Wayland "Brimstone" Smith

"Hammer and anvil! Can you hear their beat? Can you hear the screaming? Can you hear the keening of the blades?"

0 · 244 views · located in The Garden

a character in “The Garden: An Arcadian Boneyard”, as played by NobodiesHiiro



Real name: Wayland Smith
Citizenship/P.O.B:Central U.S.A
Marital status:Single
Occupation:Guild member.
Spoken Languages:English, infernal, efreet.
Education:High-school diploma, instinctual grasp of engineering and metals.
Theme Song:Fury Of The Wild - Hammerfall

Wayland, is like a cosmic hiccup, something was misfiled, and a thread that is [forge] gets tied into where a thread that is (human) should have been. He at the very core of his existence, is just fire, and ash, and steel.

Weight: 147lbs(before powers.) 323lbs(now that his muscle and tissue is laced with molten metal.)
Eyes:Dark Amber
Hair:Ashen gray

Appearance: Wayland is a tall man, with a slim build. He has short cropped gray hair, and Amber colored eyes that seem to glow with some inner light. He has numerous scars littering his skin, more than could ever be built up by most people and then keep living.

He wears A black three-piece suit and tie, with dress shoes, over which is a long black coat.

Extra physical info:After his powers came to him he gained a faint, but persistent scent of fire, ash, and molten metal about him. Especially when his powers are in use. He smokes to try and cover up that smoke comes from his mouth and nose regardless of them.

Personality: Quiet, steady, watchful, able to keep his head in most situations, and detach himself enough to keep going. Sarcastic at times, with a viciousness when he or those he cares for are threatened. Likes to think about problems before giving an answer, but unafraid to slap it all together and hope for the best.

History prior to The Garden: Wayland was born to a woman he never knew, she abandoned him to his grandmother a month after he was born, His father was a lawyer, who had no need for a son, and never had anything to do with him, his grandfather died of old age four years before he was born.

His grandmother lived on the money left by his grandfather, and though it was hard, she made it work for the both of them. She brought him up the best that she knew how. Teaching him manners, and how to treat people how you yourself want to be treated. He never had the newest things, or the best clothes, but he loved his grandmother and saw how she went without for him, and so, never complained.

He was a quiet child. Always keeping his head down, and trying to keep out of trouble, but the values instilled into him by his Grandmother meant he stood up for people, even when it meant getting into a fight. She wasn't happy about that, but understood. He did well in school, averaging B's and planned to go to college to become an engineer after he graduated.

They lived happily, and she saw him graduate high-school, it was a great day for the both of them. Unfortunately, all good thing must come to an end. And on his twenty first birthday, his grandmother passed away in her sleep, at the age of eighty seven. In his grief his power came to him in a rush of pain, fire, and molten metal he passed out, and woke up in a different place.

Powers: At first it was just constant pain. Like he was on fire. Red hot vomit, that solidified into a mass of cold metal when cool. Food turning to ash in his stomach, and water evaporating. His eyes, and hair changing over night, and a constant feel of the metal around him, and the instinctual knowledge of every type as soon as he saw it, and maybe, someday, what it could become.

Then, he began to experiment, small things of course. Teeth and nails becoming hard as steel and sharp as a dagger. Breathing out smoke, ash, and super heated air. Carefully disguised as a coughing fit. Discovering he has to eat metal to gain nourishment, and that large amounts can help him heal faster, the new metal effectively filling in the wounds. That he was stronger now, heavier, tougher. That the back of his throat lights up when he uses his powers, and warmth spreads from his core, smoke occasionally curling from his mouth and nostrils. A constant sound of the grating of metal on metal when he moves. What the limits are he doesn't know.(Sedatives are burned from his system, before they can take effect.)

Powers(a compilation):the rest coming soon, when I think of names.
-Obstinate Spine
-The Empathy of Steel
-Inanimate Mind
-Teeth, and Talons
-Smoke, and ash
-Cigarette Burner
-Line of steel
-River of Thorns

Skill/Proficiency: Thanks to his powers he now has an instinctual grasp of engineering that allows him to work as a competent mechanic. As long as the technology is some form of combustion engine.
-He is a decent short-order cook, and is able to make many simple meals.(taught by his grandmother.)
-Has some knowledge of how to track, and hunt, but he is not an expert by any stretch.(Learned in Boy Scouts.)

1.Food(Despite not gaining any nutritional value from it, he still enjoys the taste. Even more so now that he doesn't have to worry about fat, or calories.)(His food is delivered with a vial of dense metal shavings to pour over it.)
2.Silence(His youth was spent reading with his grandmother, or listening to classical music, but mostly in comfortable silence.)
3.Parks(open space, trees, happy people. What's not to like?)

1.Rude people(manners cost us nothing.)
2.Sour cream(Taste disgusting, ugh.)
3.Enclosed spaces.(See fear.)

1.Level headed

1.Deep Water(He sinks like a rock. It is extremely difficult, but not impossible for him to swim. His ability to manipulate the metal in his body becomes sluggish when he is submersed in cold water.)
2.Electricity(As his body is almost literally a lightning rod now, his body acts more like a conductor for electricity than ever. He loses control of his powers while charged with electricity, and for a few(3) seconds after.)
3.Immunity to healing magics.(Cannot be healed by magic intended to heal as he calls them:"The fleshy gut bits."

1.Claustrophobia(fear of small places.)

Further notes: His heartbeat sounds like a regular one to him, but to anyone else listening to it, it sounds like a hammer striking an anvil.

His skin is no longer as fragile as normal skin being more like leather, but still feeling the same, this added toughness is to hold in heat as his body feels warm to the touch like he has a light fever, but when the skin is broken it lets loose hot air, and he bleeds molten metal.

His bones are now made from an amalgam of multiple types of metal and his marrow is of a similar nature.

His dietary tract, and circulatory system are now basically a furnace that burn away everything except metals, they are now taken and used to fill I whatever gaps in the body that need filled.


So begins...

Wayland "Brimstone" Smith's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet

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Edit: I posted in the wrong tab. Moved it.

The setting changes from the-garden to Phyrexian Grassland

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet

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The first thing he noticed when he became aware again, was the heat. It was all encompassing, but it didn't hurt. It draped over him like a blanket, and he was at home in the heat, one with it.

Then he remembered. Remembered the pain he'd felt. The soul searing agony of his only families death giving way to real physical torture.

The screams ripped their way from his throat as his body seemed to fill with a burning all encompassing agony, it had felt as if his blood was boiling, like he was being killed over and over but was unable to die. He'd screamed until his vocal chords burst, screamed in silence, then screamed anew as they reformed in his throat. Finally after what felt like hours, he was allowed oblivion. The restful abyss of sleep.

