Introduction
NOTE TO ALL MEMBERS OF THE ROLEPLAY:
Please check all OOC boards for notes about the ball, the factions, and so on. Thank you!
This war hasn’t been the first involving Gifted- the superpowered, the blessed, the cursed- as a species, as active participants using their powers for bloodshed.
Throughout history, there have been traces of humans talented with special abilities, capable of feats unachievable by the average man or woman. Prophets, creatures of lore, those blessed with incredible luck, or who could read people completely, or those regarded as magicians...Of course, many were unaware of these abilities, and those who did were either regarded as gods, or kept their secrets under lock and key in fear of the consequences. It was only recently- several hundred years ago- that they began to appear more frequently, with more intense powers, more obviously “special”.
The Gifted.
As with anything unique, tensions rose, with humans declaring the Gifted dangerous. Their children could easily be harmed by one with super strength, and robberies could become even more life-threatening when performed by a pyrotechnic. War soon broke out, the recorded beginning dating to around a century ago. However, this story is not about then.
Humans, those who were unfortunate enough not to have such powers, not only lost; they were wiped off the face of the earth, with only tiny pockets remaining. In the chaos and anarchy that followed at the lack of any real stable civilization, two factions emerged.
Erubesco, the faction of culture, monarchy, grace, and science.
Liberty, the faction of order, efficiency, unity, and progress
Given the clash of their ideologies, lifestyles, and many other factors, it did not take long before both declared war on one another. They scrambled to collect land, stronger Gifted to fight under their command, and to gain an upper hand when both were equal in strength. Both groups even found themselves relying on tampering with genetic code, hoping to unlock something which would strengthen their own side. The war has currently been raging for eight years in total, in which many lives have been lost, and many atrocities committed.
Much like the fairy tales which parents tell to their children at storytime, Erubesco is based around a concept of nobility, kings and queens, and an idealized view of “good” and “evil”. Towns cluster around grand castle bases, soldiers are dubbed as the “knights in shining armor” for the weak and defenseless, and many civilians go about their life with art and song heavily involved in their schedules. At face value, it appears like a beautiful utopia of prosperity and life.
However, the truth is far darker, as one might expect. Not only are the general issues that tend to come with a monarchy present- inequality, a very unlikely chance of ascending to another role, etc.- but civilian experimentation is very much the norm. While the entire process tends to be kept rather hushed, what occurs beneath the beautiful tiling of the castle floors is very real, and very active. While the glitz and glamor of movie stars and storybook towns may be appealing to many, it is a thin veil to what Erubesco truly stands for underneath it all. The ranks are as follows:
King
Viceroy/Lord/Lady
Grand Chancellor
Chancellor
Knight Commander
Alchemist
Knight/Acolyte
Infantry
Conscript
Serf
The first impression which tends to fall upon the viewer of any Liberty city is a certain...blandness. Nigh-identical buildings and streets, all made up of a monochrome color. A majority of the population reside in their own apartments, and a lack of real vibrancy. However, Liberty’s morals are the main reason so many are drawn; preaching fair rights for all, scorning the pointless harm of her populace, and pushing the belief that, with enough hard work and care, even the weakest can grow into a potential Councillor.
Of course, while Liberty preaches patience towards its people, caring for them and providing for the needs of the loyal, they also push for extreme devotion. The rebellious are carefully groomed into fiercely loyal citizens, and the unity which is so focused upon can have the unfortunate side effect of damaging individuality. The ranking system is a fair deal more complicated when compared to that of Erubesco’s, but retains somewhat of a pattern. There are several sectors of Liberty, with each having seven ranks or less; ranging from the lowly Trainee, to the grand Councillor. Each sector is headed by a Councillor, which work with the Founder- and Leader- on near equal terms to make decisions for Liberty.
The sectors are as follows:
Espionage
Loyalty Affirmation
Interrogation
Economics
Defense
Genetics
Healing
Training
Education
Infrastructure
Agriculture
As there are are many different offshoots of these sectors, as well, and would take far too long to go through as is, it shall not be placed on this page. Instead, feel free to message the GMs if you want specifics on the rankings.
Of course, what with the fact that quite a number of the Gifted population disagree with the beliefs of the current superpowers, many splinter groups have formed. None have been unable to reach the strength that the factions possess, but manage to survive in the harsh wastelands nonetheless. Ranging from tribes, to mercenaries, to rag-tag bundles, it is common for these small communities to often be at each other’s throats.
While the term “wanderer” itself applies to any group or individual roaming the wastelands that is not a Mercenary or Faction goer, there are currently only three groups that are being followed at the moment. They are known as the Wanderers, the Striders, and the Bunker goers, with the Wanderers group being the largest in number, and the Striders being the smallest. They do not have any real reputation among the wastelands, as all are quite tiny when compared to others, and the wastes are quite expansive. Each have their own goals as of the moment, with a main one being shared among them; survival.
While mercenaries tend to work under the factions, doing the dirty work that their bosses can’t spare the resources to do, that does not stop them from forming clusters of sorts to make jobs easier. There is only one current mercenary group that is being followed, however, although there are quite a few who work alone or work in other gatherings of sorts.
Please check all OOC boards for notes about the ball, the factions, and so on. Thank you!
This war hasn’t been the first involving Gifted- the superpowered, the blessed, the cursed- as a species, as active participants using their powers for bloodshed.
Throughout history, there have been traces of humans talented with special abilities, capable of feats unachievable by the average man or woman. Prophets, creatures of lore, those blessed with incredible luck, or who could read people completely, or those regarded as magicians...Of course, many were unaware of these abilities, and those who did were either regarded as gods, or kept their secrets under lock and key in fear of the consequences. It was only recently- several hundred years ago- that they began to appear more frequently, with more intense powers, more obviously “special”.
The Gifted.
As with anything unique, tensions rose, with humans declaring the Gifted dangerous. Their children could easily be harmed by one with super strength, and robberies could become even more life-threatening when performed by a pyrotechnic. War soon broke out, the recorded beginning dating to around a century ago. However, this story is not about then.
Humans, those who were unfortunate enough not to have such powers, not only lost; they were wiped off the face of the earth, with only tiny pockets remaining. In the chaos and anarchy that followed at the lack of any real stable civilization, two factions emerged.
Erubesco, the faction of culture, monarchy, grace, and science.
