lichens, as well as the hodgepodge of rocks, were all coated in a light film of morning dew, but remained ready in anticipation for a rainstorm that was gently meandering to the mountains.

The faint echo of a famous Chaldenian orchestral piece from long ago could be heard emanating from one particular mountain top. What recreated these magical sounds was an old gramophone, sat upon a dark oak table, inlaid with bits of brass decor, and intricate carvings of famous Sorillian design. For added stability, the table sat upon a large slab of marble that made up a large, square patio. Beside it were other furnishings of similar make and design, some Sorillian, and others more foreign.

One particularly ornate table sat the most centrally, with beautiful carvings across its surface that depicted a gloriously triumphant battle by the Sorillian army, encased in a smooth, protective surface of golden amber. It was more resilient than glass would be for such a table, and helped ensure the artistic beauty was preserved to the greatest extent possible.

Situated at the table was a tea set, piping hot and freshly brewed, a radio that lightly crackled with life, and a singular chair. The chair itself was, as expected, exquisitely extravagant. Dark oak wood, red velvet upholstering, a tall back, and firm arm rests, all suitable to a king.

The light clinking sound of a spoon stirring in a china cup started up as the chair’s occupant began to prepare his tea. Just a little sugar added to enhance the taste, one of the few indulgences he would permit himself. Smoking, liquor, intoxicants, they were all ways to tarnish and blemish the body, and he simply refused to endure that.

Steam poured over the edges of the cup, eager to join the mist that hugged the surface of the mountain top. The man sighed lightly as he gazed upon all that was before him; the mountains, the cliffs, the valley’s, rivers, lakes. He took it all in as he sipped at his tea. “Magnificent. And truly, truly marvelous.” He softly spoke.

Maximillian Haterius Axius, or more likely better known by his titles; The Black Knight, or The Hell Knight. The first title, it could be speculated, may represent his choice of attire, or perhaps his past, primary occupations. The second title however, may more likely be attributed to what he can do.

Maximillian was a handsome man, about 5’10”, with short, tidy blonde hair that could be befitting of a noble. Maximillian was repulsed by most military cuts, and equally as repulsed by long, flowing hair. He liked his at a more charming, gentlemanly cut on the medium side of short. His skin was fair, a light creamy color, evenly toned across his body with no blotches of pink or red, even on his cheeks. Not only this, but across his entire person, there was not one scar, mole, birth mark, or blemish. Almost every inch of him was flawless, almost inhumanly so.

The one and only abnormality was, unfortunately, one of the most glaring. His left eye. The sclera could scarcely be called the ‘white’ of his eye anymore. It was entirely blood red, with not a hint of paleness surviving. The iris too seemed non-existent, having deformed into a black color that effectively merged it (at least appearance wise) with the pupil.

Maximillian wore a Black Uniform, something that seemed vaguely Sorillian, but also very clearly not. It certainly was an artifact of that part of his past, when he served Sor, but had no official linkages to their official uniforms. This is perhaps a small part of why he was able to transition into a "new army" with little resistance.

He gently tapped his fingers across the dark surface of his helmet, patiently awaiting word back from informants. Old loyalists of Oblivion and his army. He took a sip from his tea, savoring the deep flavors of the dark brown liquid, a proper black tea brew. Maximillian reminisced on the past as his mind already planned for the future.

A louder crackling sound emanated from the radio before a voice could be heard.
“My Lord, we’ve had eyes on the target. Can confirm that it is indeed real, and is still on The Rock, for the moment at least.”

“Excellent work gentlemen. You do us all proud, and I’ll see to it you’re rewarded for your efforts. I’m going to personally investigate this further, stand down for now and stay out of sight. I’ll be arriving in a few short weeks.” Maximillian smiled softly, belying the excitement he felt knowing the canon was real.

“Understood My Lord. Hail to Victory!”

“Hail to Victory.” He signed off and clicked off the radio. Maximillian finished off his tea as two attendants approached to stand next to him. “Please ready my ship, I’ll be departing immediately.” They gave a quick salute and left the mountain top, towards a landing pad that held Maximillian’s personal craft.

Once he was finished his tea, he stood and returned his helmet to his head. “It’s been quite some time since I last set foot on The Rock.” He muttered to himself. “I expect this shall be quite the interesting return.”


_____________________________________________________________


Ash looked at the severely battered body that fell towards the group, and unholstered his revolver for security. “You know this gentleman Miss Seru?” He asked as he cautiously approached the body. “If so, I’d suggest you grab some water quickly. He’s looking quite worse for wear.” The Captain rolled the man over so he lay on his back, exposing the patchwork of bruises, cuts, sun burns, and other types of weathering from whatever journey he endured.

“Might want to grab some of that Snake Venom of yours too by the looks of it.”

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"Wait, you didn't put in any of that... venom in me, did you?" Otis asked, hyperventilating quite suddenly. He flexed his hands and looked himself over quickly, then breathed a sigh of relief. "Doesn't look like it, I'm not growing scales anywhere that I can see."

He squinted at Ash. "Thanks for bringing me up to speed... We sure are screwed aren't we?"

"Perhaps I might be assisting you," a rock said, and Otis nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized that the rock was actually a dward that had been sitting there for quite some time.

"We're just getting all sorts of visitors tonight," Otis grunted. He eyed the dward. "No offense, but unless you can help us hide several hundred feet of Matranical engineering, I'm not sure what you can offer. What's your name, dward?"

"Metloth," the dward said, smiling, immediately making Otis wish he hadn't. "There be place to hide cannon, secret dward place. No one find it, trust me."

"You guys hearing this?" Otis asked the others, rubbing his wound absent-minded.

***

Falcon shook her head. "Let's just kill him and stash his body in this house. No one will ever find it and we won't even have to hide it that well."

***

"Mr. Price," Eimln said, appearing seemingly out of thin air next to the man. "I've acquired the belongings you had asked for. All the shells were gone, however. I've hid what there was outside of town for now."

The dward took a seat on the bench, and began idly kicking her legs like a child. "I have also sent a few dwardmen to find the missing heroes. Do you intend to meet them as well?"

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#, as written by Nulix
Lucky squinted at M'kama but made no move for his blade. She turned to Falcon as the woman began to talk of incredible murder but did not comment. "So did you do it?" She asked, referring to Leander's assault.