The next he woke, he could taste ash in his mouth, but he found the flavor didn't bother him, rather it came as an odd sort of comfort, same as the heat. He couldn't explain why, even years later he wouldn't be able to explain why the tastes of sulfur, and ash in his mouth didn't repulse him.

Sometime later he finally became aware enough to realize he was laying face down in a pile of ash, his arms quickly found purchase beneath him, and he levered himself to his feet, swaying from side to side for a moment before surveying his surroundings with shocked eyes.

His home was a pile of smoking ash. He nearly fell to his knees, but caught himself mid collapse. He to the day still did not quite recall all of the events that led to that point, him standing in the wreckage of his childhood home, a strangely familiar rhythmic clang in his ears, or why he ran, still wearing the three piece suit and jacket he'd worn to his grandmothers funeral, he fled into the woods surrounding their home, and wasn't seen again for some time.

He still remembered the terror that filled the first few months of his "awakening' as he called it. The strangeness of his body changing, like a fucked up second puberty.

Having his fingers suddenly become metal talons and gouge at trees, that he now bled red hot metal, his eyes glowed in the darkness from within their sockets like some kind of demented Jack-O-Lantern, or the discovery that he no longer ate or drank like a human, but needed heavy metals to sustain himself, craved them like the forge he'd later know himself to be, and devoured them, like the smith he was through name and choice.

Life became at once, more and less difficult. A chasm formed between him and other people, he was something else, and he couldn't let anyone know, he became even more withdrawn than he had been in his youth, ignoring anyone that came looking for him, and keeping to himself.

At the same time however, he no longer felt shackled by the things he used to worry about, he no longer cared and in that was a new kind of freedom, and objects freedom, free from the fleshy cares of humanity. Oh, he still retained some things from before, baser instincts and urges, but they were dulled, they were no longer the shining edge they once were, and he was content with that.

It came one day that he just wished he could leave, that he could go somewhere he could be himself and be of use. He was stepping into a cross walk as he had these thoughts, and was clipped by a car that came speeding by, he was thrown backwards.

He never saw the golden portal that opened beneath him as he fell, but he most assuredly noticed the transition from city, to ruins, and the presence of the one who summoned him would become unmistakable in the coming years.

She was beautiful in an otherworldly sort of way, every part of her spake of alien majesty, the most obvious feature being her tall rabbit ears. He was struck speechless, surrounded by ruins in a strange new world, and with an obviously not human women before him. He gave himself a pat on the back for not passing out.

He watched the strange women for a moment longer before he finally stood, brushing dirt from his suit, and pressing a cigarette into his mouth, never lighting it, but smoke still spilled from his mouth around it. He opted not to speak, waiting on something to happen that he could understand, or that could give him answers.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane

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#, as written by duramon
The Black Rabbit stood with her arms crossed, her shining hair blowing gloriously in a mystical source of wind that seemed to affect nothing else in the area. She had to fight back a smirk as the crowds appeared, one man appeared before the others and attempted to hide his..unique state, behind a simple cigarette. In a world such as this he would find such things not nearly as useful but his attempt at least served to amuse the cold hearted rabbit. Slowly through golden portals and sudden appearances the crowd fully materialized, stragglers still arriving now and again behind the rest, all eyes on her and several embarrassed stares centred at her chest and thighs. She didn't care however, the Rabbit had learnt long ago that no matter what end of existence you hailed from men were all the same.

The woman tapped her foot impatiently on the stage as she awaited the stragglers to bundle together with the rest in front of the vast ruins, a crying girl appearing and quickly being comforted by a stranger with spiky red hair. She scoffed inwardly and kept her looks of disdain to herself, instead leveling a neutral gaze on them and the rest of the crowd, weaklings didn't last long anyway and they'd be sent home with the rest of the unfortunate random rabble.

Finally however she was given the cue as in a burst of blue light a group of around fifty people, mostly children and teenagers aside from one large grey haired man appeared in the rows of seats and the booth nearby. Those in the booth obviously higher ranking or more important members, made increasingly obvious by their age difference to the small crowd of young who sat fidgeting already in their spectating seats. The most noticeable was the tall grey haired and bearded man who sat in the center of the group upon a large wooden chair. A kind smile upon his features as he good naturedly chatted with the others around him before falling silent, brushing his white coat off of the sides of the large chair and directing his attention along with everyone else's to the Black Rabbit who glared at him impatiently.

"Welcome! One and all! To the recruitment game of The Nameless. I realize many of you are disorientated and confused, but you all have one thing in common. You wished for something new, a second change, a fresh start. I the Black Rabbit granted that wish, but it doesn't come entirely free." She announced with a fake and overly cheerful smile, bouncing around the place excitedly "You have been chosen from all across existence to compete here in The Garden in a recruitment game to join the infamous nameless guild. You will compete and fight and complete any of three victory conditions to earn your place amongst their number." She stated, before darkly smiling and turning to the group who gathered before her.

"Those who lose will be sent back to whatever reality they came from and wiped of all memory of this place, Those who win get to join the community here who are staging the recruitment game. Without a community even if you find your back here or a way to stay, you won't survive long! To live here you have to have great skills, a guild or have enough cash to live it up with city life!" She announced excitedly, real excitement. She always loved the bad news part of the announcements. "Now most of you are mundane, normal people, but some of you have gifts, or intelligence. You are to use these gifts in any way you deem necessary to complete the conditions, don't worry about death because for this game you have the wonderful Black Rabbit as a judge! All deaths will be temporary and simply result in an pleasant trip back to your own reality!" She stated twirling on the spot before tapping her foot twice on the ground, a rain of golden scrolls falling gently from the sky and wafting into the hands of every competitor.

"The rules are simple and written on those sheets as with the victory condition, however even if you complete the conditions its up to the guild master whether or not you make it in! It's not all about brute force or power here, you have to prove you'll be worthwhile having around!" She cheered, gesturing to the grey haired man at the mention of a guild master, in reply he simply waved kindly before being hidden by the bouncing rabbit. "You have only a short period of time before all remaining contestants are wiped out, so on my signal go!" She stated finally, stepping back and taking a seat on the ground, a small party popper materializing in her hand as a shiny golden throne broke from below to accommodate her. The rabbit humming happily to herself as she gave them all time to read. Behind the group lay the entrance to the maze, which despite its regular appearance and black stone rubble walls was entirely different once entered, to enter was to be transported to a far off place where the game would truly take place. The spire still an obvious peak,however reaching it was a different matter. In this true maze the walls were made of the same black-stone and the surroundings more resembled a dungeon, to be entirely accurate a gargantuan dungeon that spanned across several islands both large and small. Various trials,monsters and traps awaiting those who entered within.