Liberty, the faction of order, efficiency, unity, and progress
Given the clash of their ideologies, lifestyles, and many other factors, it did not take long before both declared war on one another. They scrambled to collect land, stronger Gifted to fight under their command, and to gain an upper hand when both were equal in strength. Both groups even found themselves relying on tampering with genetic code, hoping to unlock something which would strengthen their own side. The war has currently been raging for eight years in total, in which many lives have been lost, and many atrocities committed.
Much like the fairy tales which parents tell to their children at storytime, Erubesco is based around a concept of nobility, kings and queens, and an idealized view of “good” and “evil”. Towns cluster around grand castle bases, soldiers are dubbed as the “knights in shining armor” for the weak and defenseless, and many civilians go about their life with art and song heavily involved in their schedules. At face value, it appears like a beautiful utopia of prosperity and life.
However, the truth is far darker, as one might expect. Not only are the general issues that tend to come with a monarchy present- inequality, a very unlikely chance of ascending to another role, etc.- but civilian experimentation is very much the norm. While the entire process tends to be kept rather hushed, what occurs beneath the beautiful tiling of the castle floors is very real, and very active. While the glitz and glamor of movie stars and storybook towns may be appealing to many, it is a thin veil to what Erubesco truly stands for underneath it all. The ranks are as follows:
King
Viceroy/Lord/Lady
Grand Chancellor
Chancellor
Knight Commander
Alchemist
Knight/Acolyte
Infantry
Conscript
Serf
The first impression which tends to fall upon the viewer of any Liberty city is a certain...blandness. Nigh-identical buildings and streets, all made up of a monochrome color. A majority of the population reside in their own apartments, and a lack of real vibrancy. However, Liberty’s morals are the main reason so many are drawn; preaching fair rights for all, scorning the pointless harm of her populace, and pushing the belief that, with enough hard work and care, even the weakest can grow into a potential Councillor.
Of course, while Liberty preaches patience towards its people, caring for them and providing for the needs of the loyal, they also push for extreme devotion. The rebellious are carefully groomed into fiercely loyal citizens, and the unity which is so focused upon can have the unfortunate side effect of damaging individuality. The ranking system is a fair deal more complicated when compared to that of Erubesco’s, but retains somewhat of a pattern. There are several sectors of Liberty, with each having seven ranks or less; ranging from the lowly Trainee, to the grand Councillor. Each sector is headed by a Councillor, which work with the Founder- and Leader- on near equal terms to make decisions for Liberty.
The sectors are as follows:
Espionage
Loyalty Affirmation
Interrogation
Economics
Defense
Genetics
Healing
Training
Education
Infrastructure
Agriculture
As there are are many different offshoots of these sectors, as well, and would take far too long to go through as is, it shall not be placed on this page. Instead, feel free to message the GMs if you want specifics on the rankings.
Of course, what with the fact that quite a number of the Gifted population disagree with the beliefs of the current superpowers, many splinter groups have formed. None have been unable to reach the strength that the factions possess, but manage to survive in the harsh wastelands nonetheless. Ranging from tribes, to mercenaries, to rag-tag bundles, it is common for these small communities to often be at each other’s throats.
While the term “wanderer” itself applies to any group or individual roaming the wastelands that is not a Mercenary or Faction goer, there are currently only three groups that are being followed at the moment. They are known as the Wanderers, the Striders, and the Bunker goers, with the Wanderers group being the largest in number, and the Striders being the smallest. They do not have any real reputation among the wastelands, as all are quite tiny when compared to others, and the wastes are quite expansive. Each have their own goals as of the moment, with a main one being shared among them; survival.
While mercenaries tend to work under the factions, doing the dirty work that their bosses can’t spare the resources to do, that does not stop them from forming clusters of sorts to make jobs easier. There is only one current mercenary group that is being followed, however, although there are quite a few who work alone or work in other gatherings of sorts.
- Code: Select all
[center][img](Image URL goes here.)[/img] (An image isn't needed, but feel free to add one if you want one in. Otherwise, you can delete this bit.)
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Full Name:[/b][/size][/color]
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Nicknames/Aliases:[/b][/size][/color]
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Age:[/b][/size][/color]
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Gender:[/b][/size][/color]
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Gift:[/b][/size][/color]
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Loyalty: (if Erubescian or Liberty, please add their position if you can)[/b][/size][/color]
[color=#000000][size=100][b] Description:[/b][/size][/color] (What do they look like? Even if you've got a picture, a bit of writing would be nice.)
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Personality:[/b][/size][/color] (A brief outline of their demeanour.)
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Skills:[/b][/size][/color]
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Weaknesses:[/b][/size][/color] (Achilles' Heels that can be exploited by enemies.)
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Brief History:[/b][/size][/color] (Any notable events in their background that might have shaped them. If you don't want to reveal too much, that's fine.)
[color=#000000][size=100][b]Other:[/b][/size][/color] [/center] (Anything else you think everyone needs to know about your character.)
Events of the Roleplay so far... http://www.neopets.com/~aggiebluemint
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The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 16 authors
Distracted in her progress by the appearance of a lizard, Rei had delayed her attempts to find the others by a few minutes.
She was still kind of hungry after all.
The flicker of a shadow overhead however drew her immediate attention. Possibly she'd just spent too much time hunting animals out in the ruins that her sense of perception had gotten highly attuned to movement, or perhaps it has always been a feature of her ability's strange physiological effects, but she identified something far above that was moving. Something that was alive.
Rei stared at it, limp lizard tail still jutting from the corner of her mouth for some moments, before the mutant snapped it up and sprang off over the rubble to follow the trajectory.
Her hasty course almost caused her to jump down right into the centre of a group of other Helton residents.
The creature hurriedly cut her momentum,skidding in the dust to stand about level with the edge of a group.
"Did you see the big flying thing? It's definitely alive, but it's not moving right for a bird. " she asked, tilting her head upward again.
"Also hi everyone. I guess I slept in as everyone seemed to be out when I got up."
Well, that was technically right, in that her 'sleeping in' was the duration of about three days.
"Also also, who is this guy?" she eyed Jake with some level of wariness.
Whilst Rei would not consider herself a very unwelcoming person, her experiences with strangers entering the area lately had been...less than positive. Most of the people who turned up seemed to make things decidedly worse, and she wasn't exactly liking the odd as they stood.
She was still kind of hungry after all.
The flicker of a shadow overhead however drew her immediate attention. Possibly she'd just spent too much time hunting animals out in the ruins that her sense of perception had gotten highly attuned to movement, or perhaps it has always been a feature of her ability's strange physiological effects, but she identified something far above that was moving. Something that was alive.