The Golden items however were going to be the fun part for the spectators, each was located in a separate circular room past all the traps and monsters they could have possibly crammed into the points leading to them. To claim each item one would have to face a trial or defeat a monster or opponent, a seemingly straight forward task, if one was fortunate enough to find a single room that they alone gained access to and without competition for the item. To make matters worse not all circular rooms yield an item...however all do yield a challenge and an opportunity to remove some competition. Outside the circular rooms one is only subject to the competition and the mind-numbing and yet simple maze, along with various traps and creatures of strange descriptions, all in all..the game was going to allow only the strong and the intelligent to make it through.

However one first had to read the scroll to begin to at grasp what they had to do.


The scrolls read as follows.
1:You may use any means you require necessary to meet the conditions however exiting the maze or breaking its walls in considered cheating, you must find a way to make it through with what you have.
2:This is a solo event so working together to achieve a singular condition will only reward a single person.
3:Attempts to harm spectators or official judges will result in temporal banishment and removal from planar existence.

Victory Conditions:
To win this game one must at least one of these conditions.
1: Complete the maze and climb the spire within three minutes, after obtaining at least three golden items hidden through-out the maze.
2: Defeat five other participants and climb the spire, defeating the unique guardian who challenges you at its peak after unlocking your unique arcane door at its base with a golden key.
The final condition yields an additional reward along with the basic rewards for winning the game
3:Open all three Arcane Doors, located at: The Spire, The North Corner, and The Hidden Rune upon the maze wall. Using various Golden Items, no clues are given to which aside from The Spire.

One is able to join The Nameless Guild
Given a Lazul Card (Stores Gifts and Categorizes ones natural gifts and powers)
Gifted the Voice of Aniya (A magical gift allowing one to communicate with those in The Garden.)
Given Lodging and a small sum of two hundred coin for basic supplies and living.
Additional Rewards:
Given a Personalized Estate building and increased gold sum of four hundred coin.
Given choice of workshop for personal and shared use amongst guild.

Ignoring dismayed cries of unfairness,petty complaints and confusion. Black Rabbit raised her party popper and grinned as she pulled the string to fire it, a penetrating beam of light flashing high into the sky and after several minutes of rumbling, bringing lightning to crash down directly in front of the judge and announcer. A Golden and Ornate Spear weapon, or perhaps it was a halberd appearing and being picked up in her twirling hands before she halted it in front of her with a perfect innocent smile. The microphone placed in between two parallel blades either side of the shaft making itself known as her voice echoed out even louder then the remaining ringing of lightning and thunder.

"Let the games, Begin!, any late-comers will be ported directly into the game and given a scroll,now get going!"

The setting changes from phyrexian-grassland to The Garden


Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet

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Edit:Yes, yes I did it again. My bad, I'll try and not do it a third time.

The setting changes from the-garden to Phyrexian Grassland

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet

0.00 INK

"So,"He started with a sigh, "we're expected to believe that if we die, we don't actually die, and people we kill don't actually die." He couldn't help but laugh. Didn't they know, people die when they're killed?

He'd thought this place was surreal when he'd first arrived, but that took the cake. He still wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing was real, but for now, he'd humor his own delusional mind, and consider everything around him as a real, and potentially fatal event.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Wayland muttered as golden scrolls fell from the sky, he was chewing on the filter of his cigarette by that point, ignoring the people around him, copious amounts of ash pouring from around his cigarette, he read one of the scrolls given to them all moments before, the rest of these people had began appearing after he did. Figures I'd be fashionably early, he thought to himself. No small amount of depreciating sarcasm evident in his inner voice.

"Let's see, working together isn't against the rules, but two people doesn't mean half the work." On the contrary, he thought to himself, you would have to complete two win conditions. And of course another rule would be:Don't bite the hands that feed you. Wayland's words, but basically what it meant.

As people began reaching the end of their scrolls, dismayed and angry voices rose in a cacophony around him. He honestly didn't know what to expect, or how to feel. They obviously wanted people to do their best to "Win' these games, so much so they encouraged the use of lethal force, he was sure there were people inn the crowd more than willing to do just that.

She said it herself. We're all people that wanted to escape. No doubt we all have different reason for wanting to do so.

"I guess I'll just have to keep on my toes." He muttered one last time, before turning his attention away from the scroll, he snapped it shut shoving it into a pocket, before turning and making towards the maze at a relaxed gait. No way was he going to be stuck out in front with hundreds of potentially murderous people crowding in behind him.

Even if they probably couldn't harm him, no point in taking chances. The game was afoot.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio

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#, as written by Ankti
The golden parchment fell lightly into her hand, she transferred her bo staff to her tail so she could grip the page with both hands. She folded her legs under her until she was sitting on the cold floor, her eyes running over the words. When she reached the bottom of the page she started over again; the conditions of it, and many of the magical words, were far outside her understanding. After a second read she thought she’d made some sense of it - this was a test not meant to be passed, at least not by one like her. The conditions were too stringent, the time allotted too arbitrary.

Her master had set such tasks to her in the jungle, find fifty ripe fruits that were out of season, convince two sworn enemies to meal together without speaking to either. They were not tasks of futility, but of learning. He taught her through her own unsuccessful labors.

It seemed unlikely the rabbit woman was trying to teach her anything. She looked up passed the energetic creature to the crowd gathered in the stands. Many affected looks of indifferent boredom, but one watched the scene with a sharp eye. The grey haired man in the wooden chair watched those gathered below, taking in the details of their words and actions. He was learning.

If this was really the Nameless, really the guild she sought, it was of them she wished to learn. It might be possible to do that, to understand their character and culture through the test they built for her.

She tossed the parchment aside, unconcerned with the rules or the prizes, such things where only reflections in the water, vanishing when the surface is disturbed. She cared about what lay beneath the surface.

Hoping lightly in the air, over the heads of some still reading, she made for the gate, passing a tall man who smelled of nicotine and smithery. She gripped the bo in her hands again, using it as leverage as she leapt through black stone archway. When her feet touched the ground again she was somewhere else, a confining dungen, no signs or guideposts to give hint of where to go next.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Dan Breeze Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender

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#, as written by duramon
River had began to disperse into the maze along with the crowd, however he found himself caught and pausing in wait for the girl whom he'd comforted. To become attached was weakness,but if he were to complete the third goal despite its ludicrous notions then things would be better for him, better then scraping from one home to the next at the very least. To complete it however he'd need a group, more then simply himself and his own powers no matter what confidence he had in them. He tapped his foot impatiently, growling at the lost time that was floating by him in the form of a rushing and maddened crowd, desperate to complete any of the three challenges no matter the cost or the likelihood of their deaths.

Few things were more dangerous then a desperate mob with no hints of predictability, however it seemed he might not have to deal with them. For after everyone had funneled into the maze safe for himself, the girl, and the spectators. A thump resounded across the barren wastelands, one that made his ears stand upright above his hair and his tail flick out of the back of his pants, twitching and curling nervously as his cat-like eyes began to peer into the horizon, past the crowds and The Rabbit woman to the rolling dead hills and all to familiar piles of wastelandic 'sand', and he was not the only one for The Rabbit ignored the girl before him and pricked her long ears in the same direction as River. Something was coming, something big.

Standing atop the hill, a large wolven man clad in black and bronze armour stood growling. A large cleaver hefted over his shoulder and a curved blade resting at his waist next to a twitching claw, he had heard the rumors of The Nameless reforming and reported it to his leader, unfortunately they had decided to saddle out for an assault on the recruitment and he had been picked to give the orders.

His one glowing white eye stared across the large field in between them and their quarry, energy crackling around the rim of his only means of vision, the other eye covered by a pitch-black patch of cloth that curved around behind his twitching white ears. His fur was mottled and patchy in places due to deep scarring, dirt, or dried blood he still hadn't gotten around to fully removing. A weak looking man rushed up beside him, half swallowed by his leather armour and fidgeting before the wolf gave the okay for him to speak.

"The recruits have already entered the maze sir, T-they have The Rabbit and Aizen but the rest of them are just children, maybe teenagers at most. They have a few minor players and guild members with Aizen but they're just as the rumors stated. Completely incapable of fighting us back....sir." The little man fumbled out,before receiving a nod and rushing off back to the safety of the rear guard. This was going to go easier then expected, the wolf too was new to the garden and so The Nameless were simply a group of people that he had been ordered to kill. Something he was going to carry out no matter what the cost.

Besides, even if he were merciful he doubted they could defeat the army he had at his back, whilst small in numbers and barely considered seasoned the warriors behind him were confident and loyal, not to mention they were made almost entirely of mindless black husks who he spared no sympathy for. They were simply shadows made to flesh, warriors birthed from stolen memories and given the tools of their trade, bar the leather clad messenger and a few select officers within the army, the loss of men was completely forgivable and boringly simple to rectify once he returned to his master.

The wolf yawned once and then snarled, raising his cleaver into the air before shoving it forward with a roar that echoed across the empty and silent wastes. Lines of the husks rushed past him, a black river of shadow that bent around him like a solid boulder lodged in the bed of the wastelandic sands below the mass, finally they finished rushing past and headed for the small crowd and rival guild. The sands felt like home, if not only to him, it was a pity he would have to stain them with similar blood with all one hundred of his black husks.

A shadow flitted next to him for a moment as a women dressed in flowing black cloth appeared by his side, shadows dancing in her palm and a large spider climbing around her person with a small swarm in tow of it, followed by a large lion man clad in armour not unfitting a paladin, a massive kite shield by his side, a large hammer held in his opposing hand. Slowly his own group of officers amassed; An elemental of flowing silver, A flower-like warrior with curving purple blades, Something akin to a diseased ridden humanoid rat and an otherwordly fully armoured man wielding no visible weapon. They were a strange and mismatched bunch who had been only days before pieced together from a similar summoning to that which The Black Rabbit had just taken the time to do at the base of what was once a mountain.

With a grunt, a nod and an insane giggle the small group walked at a brisk pace behind their army, allowing themselves time to judge what they'd be facing, if anything at all. In the background the thumping continued and eventually made itself known as a behemothic golem peaked over the hill they had previously stood upon, the golem had been just in case they required any kind of siege but it would more then likely join the battle at its own pace. Long after the wolf and his group would arrive at the scene to its own disappointing realization.

Rivers eyes widened and he gritted his teeth at the sudden appearance of the horde, a wolven man stood out to him and his sharp teeth bit through his bottom lip, blood dripping down his chin as he watched the plague of warriors,no,shadows, rush across the wastelands towards them and the group of young. Black Rabbit saw them just before he did and immediately pushed past the girl, Aizen suddenly behind her and gesturing to the crowd to take shelter in the booth, the various other guild members that had taken seats in their with him also amongst the crowd to help them in any way they could to be comfortable and more importantly safe inside the booth.

The Maze would suddenly begin to glow yellow, whaning and fading in and out of existence before shattering like illusionary glass, leaving the participants standing even more confused then they ever had been at the third sudden change they'd experienced in such a short amount of time, Rabbit wasted no time on politeness or frivolities and frantically brought the spear microphone to her lips and roared to the startled group as familiar golden portals opened up along a wide line behind the participants.

"All Participants, evacuate back to your worlds! The event has been called off, I repeat, evacuate to your own worlds! We are under attack and for your own safety you must return home!" The message was clear enough, but in case they had any white knights in the group she bit her lip and spoke into the microphone once more despite the obvious and blatant lie "We can handle everything here, step through the portals and leave this place!" she ordered before tearing the microphone from its place between the blades and running off to assist Aizen and the others in making sure those unable to fight were safe.

Before heading to stand at the base of the hill leading up to the mountain, her golden spear in one hand as she spread her legs and got into a fighting position. A yellow rune opening up below her and glowing brightly as Aizen and the various others joined her side, now they had the agonizing job of waiting for the husks to get close enough for an opportune charge.

River however wasn't going to let them do so alone, instead of retreating through the portals he rushed forward and stood by a woman garbed in a somewhat revealing red and gold cloth dress. She emenated a pinkish aura and gave him a serious nod and a nervous smile before bringing her arms in front of her in a cross to prepare her magic, eight pink arms flourishing behind her as she did so. River simply nodded in return and began his own preparations, his breathe coming out as frost and his shardic wings tearing through his back with a loud and painful rip that left him doubled over and groaning, however he had no time to rest and was helped up by a supporting hand from the woman beside him.

Once he stood upright he took the same position as the woman beside him,hoping it would help in some way as small crystals of ice began to prick through his skin and grow across his rapidly cooling body. His fiery red hair and eyes standing out from his now blueish skin, he grunted heavily and swept one hand out across the distant hill that sat around three quarters from where the hoard had begun, large pillars and sharp spines of Ice erupting and growing into a small forest-like crystalline wall between them and their foes.

The action earned him a grateful nod and even an encouraging thumbs up from a few of the guild members as he bent doubled over and huffing, others were too concentrated on preparation and gathering enough mana for the long-lasting fight they were assuredly heading into. However the wall would seem to become useful sooner rather then later at this rate.