Rei stared at it, limp lizard tail still jutting from the corner of her mouth for some moments, before the mutant snapped it up and sprang off over the rubble to follow the trajectory.
Her hasty course almost caused her to jump down right into the centre of a group of other Helton residents.
The creature hurriedly cut her momentum,skidding in the dust to stand about level with the edge of a group.
"Did you see the big flying thing? It's definitely alive, but it's not moving right for a bird. " she asked, tilting her head upward again.
"Also hi everyone. I guess I slept in as everyone seemed to be out when I got up."
Well, that was technically right, in that her 'sleeping in' was the duration of about three days.
"Also also, who is this guy?" she eyed Jake with some level of wariness.
Whilst Rei would not consider herself a very unwelcoming person, her experiences with strangers entering the area lately had been...less than positive. Most of the people who turned up seemed to make things decidedly worse, and she wasn't exactly liking the odd as they stood.
Cadriel and the large man were both summoned away by a call. Both left rather suddenly, the large man leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. It was at this point Edgar realized something. There's no way I'm going to get that all cleaned up by myself. At least I can blame it all on the large guy and continue on.
With the others gone there was no force holding him there any longer. Looking rotten like his day's been nothing but rotten pears he started on his way off when his annoying headset went off in his ear. He wouldn't wear the damn things if it wasn't declared necessary and enforced as such.
“Chase Black, Edgar Gormly, Krystal Saturns, and Patricia Collin,please report to the teleport bay immediately. Gormly, bring soldering equipment and the Cabinet 3 reconstruction materials from the supply closet on your way. Thank you.”
What the hell is Cabinet three reconstruction materials? Was the first thought to run through his head. The next thought was just a begrudged internal sigh as he turned on his feet and was about to walk on down to the teleport bay when he saw her just standing right next to him in passing. In his ear he heard her voice.
"Aw, leaving your new friend already?" She playfully chided him with mocking concern.
Unless you somehow forgot I have a job to do. Edgar was far less amused with this interest of hers.
"Well I won't keep you but I do know you're interested in that city he spoke of."
Edgar stopped, considering her words carefully. He hadn't even thought of it but now that she mentioned it Skip DID know about Helton, this city he was most interested in. Letting good information like that slip would be squandering an opportunity, a good one. This was definitely another case of his sister playing him like a fiddle. The worst part? It worked like a charm.
Exactly as she knew it would.
Edgar looked back over his shoulder at Skip. "I want to know more about that city. I'll talk to you later."
Not entirely diplomatically put but Edgar was anything but diplomatic as he typically rubbed almost anyone he met the wrong way most of the time. With his farewells wrapped up he left to go bring soldering equipment and Cabinet three reconstruction materials to the teleport bay.
He arrived on scene, having left his mop and bucket back in the supply closet so he could carry the soldering equipment and cabinet three reconstruction materials. The tall, frowning one eyed man in his janitorial jumpsuit approached the scene. He looked on upon the caved in walls and the blonde girl in a wheelchair.
With a beleaguered sigh he set the stuff he was carrying down on the ground. "Who needs this?" He questioned gruffly, his hands already seeking their way into his pockets as he stood nonchalantly over the bits of stone rubble, metal shards and loose wires.
With the others gone there was no force holding him there any longer. Looking rotten like his day's been nothing but rotten pears he started on his way off when his annoying headset went off in his ear. He wouldn't wear the damn things if it wasn't declared necessary and enforced as such.
“Chase Black, Edgar Gormly, Krystal Saturns, and Patricia Collin,please report to the teleport bay immediately. Gormly, bring soldering equipment and the Cabinet 3 reconstruction materials from the supply closet on your way. Thank you.”
What the hell is Cabinet three reconstruction materials? Was the first thought to run through his head. The next thought was just a begrudged internal sigh as he turned on his feet and was about to walk on down to the teleport bay when he saw her just standing right next to him in passing. In his ear he heard her voice.
"Aw, leaving your new friend already?" She playfully chided him with mocking concern.
Unless you somehow forgot I have a job to do. Edgar was far less amused with this interest of hers.
"Well I won't keep you but I do know you're interested in that city he spoke of."
Edgar stopped, considering her words carefully. He hadn't even thought of it but now that she mentioned it Skip DID know about Helton, this city he was most interested in. Letting good information like that slip would be squandering an opportunity, a good one. This was definitely another case of his sister playing him like a fiddle. The worst part? It worked like a charm.
Exactly as she knew it would.
Edgar looked back over his shoulder at Skip. "I want to know more about that city. I'll talk to you later."
Not entirely diplomatically put but Edgar was anything but diplomatic as he typically rubbed almost anyone he met the wrong way most of the time. With his farewells wrapped up he left to go bring soldering equipment and Cabinet three reconstruction materials to the teleport bay.
He arrived on scene, having left his mop and bucket back in the supply closet so he could carry the soldering equipment and cabinet three reconstruction materials. The tall, frowning one eyed man in his janitorial jumpsuit approached the scene. He looked on upon the caved in walls and the blonde girl in a wheelchair.
With a beleaguered sigh he set the stuff he was carrying down on the ground. "Who needs this?" He questioned gruffly, his hands already seeking their way into his pockets as he stood nonchalantly over the bits of stone rubble, metal shards and loose wires.
The setting changes from The Wasteland to The Citadel
"You do," said Piper, who was already busy at work melting and attaching damaged wiring, leaning forward in her chair until she looked ready to fall out. "All of you," she said as a few more crew members trickled into the teleportation bay. She barely looked up as she spoke; blinding pulses sparked from her fingertips as her Gift activated, lighting her face like an irregular strobe.
"There's an emergency situation going on and...these breaks occurred in someone's haste. The damages may be a threat to security. I think we all saw how catastrophic the results can be when the teleportation security is compromised," she said, detangling a pair of fat, sparking cables with a new determination as she remembered the attack, the fire...the being strapped to the emergency generator like a human battery.
She glanced at Edgar, where he stood hands in pockets, looking, in her opinion, a bit clueless. She vaguely recalled seeing him around the base. She remembered, because he had appeared to be rambling to himself. Piper knew she wasn't dealing with a specialist group; but they all should have received some measure of broad, fundamental repair training, and right now, close by with fundamental training would have to be good enough.