The Plague had already reached the half-way point.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender

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He hadn't known what to expect when he'd stepped foot into the labyrinth. He'd waited until everyone else had filed in, hearing the sounds of battle in the maze just sealed the knowledge in his head that not charging in was an excellent plan, and he was a scholar among men for having thought up such a brilliant idea. His own thoughts making him grin, the look half confidence, half amusement.

"I'm so full of shit." He chuckled out wryly, the heat of his breath singing the filter of his cigarette, and looking almost like he was smoking it backwards. He crept up to the first turn in the maze, and was preparing to turn the corner when the wall he was leaning against went stupid, and forgot just what it was to be a wall. That is to say, it stopped being solid, turned yellow and soon after, dissipated all together. Needless to say he nearly fell.

“Called off my ass.” He muttered, already trying to figure out their angle, obviously we're under attack, he thought. You yourself had said we should use lethal force. No this had to be another test. One to weed out the weak willed. Who could say if the portals actually sent people home? For all Wayland knew, they sent people to some far off prison, or into the heart of a star.

He eyed the approaching “army' of shadows, they were definitely laying it on thick, he thought. Standing casually his cigarette lit now as he some times actually smoked them when he was thinking.

“Bullshit.” He grumbled, eyes narrowing, analyzing all of the people who had bought into the ruses powers, he might have to fight them later. The shadows were truly terrifying, they set his teeth on edge, truly an excellent illusion. They even smelled, and the weight of the weapons history unsettled him.

“Wait, what?” He did a double take, watching a man dig a hole and cover himself in mud, though that's not what caused him to stop, no it was the beasts approaching him. Or, more accurately, there weapons, they were real, not fake, he could see their history, practically taste it as he drowned in the sea of blood spilled by this putrid creature, His lip pulled back away from his teeth in a near silent snarl, showing every one of his razor sharp teeth. The very sword he was so enraptured by was an ugly, filthy thing, but it was impossible, illusions have no history. Then the blade fell, and he was convinced.

He barely brought his arm up in time to block the blade, even still it bit down to the bone, sparking as metal hit metal, the blade turning cherry red as the super heated nature of his blood vented on the foreign metal. He didn't have time to think, all thoughts of this being a test fleeing his mind as instinct kicked in and a roar like a diesel tank coming to life echoed across the battlefield, accompanied by the smell of fire, ash, and burning flesh.

He drove his weight forward into the shadow before him, its blade finally losing the battle to the heat, and slagging into molten steel across his arm which was assimilated to heal his wound. He was met by a shield. It lasted about as long as you'd expect against someone whose blood could melt swords.

He dug his talons into it. The shield had no innate magic of its own to repel him, so he took it, and he turned it against its master. The shield warped in on itself, the edges turning back and turning thorny, digging into the inky flesh of his enemy, but it didn't fall, not until his talons found purchase in its throat, ripping, gouging and tearing with all his might, with animalistic ferocity, and a growl that would be feral if not for it sounding like a roaring engine, that would terrify him later, but for now, as he tore one of the shadows heads from it's torso, and threw it to the ground at his feet, he felt more alive than he could ever remember being.

His enemies had not been idle however. As he was reveling in his kill, three more beast had advanced on him. Swords digging in to his side, and his back, where his kidney should have been, he couldn't be killed by such mundane means, well not in such small numbers, but it still hurt.

The force of the strikes made his head pitch forward into the path of the next sword, the third and final sword, it's history just as vial as the last, he hated them, the swords more than those that wielded them, they were abominable. It was aimed to sever his head through his mouth, that was not a wound he was eager to test his survivability against.

“Look what I caught.” He mouthed around he blade clenched in his teeth, his own blood dribbling into his mouth, and being absorbed in a perpetual cycle, the sword cut his cheek open giving him a wide joker smile, the Shadow struggled the pull the blade free, but he wouldn't have it, he bit through the blade, and with a maniacal laugh full of blood lust, and a roar of adulation, he tore the shadows throat out with his teeth, while still impaled by its allies.

He wasted little time after that in turning their blades against them, taking a number of wounds of his own in the process, but in his mind it was a foregone conclusion. Like the sun rising, or setting. As sure as those two things, these things would die. He headed where he'd seen the ogre set a girl down, as the rabbit lady was over there too. He probably should head over to help kill the leader, but if they needed him for that, they'd say so.

“It's about time I made myself useful.” He said, and strode with grim purpose towards the main battlefield, and his allies therein.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Dan Breeze Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde Character Portrait: Niko Neventelde Character Portrait: Spindel Peridot

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#, as written by duramon

He had issued a challenge and the prey had accepted, charging at him with ignited blade and reckless abandon. The spark fancied himself a roaring flame, he would be shown his folly. He dodged under the charge moments before the attack reached him, bringing up a fist towards his opponents exposed gut with locked elbow, the prey would not survive. However it was not to be, a greater prey had arrived and fastened its hand around his wrist, the blow did not connect however the hidden burst of blue flames projected forth as intended and engulfed the area his original opponent had occupied, before he could react an elbow smashed into his helm and he found himself bouncing along the ground until his fist found purchase and allowed him to halt the movement.

A small crack ran across his visor and extended on to the left side of his helm. When the dust finally settled, the man from earlier stood just in front of the flames, but he looked younger with blonde hair and a lack of facial hair, it was no matter he had an opponent. He analyzed the mans weaponry, two obsidian gauntlets double the size of the mans actual appendages tipped with glowing claws, where the gauntlets ended at the elbow a torrent of pure white energy flowed. Not unlike his own steam did, except it seemed to have another purpose, scales of some description growing across the mans skin from the points the light made contact.

He had the luck of facing Aizen, his enemies leader. It was fortunate luck was not something that even entered his mind.

Hexagons of black ran through his suits arms, copying Aizen's gauntlets and stopping just before his elbows, they were fully re-enforced and the battle was to begin. His opponent made the first move,darting across the battlefield and swinging a fist directly at the hunters helm again, a blow that was returned in sync as a metal arm collided with the mans gut. An audible crack rung out and both opponents were sent back several meters from each other, blood splattered the sands and his helm had caved in at the left cheek.

The two continued to trade blows, fists occasionally colliding and spreading the force out across the terrain, tearing through the sands and glassing the area around them, whirs of steam and pulsations of light flinging around the battle-field every time the two collided, both sent flying and eventually colliding again further away until they arrived in an area away from the battlefield. So that had been his plan, regardless the two stood across from each-other and scans of his opponents vitals showed that he was losing. Aizen had several broken ribs and blood trickled down his fore-head due to a fractured skull, but his own armour was shattered and caved in several places.

The hunters helm was half destroyed and both his right rib-cage and right leg armour had been torn apart. Aizen stood across from him and with a sudden pulsation of light charged, an act that KH4 mimicked with his steam to meet him in the centre of their glass battlefield. The two black gauntlets collided in the centre and parted as Aizen slammed them into the ground, smashing a crater into the glass below and sending shrapnel into both fighters, a gauntlet swung through the dust and was caught by a black metal hand, the blow returned in kind and traded with legs, elbows and eventually a punch that shattered the hunters gauntlet entirely.

Aizen roared once and leaped forward, swinging a fist back-handed towards the hunter, who swiftly leaped into the air and re-enforced his leg in a flash as it slammed down onto Aizen's skull with full force. There was a sickening crunch and roar as the ground around the fighters erupted into the air, he had won, his prey stumbled on what little platform remained and suddenly threw an upper-cut that collided with the helm to shatter its jaw.

Stunned KH4 stumbled backwards, met with a roar as the mans left gauntlet was brought back to slam into his chest, the other meeting his arm, his skull, a knee slamming into his left thigh to give his opponent enough leverage to smash a twisting kick into the hunters jaw that rocked his head backwards. This couldn't be happening, he would not fail, he could beat Aizen! He looked up as his vision cleared and saw a brief explosion of light that engulfed the entirety of the area behind Aizen, before with perfect footing a bent right arm launched itself forward to collide with what remained of his chest armour.

The sands and glass and scorched earth surrounding the far off combatants did not erupt, it simply ceased to be. Obliterated in its entirety aside from a small stone platform that Aizen stood on, his fist still connected to his foe until a shock-wave erupted forth, shattering what remained of his foes armour and sending him flying back into the battlefield with a slicing gust of wind. A black slug-like being colliding with the earth inside a large group of husks, the wind that followed slicing them into mere piles of dark meat.

The leader of The Nameless slowly made his way back to the battle-field, his weapons slowly falling away as chunks of black stone that rolled into the sands he leaped across, and as the last stone hit the earth and he arrived back at the defensive line, the large slug faded out in a blue light.

Apex Flood
Apex frowned to himself as the insect flitted across his vision to land upon his right shoulder, a large slug he knew to be KH4.Z1X, his hunter. Fading into existence upon his palm and with what he could only assume was an apologetic movement, slinking itself into his armour and settling within a small compartment designed like its armour, to perfectly replicate its home environment.

His husks were few in number and spread out, it would not be long before this battle was over and not in their favor. Were it not a loss on his records it would not bother him, this battle was not his after all. He raised a hand to order a halt of his officers and growled "We return to our base, we have lost this battle. However as a parting gift, Raylee, Revive the husks on the left of the battlefield and the right. Bless the current numbers weaponry, I will have them lose more men before this is through." It was little more then a quarter of their number, but it would give them time to Finish off a few more members and leave unabated. The Leonal did as he was commanded and a holy light washed across the battle-field, clinging to the husks weapons and armour as it picked the rest up from their possible third deaths.

The rest of his officers muttered their own distaste but dare not question him, most understood his orders, others simply did not care. The Large Golem Vorin in particular let out a loud rumble that could be mistaken for a cry of attack, leaning down and reaching out from his current position to scoop up his allies and place them upon his chest just below the large crest. They would observe the battle from here before making their way to their masters, mainly for the sake of honor. To leave before the battle was complete was true cowardice.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix

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He had a purpose, he was set on that purpose, he was immediately distracted by a streak of red screaming across the battlefield.

“That's not normal.” He rumbled out, watching with some curiosity.

He ignored the enemies before him for a moment, stopping in his tracks to follow the progress of the yet unidentified person or thing. He looked ahead of it, towards where it was headed, and started running in shock.

How could I have missed this? He thought, as he watched the blades rise, their long and vile history of bloodshed coming to him in a rush, all at once it came, he ignored it, he wasn't as fast as the red streak ahead of him, but he was fast enough, and his steps never faltered as the red haired man was impaled by a multitude of blades.

“impressive.” He muttered, little breath to spare for words, but it was something else that he was still standing, let alone able to use ice like that. This world is insane. This world is amazing.

Something changed in the air as he drew closer. It wasn't the womans magic, the purple glow over the red ones wounds, nor was it the energy of any of his “allies' No, he'd felt the strongest of them moments ago, as he blew away the enemies giant, it was something else. Something was wrong.

Even as he had those thoughts a pulse, a wave of holy gold light swept the battlefield, surely something as beautiful as that would be in their favor against these abominations, he'd thought. Right up until the light began to cling to their enemies weapons, and the enemies fallen.

Luckily only a small number rose from the ground their movements jerky, as if they were waking up from a deep sleep. All around the edges of the battlefield they rose, a mockery to the men and women who'd died to slay them.

It made him angry, hateful, and in his path rose a single reborn shadow, the body of the one who'd given there life to kill it laying next to it as the beast rose, a sacrifice wasted, squandered, being spat upon by their enemies. He would make sure the beast hurt no one else.

His blood sang to him the steel and iron, and lead, all manner of metal running through his body called for the beast blood, and he gave it to them. A pounding began in his ears. Before the monster had even full risen he'd shorn it's head open, never even breaking his stride.

He didn't stop to think on why he was suddenly hearing voices, or the sound of a hammer striking an anvil in his head, reforging what needed to change, it was too loud, too terrifying to contemplate. So he ignored it, and ran towards his destination, the enemies were heading towards them now, not revived ones, but aberrations glowing with holy light, like some kind of sick joke, he hated them all, and he let them know it in the next instant.

He was incapable of rational thought at that point, his body was running on instincts he wasn't even aware it had. It was so loud, too loud, the hammer rose, the hammer fell, the voices called for blood between each strike, something was building inside him, he could feel it, he didn't know what.

Smoke spilled copiously from his mouth as he roared his mechanical roar at the approaching enemies, he called to their abominable blades, but something told him it wouldn't work before he did it.

Instinct, instinct, instinct! The instinct of an old blade, of an old warrior, of all the battles he'd never seen, never fought, but had experienced through steel, iron, and bronze. It all spilled out of him in a single roar, a single rippling wave of heat, and a line of red hot steel spilling forth from his mouth, he whipped his head in a circle, surrounding the two behind him and himself in a glowing line of molten metal.

“Cross the river, and die.” He spoke, solidly, clearly, the words coming unbidden from his mouth a whisper of smoke following after, he was waiting for something then, but he wasn't sure what, something inside him had changed, had been reforged. The enemy would see the result.

They hesitated for but a moment, they were mindless things, he thought, little regard for themselves, spurred on by a dark hatred and a need for blood he could understand, but never agree with. So when they crossed his Line of steel, he spoke and the river answered.