Piper's whole bearing seemed to change as she gladly donned the mantle of responsibility. Her soft voice sounded harder with her decisive orders. "Attach those cables, and those ones. If you don't usually handle electrical, consider this your first training lesson and grab an iron and ask me or Saturns where to attach, or use that adhesive from the supply cabinet to patch the wall over what's already fixed, like there, on my left."
"There's an emergency situation going on and...these breaks occurred in someone's haste. The damages may be a threat to security. I think we all saw how catastrophic the results can be when the teleportation security is compromised," she said, detangling a pair of fat, sparking cables with a new determination as she remembered the attack, the fire...the being strapped to the emergency generator like a human battery.
She glanced at Edgar, where he stood hands in pockets, looking, in her opinion, a bit clueless. She vaguely recalled seeing him around the base. She remembered, because he had appeared to be rambling to himself. Piper knew she wasn't dealing with a specialist group; but they all should have received some measure of broad, fundamental repair training, and right now, close by with fundamental training would have to be good enough.
Piper's whole bearing seemed to change as she gladly donned the mantle of responsibility. Her soft voice sounded harder with her decisive orders. "Attach those cables, and those ones. If you don't usually handle electrical, consider this your first training lesson and grab an iron and ask me or Saturns where to attach, or use that adhesive from the supply cabinet to patch the wall over what's already fixed, like there, on my left."
There sat the girl, welding wires with her fingers. A little blonde girl in a wheelchair no less. No real big deal to Ed. He didn't care if his orders came from a four hundred foot tall tarantula, work was work. It all sucked anyways.
"There's an emergency situation going on and...these breaks occurred in someone's haste. The damages may be a threat to security. I think we all saw how catastrophic the results can be when the teleportation security is compromised,"
"You mean this here hole the big guy left?" He retorted. He wasn't aware of the events prior to his transfer to this location. He had been working for a bit of time but not long enough to really know this place. He was never really good at remembering faces either. As far as training was concerned he was given basic routines for a select few duties. Patching up walls wasn't outside his scope of training.
"Attach those cables, and those ones. If you don't usually handle electrical, consider this your first training lesson and grab an iron and ask me or Saturns where to attach, or use that adhesive from the supply cabinet to patch the wall over what's already fixed, like there, on my left."
With a indifferent shrug Edgar took up the adhesive. It was an easy enough job and he was not keen to speak to these people more than was already necessary. Applying the adhesive he patched up the wall where needed. All the while he couldn't stop thinking of the town Skip had spoke of.
A place which spells the end of any loyalist who dares venture into the city, all except him of course. It would provide wonderful isolation, especially against more loyal folks Erubescor had.
If only I knew where...
"There's an emergency situation going on and...these breaks occurred in someone's haste. The damages may be a threat to security. I think we all saw how catastrophic the results can be when the teleportation security is compromised,"
"You mean this here hole the big guy left?" He retorted. He wasn't aware of the events prior to his transfer to this location. He had been working for a bit of time but not long enough to really know this place. He was never really good at remembering faces either. As far as training was concerned he was given basic routines for a select few duties. Patching up walls wasn't outside his scope of training.
"Attach those cables, and those ones. If you don't usually handle electrical, consider this your first training lesson and grab an iron and ask me or Saturns where to attach, or use that adhesive from the supply cabinet to patch the wall over what's already fixed, like there, on my left."
With a indifferent shrug Edgar took up the adhesive. It was an easy enough job and he was not keen to speak to these people more than was already necessary. Applying the adhesive he patched up the wall where needed. All the while he couldn't stop thinking of the town Skip had spoke of.
A place which spells the end of any loyalist who dares venture into the city, all except him of course. It would provide wonderful isolation, especially against more loyal folks Erubescor had.
If only I knew where...
The setting changes from The Citadel to Helton
Mina whipped around at the sound of footfalls behind her, only taking in Rei’s voice a second after her pistol had been drawn.
And in the span of about ten seconds, the effort spent hiding her weapon and the fact that they were expecting an unwanted incoming was wasted. She tucked the gun back into her waist and cast Reith a nod, before training her eyes back onto Jake.
“Listen, sugar,” she said, taking a step forward into his space, “We’ve got bigger problems than you at the moment, so I suggest you get along out from underfoot. I’ve not got the best track record on watching my crossfire, so back the way you came’s gonna treat us all better in the long run.”
Poor hospitality taken care of, she brought her gaze back to watching the encroaching figure. “We all saw it, Reith. Mr. Talin or Schippers… You got anything to tell us about our new friend? Because I’m not a fan of the way he’s coming in.”
Then, back to the mental channel, ‘Trying to keep the Mind-Manipulator card in the back pocket, for now. But if you’ve got anything, please do share. Or... Sera? You think you can cast some light the wrong way and hide us?’
----
Larke, meanwhile, was wholly unaware of the situation he was drifting dangerously near to. The healer had been holding himself afloat on a warm updraft, keeping as hidden as possible behind a cloud. While there were peeks he managed to catch below, the small gathering in Helton was all but impossible to make out given his near snow blindness from the thick sheet of white he was gliding over.
The courage to swoop lower and get a better read was still beyond him; perhaps if he flew more directly over, he could descend on the back gate and take them by surprise?
And in the span of about ten seconds, the effort spent hiding her weapon and the fact that they were expecting an unwanted incoming was wasted. She tucked the gun back into her waist and cast Reith a nod, before training her eyes back onto Jake.
“Listen, sugar,” she said, taking a step forward into his space, “We’ve got bigger problems than you at the moment, so I suggest you get along out from underfoot. I’ve not got the best track record on watching my crossfire, so back the way you came’s gonna treat us all better in the long run.”
Poor hospitality taken care of, she brought her gaze back to watching the encroaching figure. “We all saw it, Reith. Mr. Talin or Schippers… You got anything to tell us about our new friend? Because I’m not a fan of the way he’s coming in.”
Then, back to the mental channel, ‘Trying to keep the Mind-Manipulator card in the back pocket, for now. But if you’ve got anything, please do share. Or... Sera? You think you can cast some light the wrong way and hide us?’
----
Larke, meanwhile, was wholly unaware of the situation he was drifting dangerously near to. The healer had been holding himself afloat on a warm updraft, keeping as hidden as possible behind a cloud. While there were peeks he managed to catch below, the small gathering in Helton was all but impossible to make out given his near snow blindness from the thick sheet of white he was gliding over.
The courage to swoop lower and get a better read was still beyond him; perhaps if he flew more directly over, he could descend on the back gate and take them by surprise?
The setting changes from Helton to The Wasteland
We’ll see. Talin?