“I told you not to cross my River of Thorns.” The still molten steel burst up from beneath them in jagged spires. None were spared, all were impaled, not all died, those that didn't screamed as they were burned by the red hot nature of steel straight from it's forge, he ignored it. Fatigue hitting him all of a sudden, the haze that had settled over him fading, he would freak out later, he told himself for now he turned to speak to the ones behind him, and he fell to a knee, then back on to his butt, unable to hold himself up any longer.

It was then that he noticed the state of his clothes burned and singed as they were, covered in blood and slashes, the bottom of his long coat ragged, he looked like he'd just ran through a war zone.

With a grin he looked at the people before him and spoke with a laugh. “Hell of a day, yeah?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender

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#, as written by Zalgo
Pravus was striding towards the machine that was tearing through their ranks but before he could put his battle plan into action it seemed the apparent leader of this group he was fighting for took the fight into his own hands, quite literally given the weapons. The clashes of the two were sending out powerful blasts which were mutilating the battlefield around them as a result of their conflict. After hits were traded the leader of the forces he fought for this day broke the construct, revealing it's host to be a small slug like creature. The two parted their ways and that was that. No more construct for him to fight.

He looked around at the current situation, evaluating the numbers and strengths of each side in order to determine where he was needed most. Much of the nameless forces were either killed or gravely injured in the chaos of war but the shadow warriors were faring worse than his forces were. Given the current trend in ratio of deaths to kills he estimated that his side would win if they simply kept at the pace they were killing at currently.

What he didn't factor in was the sudden use of magic by one of the remaining lieutenants. The remaining numbers of the husks were enhanced while many of the slain forces rose from the dead to fight once again. The lieutenants proceeded to take to the safety of the golem and watch the battle unfold from above. He wondered why they didn't just start the battle that way, casting from a literal walking fortress while the foot soldiers chopped away at his numbers.

This tactic was not one Pravus was unfamiliar with. In many battles his legion had with necromancers they would throw their disposable minions at his fellow men and resurrect all who die in the battle, giving the necromancer an edge with each death regardless of who dies.

This current tactic did change the dynamic of the battle however. His forces deaths to kills ratio would climb higher given the enemies bolstered numbers. He did wonder about his enemies using divine magic like a necromancer would use their magic but that was a question to be contemplated later, not in the heat of combat.

Pravus felt it would be needed to fight more conservatively since every loss counted a lot more with the current number of enemy shadow warriors being what they were. He spied out in the thick of combat the incubus from earlier being healed by a healer of some sort way too far out into the enemies space. Most of the healers did their healing from behind the lines so the fact one had gone out and put both herself and the victim at risk was simply irresponsible. He was not here to judge though, he was fighting to survive so that he may bury the dead who lost their lives in this battle before moving on.

He trudged on over toward the two. A shadow warrior with the enhanced weapon and armor stepped in front of him for whatever reason was going through it's head. It attacked with a wild overhead swing but he blocked the strike with the middle of his shovel before shoving the attacker almost literally off his feet. He didn't need to defeat their armor in order to defeat them. He just needed to disable them until the defensive line pushed them back up to where he was. From there the answer's simple. Killing more equals better.

Before he arrived at the incubus's location a construct from his own side came forth, using it's elemental abilities to shape metal into an effective weapon, driving off oncoming shadows. It killed many before exhausting itself, something Pravus had as an advantage over it in such regards. After the metal man collapsed from exertion he stepped in to fill in as a defense.

Standing at firm attention in front of the three he fought the shadow warriors away from them, parrying swords and other various weapons with his shovel while striking back with strong thrusts capable of piercing through their flesh and bones in order to help keep a distance between them. Though they came, their weapons strong and their urge to kill stronger he countered ferocity and magic supplementation with skill and tireless strength, weakened as a result of the damage from his battle with the wretched plague beast but still strong enough to kill his enemies, buffs and all.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Regulus Arcanus Character Portrait: Dan Breeze Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde Character Portrait: Niko Neventelde Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

0.00 INK

Qwerty, aka Experiment 'Sludgepile', was having bitter-sweet feelings about today. Considering the recent events that transpired since he, though technically he was an it, having been transported here shortly after his latest success story in the murdering business, it was definitely the strangest day he had. This was a rather impressive feat, due to him being a sentient human-shaped pile of organic sludge wearing sweatpants and clasping on a pair steel pipes as clubs. Having gone through from a sudden series of rapidly changing events, Qwerty had ended up in the thick of a grand battle, perhaps even large enough to be a small war of sorts, and was loving every minute of it. However he was immensely infuriated when he was met with the sight of various husks being resurrected from the dead, while others that were already among the living were bolstered in strength, snarling in rage and frustration at the shadowy underlings, especially those that fell by his own hand earlier.

"You got to be f***ing joking! Do you b***ards have any idea how hard it was to murder that many of them? Sure it was a right laugh, especially the fella whose head I squashed by bashing the two pipes together, but they did tons of slashes and smashes and other injuries beginning with S's on me!? Granted some of them have healed up now, that's the case with this weird healing factor junk I got, but one of them tried to chop my head off! The c**t! If there dead, leave em dead, ain't fair otherwise you cheating cowards!", Qwerty babbled furiously, having indicated to various wounds that adorned his sludgy body, including a clean stab wound through his side, a missing toe, and the previously mentioned incriminating attempt of cleaving around half way along his long snake-like neck. It was obvious he was hampered by the numerous wounds on his body, his already cumbersome speed impeded as well as his advantageous strength, and though his wounds were still healing, it was occurring at a snails pace. He wasn't ready for being in the thick of it and he begrudgingly knew it.

As the husk hoard approached, Qwerty made the shaming decision to retreat, an action he never was comfortable with, but saw it necessary as he began lumbering towards the defensive line, grumbling under his breath as the shadowy underlings were figuratively and occasionally literally nipping at his heels. He hastily battered back a few husks that got too close, desperately pushing them back with his great steel pipes he wielded as clubs, as well as spitting clumps of acidic slime, as well as adhesive slime, in an attempt to slow their numbers, still scrambling towards The Nameless and fellow competitors striving to survive.
"This just ain't f***ing fair I tell ya! reviving the dead while im heavily injured is just a wimpy loser way of a come back!" Qwerty raged to no one in particular, now at half-way to what appeared to be an iron fence that wasn't there earlier, with all sorts of combatants fighting nearby.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender

0.00 INK

#, as written by Zalgo
Pravus fought from behind the metal fence the construct had formed around them. They were at the forefront of the shadow's assault, their little structure bearing the brunt of the strongest soldiers these dark warriors had to offer: the blessed survivors. He thrust the end of his shovel at the exposed neck of one of these enhanced shadows through the gap in the various metal extrusions separating them, cutting deep through it's jugular which put it out of the fight in the long run. For now it fought on with what little time it had left to fight with.