On it
“I’m going to check the radar” the speedster announced casually, strolling away from the group. As soon as he was out of sight, he broke into a run, and was on the roof in seconds, gazing down, sharing the semi aerial view with the mind linked wanderers. Mostly for Sera’s benefit, she could create her illusion now. It was from this height, however, that he succeeded in catching a proper glimpse of their flyer, causing him to blink in shock.
It’s odd… he broadcast, tying together the image and knowledge that came with it. It says it’s a…healer? Not quite, it’s how he’s trained though, but no flight gift. Toby, do you get that?
Sera, meanwhile, directed lights to create an empty street below when looking down, although not perfect without being able to see it herself. Should we try to ground him? the young woman asked seriously, while visibly deferring to a leader with her body language.
On it
“I’m going to check the radar” the speedster announced casually, strolling away from the group. As soon as he was out of sight, he broke into a run, and was on the roof in seconds, gazing down, sharing the semi aerial view with the mind linked wanderers. Mostly for Sera’s benefit, she could create her illusion now. It was from this height, however, that he succeeded in catching a proper glimpse of their flyer, causing him to blink in shock.
It’s odd… he broadcast, tying together the image and knowledge that came with it. It says it’s a…healer? Not quite, it’s how he’s trained though, but no flight gift. Toby, do you get that?
Sera, meanwhile, directed lights to create an empty street below when looking down, although not perfect without being able to see it herself. Should we try to ground him? the young woman asked seriously, while visibly deferring to a leader with her body language.
The setting changes from The Wasteland to Helton
Toby's eyes locked skyward. The closer the Erubescan flew, the more accurately Toby could track the movement, almost imagine a sillouette through the haze. He half-nodded at Talin's note. I thought the same. I thought there might be an aircraft, maybe, but...
There. A shadow, just for an instant, through the clouds. Like an angel of death. Maybe a bit of a clumsy angel of death.
Toby lined the beam of his arm to the tip of his .357 up to his eyeline. The heavy artillery, the rifles and submachines guns Montana had provided, lay back at base. With one shot of the .357, Toby could reliably shatter a bottle at 100 yards. Semi-reliably at 150. If he was lucky, 200. Larke would be a lot farther than that when he passed at his closest, but he was, even without his broad wingspan, a lot bigger than a bottle. Plus, Toby couldn't link his Gift to a bottle.
He felt perspiration on his forehead. What if he was a defector? Dread at the idea of feeling Larke spiral down leeched into his mental announcement: I think I have a shot.
He broadcast it as though he would ask for permission, wanting someone else to make that decision, wanting to defer like Sera. As if there was any time for permission or any authority from whom to get it. The stranger would only get farther out of range and closer to the others at the base. Toby had learned by now to somewhat detangle his emotions from others', but if he did that, he would have to disconnect entirely, and then his aim would suffer from the poor visibility. So Toby sent out more mental fibers instead, until he could feel exactly where Larke was - and could feel the pressure of the air under his wings and the moisture of the clouds, the nervousness, determination, and that heady soul-wrenching fuel that could only be loyalty. This man wasn't a defector.
Toby's lip quivered, but his hand didn't. Aiming a few feet high to adjust for the distance, he pulled the trigger, emptying his five remaining hollow-point rounds at a steep angle into the sky. He would be happy to make even one hit.
If happy was the word for it.
There. A shadow, just for an instant, through the clouds. Like an angel of death. Maybe a bit of a clumsy angel of death.
Toby lined the beam of his arm to the tip of his .357 up to his eyeline. The heavy artillery, the rifles and submachines guns Montana had provided, lay back at base. With one shot of the .357, Toby could reliably shatter a bottle at 100 yards. Semi-reliably at 150. If he was lucky, 200. Larke would be a lot farther than that when he passed at his closest, but he was, even without his broad wingspan, a lot bigger than a bottle. Plus, Toby couldn't link his Gift to a bottle.
He felt perspiration on his forehead. What if he was a defector? Dread at the idea of feeling Larke spiral down leeched into his mental announcement: I think I have a shot.
He broadcast it as though he would ask for permission, wanting someone else to make that decision, wanting to defer like Sera. As if there was any time for permission or any authority from whom to get it. The stranger would only get farther out of range and closer to the others at the base. Toby had learned by now to somewhat detangle his emotions from others', but if he did that, he would have to disconnect entirely, and then his aim would suffer from the poor visibility. So Toby sent out more mental fibers instead, until he could feel exactly where Larke was - and could feel the pressure of the air under his wings and the moisture of the clouds, the nervousness, determination, and that heady soul-wrenching fuel that could only be loyalty. This man wasn't a defector.
Toby's lip quivered, but his hand didn't. Aiming a few feet high to adjust for the distance, he pulled the trigger, emptying his five remaining hollow-point rounds at a steep angle into the sky. He would be happy to make even one hit.
If happy was the word for it.
Larke blinked hard as a bright flicker crossed his vision— a flash of light from below that seemed to originate from nowhere. He squinted through the film of his goggles, but found nothing save for rubble and Ash in the streets of Helton beneath him.
The stillness of it was chilling: It cut through the layers of his flight jacket and traveled over his skin until the hair on his arms prickled as if caught by a static cling. Rushing wind dampened any sound for miles.
He did not hear the shots leave the gun. He did feel one burry itself in his defensive vest, casting him back with a thunk. A rush of air whizzed past his head, and another somewhere near him.
And then something far more direct: A sharp, fervid pain ripped through his right wing, setting ablaze nerves he never knew he had. Feather, skin, and muscle were all ravaged into meat, and his hollow humerus shattered like a clay pigeon. As the shot crumpled inside of his body, spidering cracks splinted from his shoulder blade to the very tip of his wing.
The wind stole the scream from his lungs.
Reflexively, the wing pulled into his body just as the compromised bone snapped from the sheer air pressure rattling against it. It mangled itself in the blustering squalls, folding and twisting into a gore-splatted work of modernist origami. As Larke plummeted toward the ground, his vision swam with black and pain. There was no differentiating between his spinning vision and spinning body as he tried his damned to show his descent.
The air pressure changed, and he was sure one of his eardrums burst.
He did not know whom he was expecting to answer his cry, nor what he gasping for as his arms flailed in search of anything to hold, but his instinct to live disregarded this logic; a bird beating its wings even as the snake gobbled its head. There was no directing this fall, but rather a shallow hope that his remaining wing could provide enough air resistance to break it.
In a horrid moment of clarity, he was struck by the sudden realization that he was going to die.
And then he was struck by the ground.
More precisely, it was the pavement of a road twenty or so yards behind his shooter.
His body stone-skipped across the fractured earth, the concrete ripping flesh and clothing alike his skeleton bashed against it. While the goggles had shielded his face, it was evident that not much else on his body had been spared damage in the ordeal.
Blood flesh flecked the Ash around the Erubescan’s unconscious form, and his backpack had split open to reveal a load of partially broken medical supplies.
A shower of wayward blonde feathers still floated on the breeze, settling long after the man who had shed them
The stillness of it was chilling: It cut through the layers of his flight jacket and traveled over his skin until the hair on his arms prickled as if caught by a static cling. Rushing wind dampened any sound for miles.
He did not hear the shots leave the gun. He did feel one burry itself in his defensive vest, casting him back with a thunk. A rush of air whizzed past his head, and another somewhere near him.
And then something far more direct: A sharp, fervid pain ripped through his right wing, setting ablaze nerves he never knew he had. Feather, skin, and muscle were all ravaged into meat, and his hollow humerus shattered like a clay pigeon. As the shot crumpled inside of his body, spidering cracks splinted from his shoulder blade to the very tip of his wing.
The wind stole the scream from his lungs.
Reflexively, the wing pulled into his body just as the compromised bone snapped from the sheer air pressure rattling against it. It mangled itself in the blustering squalls, folding and twisting into a gore-splatted work of modernist origami. As Larke plummeted toward the ground, his vision swam with black and pain. There was no differentiating between his spinning vision and spinning body as he tried his damned to show his descent.
The air pressure changed, and he was sure one of his eardrums burst.
He did not know whom he was expecting to answer his cry, nor what he gasping for as his arms flailed in search of anything to hold, but his instinct to live disregarded this logic; a bird beating its wings even as the snake gobbled its head. There was no directing this fall, but rather a shallow hope that his remaining wing could provide enough air resistance to break it.
In a horrid moment of clarity, he was struck by the sudden realization that he was going to die.
And then he was struck by the ground.
More precisely, it was the pavement of a road twenty or so yards behind his shooter.
His body stone-skipped across the fractured earth, the concrete ripping flesh and clothing alike his skeleton bashed against it. While the goggles had shielded his face, it was evident that not much else on his body had been spared damage in the ordeal.
Blood flesh flecked the Ash around the Erubescan’s unconscious form, and his backpack had split open to reveal a load of partially broken medical supplies.
A shower of wayward blonde feathers still floated on the breeze, settling long after the man who had shed them
Toby contorted with the scream the wind had stolen from Larke.
His spine arched with the explosion of pain in the wing he didn't have, then reversed in a fetal curl as desperate panic flooded in, twisting like a werewolf just before its first full moon. For a few seconds, he felt everything his target felt, plus a pinch of standard-fare guilt. Dizzy, Toby tried to untie his consciousness from the Erubescan before he hit the ground with same urgency he'd try to untie himself from railroad tracks in the face of an oncoming train. He didn't have time to unsnare himself completely. He watched Larke plummet and felt the crunch of the landing, and very nearly blacked out. Repressing a whimper, Toby forced his shaking limbs to understand they had not in fact been crushed after a drop from the equivalent of a small skyscraper and that he didn't need to limp, before he started walking through the snowfall of feathers.
Like any good dog on a bird hunt, Toby moved quickly toward Larke's crumpled body.
Though he didn't know whether he intended to ensure death for the wretch or to see if there was any life left to save.
His spine arched with the explosion of pain in the wing he didn't have, then reversed in a fetal curl as desperate panic flooded in, twisting like a werewolf just before its first full moon. For a few seconds, he felt everything his target felt, plus a pinch of standard-fare guilt. Dizzy, Toby tried to untie his consciousness from the Erubescan before he hit the ground with same urgency he'd try to untie himself from railroad tracks in the face of an oncoming train. He didn't have time to unsnare himself completely. He watched Larke plummet and felt the crunch of the landing, and very nearly blacked out. Repressing a whimper, Toby forced his shaking limbs to understand they had not in fact been crushed after a drop from the equivalent of a small skyscraper and that he didn't need to limp, before he started walking through the snowfall of feathers.
Like any good dog on a bird hunt, Toby moved quickly toward Larke's crumpled body.
Though he didn't know whether he intended to ensure death for the wretch or to see if there was any life left to save.
The setting changes from Helton to The Citadel
The newest Eurbesco Chancellor sat at his desk filling out paperwork after paperwork. This load of paperwork was no part in thanks to the bases Viceroy that hated his guts. Really the Viceroy was being passive aggressive about the whole thing to, even going so far as trying to give away his entitled mansion. Of course he really couldn't blame the man to much as he position was gotten in one of the worst way possible. Hell Derrick hated himself more than the Viceroy could ever hate him.
The lights in the room flickered as his mind wandered which reminded him of his other problem, power control loss. Seriously becoming an elemental had only worsened his problems as it brought his mentor to him. Seriously the man was frustrating, annoying, and maddeningly in control of his powers which pissed Derrick off even more. The fact he needed the man drove him up the wall.
As he came out of his thoughts he noticed one of the files passing his desk held a familiar name. With a frown he read the file and the lights in the room all but dimmed. No this would not do at all. Letting out a deep breath the lights returned to normal as he hatched a plan, one that no one would be the wiser too. He switched the contents of two files and smiled, he couldn't fix his spiraling life but he could fix this.
With that Korra Noverinter was assigned a position as a combat teacher instead of to the front lines.
The lights in the room flickered as his mind wandered which reminded him of his other problem, power control loss. Seriously becoming an elemental had only worsened his problems as it brought his mentor to him. Seriously the man was frustrating, annoying, and maddeningly in control of his powers which pissed Derrick off even more. The fact he needed the man drove him up the wall.
As he came out of his thoughts he noticed one of the files passing his desk held a familiar name. With a frown he read the file and the lights in the room all but dimmed. No this would not do at all. Letting out a deep breath the lights returned to normal as he hatched a plan, one that no one would be the wiser too. He switched the contents of two files and smiled, he couldn't fix his spiraling life but he could fix this.
With that Korra Noverinter was assigned a position as a combat teacher instead of to the front lines.
The setting changes from The Citadel to Liberty Base Alpha A
His outfit exemplified ridiculousness on such a grand scale that Mayday had nearly lost his composure to a wave of resignation that threatened to wash his eyes into the back of his skull. The mission, and its importance, were what kept him from expressing his frustration with his clothes, and by extension Erubescian culture. To express dissatisfaction would be an insult to the time and effort Liberty had taken to set up this undertaking. Something Mayday did and would not take for granted.
Ultimately, it had been his mirror that nearly did him in; when he saw the man reflected outward.
Pants, two toned, one side of lavender strippers, the other, a crimson red whose design was heavy, haphazard strokes.
The fabric clung to his legs, floating up slightly right before his ankles, exposing the skin from there down. His shirt was untucked, but designed to be so. His buttons lay open to the stomach, where a lavender waistcoat held its place. Over it all was a sleeveless coat, reaching down to his thighs.
"Look at me." Mayday's voice was filled with disgust.
"Look at me." The second voice, foreign to the first was a sultry tone, brimming with the self satisfied confidence he imagined Erubescians to have. Lastly, he placed a rather obnoxious hat on his head, complete with large rainbow feather. One side of the hat was tacked up, no doubt to add an element of roguishness to the piece.
Mayday, through training, had learned to be outwardly comfortable in such clothing; to swing his hips and blend in with the bloated upper class of the Kings men.
Inwardly?
Nothing could stop the hatred.
Tight lipped, with his nose pointed skyward, Mayday left his room, locking his cold eyes onto each and every person who crossed his path. Even the slightest smile would be subject to strict retribution, brought to you by the icy disgust of Mayday.
He crossed the hallways without snicker or incident. Which left him relatively clear minded for the task ahead.
He flashed his card, and the door opened minus the expected mechanical hum.
Now, he wasn't one for small talk, and outside of Liberty and work he had very little in common, as far as he was concerned, with anyone else in the room.
Looking at them both, he offered little more then a stiff pleasantry before he took his seat.
"Why. Is this here."
"We know these people are ridiculous, so why is it here."
Ultimately, it had been his mirror that nearly did him in; when he saw the man reflected outward.
Pants, two toned, one side of lavender strippers, the other, a crimson red whose design was heavy, haphazard strokes.
The fabric clung to his legs, floating up slightly right before his ankles, exposing the skin from there down. His shirt was untucked, but designed to be so. His buttons lay open to the stomach, where a lavender waistcoat held its place. Over it all was a sleeveless coat, reaching down to his thighs.
"Look at me." Mayday's voice was filled with disgust.
"Look at me." The second voice, foreign to the first was a sultry tone, brimming with the self satisfied confidence he imagined Erubescians to have. Lastly, he placed a rather obnoxious hat on his head, complete with large rainbow feather. One side of the hat was tacked up, no doubt to add an element of roguishness to the piece.
Mayday, through training, had learned to be outwardly comfortable in such clothing; to swing his hips and blend in with the bloated upper class of the Kings men.
Inwardly?
Nothing could stop the hatred.
Tight lipped, with his nose pointed skyward, Mayday left his room, locking his cold eyes onto each and every person who crossed his path. Even the slightest smile would be subject to strict retribution, brought to you by the icy disgust of Mayday.
He crossed the hallways without snicker or incident. Which left him relatively clear minded for the task ahead.
He flashed his card, and the door opened minus the expected mechanical hum.
Now, he wasn't one for small talk, and outside of Liberty and work he had very little in common, as far as he was concerned, with anyone else in the room.
Looking at them both, he offered little more then a stiff pleasantry before he took his seat.
"Why. Is this here."
"We know these people are ridiculous, so why is it here."
Beretta pushed herself up from her unladylike squat as the door whooshed open, and she turned to face the new arrival.
She beamed with excitement and then tensed as if stung at the sight of Agent Mayday, before finally settling into a pseudo-relaxed posture that involved leaning against the counter behind her in a way she hoped read as “I am at ease,” rather than “I’m putting my hand on this surface at an impractical angle because I saw someone do it in the magazines I’m supposed to be studying, and I figured that was better than letting it show that I am still very unsure as to how I should behave in front of you despite compulsorily sharing your bed for the past week.”
“Hello, Agent Mayday. Sir,” she greeted, and then looked down. “Or, not sir. Rather.”
She gave a thin chuckle, trying to ignore the knot that hat twisted in her gut at the mistake.
“Um… It is from Canvas. To show us. There is Pin-knot No-ear. And glitter.”
She took a stumble-step to the side so that Mayday could better see the bottles and nearly twisted her ankle before catching herself.
“And… he is a little off-time. I am thinking.”
She beamed with excitement and then tensed as if stung at the sight of Agent Mayday, before finally settling into a pseudo-relaxed posture that involved leaning against the counter behind her in a way she hoped read as “I am at ease,” rather than “I’m putting my hand on this surface at an impractical angle because I saw someone do it in the magazines I’m supposed to be studying, and I figured that was better than letting it show that I am still very unsure as to how I should behave in front of you despite compulsorily sharing your bed for the past week.”
“Hello, Agent Mayday. Sir,” she greeted, and then looked down. “Or, not sir. Rather.”
She gave a thin chuckle, trying to ignore the knot that hat twisted in her gut at the mistake.
“Um… It is from Canvas. To show us. There is Pin-knot No-ear. And glitter.”
She took a stumble-step to the side so that Mayday could better see the bottles and nearly twisted her ankle before catching herself.
“And… he is a little off-time. I am thinking.”
The setting changes from Liberty Base Alpha A to The Wasteland
"Pinot noir, Beretta, dear. I am a little off time," Supervisor Canvas Fajaar admitted. The Supervisor usually had a pleasant demeanor, but he seemed extra cheerful today, his stride loose. He entered dressed to match the in-character Agents: A silver-gray tuxedo, black shirt, and a white tie that caught the low light in geometric bits of shine. "I nearly forgot a favorite." The Supervisor held up a smooth bottle of a pinkish, crystal liquid labeled 'Se Détendre,' and set it in a row of similar bottles bearing labels like 'La Félicité and 'L'aigreur.' It was already open.
"Did you know," said Canvas, half sitting against the table, "they've got emotional manipulators whose entire jobs are to add dashes of feelings into beverages with so much alcohol content, they could be adding dashes of hair bleach and you'd barely know the difference? Really, it's terrible. Ridiculous waste of resources. It's this sort of wasted talent that will lose them the war." The accusatory words didn't quite match his flippant tone, or the fact that he appeared to have had a taste of ridiculously wasted resources already. For educational purposes, of course.
"Have a drink." He paused. "That's today's lesson. All of you, have several." He made a sweeping gesture across the glittering array of multi-colored beverages. "If you can avoid it, don't get anywhere near inebriated on the job, of course, but it's nigh impossible to make it through a party without taking a sip or two, and we can't have you making faces and choking and such. In any case, you'd be wise to get familiar with your tolerance. I recommend you start at the table on the left and work your way to the right, because the best stuff is on the left, and I suspect you won't be noticing the taste by the time you get halfway. Try all of them. If you can." He smiled. "I'm not going to say this is strictly a competition, but I will say that I got a small head start to make it a fair one. Get on with it. Try to enjoy yourselves. It's easier than pretending.
Dark eyebrows drawing together, Canvas stood aside for a moment, casting critical looks over the trio, his eyes suddenly showing a clarity that his entrance hadn't let on. This team had not gelled yet. He had some major concerns about this mission. He looked at Mimic--still in her mask, not yet wearing the face of the Erubescan partner Canvas was trying not to imagine locked up somewhere in the base (pity, because he'd rather hoped he could get used to that on the drinking day). Beretta, still not steady on those heels. Finally he looked to Mayday (still-stiff-despite-sleeping-with-Beretta-for-days-Mayday) and, as if just noticing the Agent's colorful presence, Canvas broke his momentary seriousness and laughed aloud. "By the way, you look preposterous, Agent Mayday. You would stand right out. By which I mean you would fit right in. Lovely."
"Did you know," said Canvas, half sitting against the table, "they've got emotional manipulators whose entire jobs are to add dashes of feelings into beverages with so much alcohol content, they could be adding dashes of hair bleach and you'd barely know the difference? Really, it's terrible. Ridiculous waste of resources. It's this sort of wasted talent that will lose them the war." The accusatory words didn't quite match his flippant tone, or the fact that he appeared to have had a taste of ridiculously wasted resources already. For educational purposes, of course.
"Have a drink." He paused. "That's today's lesson. All of you, have several." He made a sweeping gesture across the glittering array of multi-colored beverages. "If you can avoid it, don't get anywhere near inebriated on the job, of course, but it's nigh impossible to make it through a party without taking a sip or two, and we can't have you making faces and choking and such. In any case, you'd be wise to get familiar with your tolerance. I recommend you start at the table on the left and work your way to the right, because the best stuff is on the left, and I suspect you won't be noticing the taste by the time you get halfway. Try all of them. If you can." He smiled. "I'm not going to say this is strictly a competition, but I will say that I got a small head start to make it a fair one. Get on with it. Try to enjoy yourselves. It's easier than pretending.
Dark eyebrows drawing together, Canvas stood aside for a moment, casting critical looks over the trio, his eyes suddenly showing a clarity that his entrance hadn't let on. This team had not gelled yet. He had some major concerns about this mission. He looked at Mimic--still in her mask, not yet wearing the face of the Erubescan partner Canvas was trying not to imagine locked up somewhere in the base (pity, because he'd rather hoped he could get used to that on the drinking day). Beretta, still not steady on those heels. Finally he looked to Mayday (still-stiff-despite-sleeping-with-Beretta-for-days-Mayday) and, as if just noticing the Agent's colorful presence, Canvas broke his momentary seriousness and laughed aloud. "By the way, you look preposterous, Agent Mayday. You would stand right out. By which I mean you would fit right in. Lovely."
View All »Arcs
Arcs are bundles of posts that you can organize on your own. They're useful for telling a story that might span long periods of time or space.
A Morning Vistor
The Wanderer's peaceful morning is disturbed when several members detect the presence of another Ashlander at the gates of Helton. A small party converges to meet with and gauge the intentions of newcomer Jake Vale.
West District Conflict
Freedom Fighter/Wanter Terror suspect Rick Ronin is spotted in the Erubescan West District, a residential suburb of the Citadel City. He seeks food and gains help from citizens who seem not to recognize him. After being recognized and reported by Knight Saffir Fisher, an Erubescan Strike team forms and teleports to engage.
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View All » Add Character » 81 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Daevas
"I got you to look after me and you got me to look after you and that's why."
Agent Mayday
Liberty and Death
Olive
A little girl who loves her "parents".
Ava Thean
Councilor of Liberty Training
Tessa Avalon
Innocence mixed with Malice
Derrick Avalon
Cold Sunglass Wearing Bastard
Rick Ronin
"If your belief is worth dying for, it's worth killing for."
James Grimori
"Damien, why are you such a handful?"
Trending
James Grimori
"Damien, why are you such a handful?"
Pierrot
Keeps clowning around.
Kora Norrevinter
I know one thing that does not die, the judgement of a dead man's life.
Nicola Varren
"MY ORDER!"
Tessa Avalon
Innocence mixed with Malice
Seth Ghysels
"A smile never hurt. If it did, we'd be using smiles to fight by now."
Kayla Chandler
The wolf shifter is shy and quiet...until she bites
Rick Ronin
"If your belief is worth dying for, it's worth killing for."
Edgar Gormly
"One man's trash is another man's life."
Most Followed
Alexander Harrison
Flirting and being snarky is all part of his job as a Councilor
Id Gormly
"It's the thought that counts."
Makorai Saika
Bet you a kiss I can hit that.
Noire
" So...anyone you're looking for?"
Cecelia Brocktree
"If you don't have the strength to be happy, at least smile for everyone else's sake"
Ava Thean
Councilor of Liberty Training
Dawn Memoli
"Tomorrow will be a better day."
Edgar Gormly
"One man's trash is another man's life."
Agent Mayday
Liberty and Death
View All » Places
49 posts · 36 characters present · last post 2016-11-29 03:42:35 »
An apocalyptic landscape, most of it is covered by ash, earning the nickname "The Ashland"
33 posts · 11 characters present · last post 2016-11-21 01:33:07 »
Welcome to Liberty Base Alpha A. We hope you have a productive stay. This is a place for work, not play. Cheer for Liberty, hip hip hooray.
51 posts · 15 characters present · last post 2016-11-04 03:40:46 »
The Citadel Owner: ianna_334
The pinnacle of Erubesco glory, don't let the medieval inspiration distract you from the technological marvels it hides
30 posts · 19 characters present · last post 2016-11-03 06:15:09 »
The Wasteland ↪ Helton Owner: ianna_334
A nice safe place to rest... If you don't mind death, decay, and skeletons.
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