But there were more and worse yet, they were learning from each others failures. These blessed units may not have had the years of veteran training he possesses but having survived for this long into the fight they were starting to better defend themselves, starting to exploit weaknesses in their enemies.

Even though he tried to keep them away from his metal fence, viciously stabbing at every one of them that came close, there was little he could do about the end result. The blessed shadow's hacked and beat upon the fence with their swords, pressing against it with their shields as the prongs chipped and bent. The spikes brought forth by the construct were quite sharp but rather thin, not designed to properly repel an enemy force's full on assault. Even a solid spiked garrison would fall in these circumstances however as the only ones defending it in particular were him and it's maker.

Looking back towards the nameless he saw the main defense line had been pushed back, the blessed warriors who weren't concerning themselves with the two of them had swarmed around the spiked road block to engage the line with their best and brightest. In his distraction Pravus felt a blade come through an opening in the fence and pierce through his armor in the lower left torso, just above the hips. A shocking sensation struck him as he felt the magic of their blades bring about a long forgotten feeling: Pain. The holy energy in the blade served to dredge about an old sense as old and seemingly distant as his other memories, jolted forward into the present by the all too familiar sting. As the blade drew from his side the pain lingered as a real wounds suffering would. He grunted, falling back from the side he was injured from before regaining his composure.

Despite the pain he fought through it, forcing himself to fight on regardless of injury. Lowering the grip on his weapon he gave himself a longer reach with the head of his shovel. He brought it high above his head and feigned to strike a separate enhanced shadow before twisting around mid motion and bringing the edge of his shovel down upon the arm which previously held the blade that had wounded him so, leaving a blessed shadow warrior wandering about the battlefield clutching only a shield.

Despite Pravus's efforts, felling a good number of these divinely blessed shadow fighters, the fencing around them was about to collapse, inviting the remaining survivors to flood on in once it yields. He knew he'd need to fight his way back to the line should that occur but with the weapons being enchanted in the matter they were he stood a very good chance at being cut down upon trying to bypass the shadows which had opted to go around them and engage the Nameless's lines directly. He braced himself, standing next to the metallic humanoid as prepared as he was ever going to be at this time.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Dan Breeze Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde Character Portrait: Niko Neventelde Character Portrait: Spindel Peridot Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

0.00 INK

#, as written by duramon
The beginning of the end, the end of the beginning.

It was with a bang, and not a whimper, that a new being arrived to the field of battle. His stitched and scraggly top hat perching perfectly atop his head and a mask that hid his features jolting slightly as he thumped into the ground just ahead of The Nameless defensive line gracefully. His limbs not reacting to the fall he had partaken of from the outer edges of this material plane as he strode forward with the tapping of a cane held loosely in one gloved hand, it was mere moments after he landed that the entire ground upon his landing point was eviscerated along with the husks that had arrived. A cavernous hole created and flooding with the sands slowly as he proceeded to walk towards the main combat and its participants, a husk with glowing blade leaped towards him, and was swiftly met with an elbow to the jaw that surely would have sent the creature flying. Had there been any creature left to move, however instead the man lowered his elbow and continued walking with the world perpetually slowed around him.

He eventually arrived at his destination and removed his top hat and mask, propping them upon his cane which he lodged into the ground at the centre of the battlefield. However despite his entirely uncovered features no matter what way you looked at him, it was obvious he had a face and head, features like any other being, yet none could be seen and nothing was truly visible. Not even an out-line of hair, and yet it was certain he was not bald, his teeth and glowing red eyes were visible however, both horrifyingly sharp and equally able to rend flesh from bone. However it was with presentation of these teeth in an impossible grin as he removed and began the placement of these objects which began the beginning of the end, a strange dark aura manifesting in reality behind him, he kicked the cane up from the ground and allowed it to fly carelessly into the battlefield with his personal affects, and began his work.


He first launched himself into the nearest armoured husk, leaping into the air and slamming a knee into its skull, a hand reaching behind it to grasp its ally to use its own head as a pivotal point, a point he used to spin his body in a hurricane of kicks that crashed through husks and sent waves of wind that tore through rows of their brethren beyond the initial point. Upon landing he flashed far across the battle field and planted his footing solidly upon the sands, an open palm and rigid fingers meeting a husks spine as the momentum of his travel passed into it with full force, along with several thousand volts of electricity that chained across the immediate area, his eyes met a group fleeing to the back line, a monkey woman receiving the full penetrating gaze he laid upon the collective group.

He continued to flash all across the battlefield, elbows, knees, fists and palms colliding with husks at a rapid pace in dozens of fighting styles. Each impact shaking the entire battlefield or passing some form of power along through the enemy lines until eventually mere seconds after his arrival half of the enemies remaining forces had been wiped out, he finished off one more blessed husk with a flipping kick that left him sailing through the air in the opposite direction to its skull. It was with a light thump then that his top hat returned to his head and the mask landed perfectly in his coat pocket, the cane spinning and landing in his out-stretched hand as he floated above the remaining fighters.

With a graceful spin he landed upon the ground and brought two hands together, a clap ringing out that silenced all other noise as the man, or perhaps the creature ,placed its hands swiftly upon the ground, a dark energy flowing through its finger tips for a moment before it stood. Corrected its top hat and its tie and deftly stepped out of the way of a fountain of blood to its left, one that was simultaneous across the battlefield as the remaining army erupted into a fountain of gore and destroyed armour. An eruption that was followed by a shock-wave of shaking earth and immensely strong wind that threatened to blow away those who were uncharacteristically weak. The silence that had flooded the battlefield finally lifting with a roar of noise.

It was with this final hurrah that the man dissipated entirely, a piece of parchment floating down to a certain marble skinned Incubus bait within the field, containing a name of an inn, and the blood enscribed symbol that almost whispered its own name "Apocalys". In the distance atop the hill which all this had begun, the retreating head of a temple like Golem could be seen, the Grasslands clear of all its hostile life.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender

0.00 INK

#, as written by Zalgo

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender

0.00 INK

#, as written by Zalgo
He was preparing for the metal fences inevitable failure when an enigmatic character presented itself upon the field. A strange figure in well worn clothing adorned with a patchwork top hat and a mask which obscured it's features crashed into the melee, scattering many of the enemy shadows in it's wake or so he saw from his position.

After the dynamic entry Pravus wasn't entirely able to see the whole event. He caught several glimpses of the strange figure, now hatless and without it's mask, running about punching and kicking wildly at the many shadows. He could tell significant damage was being done to the enemy forces from the occasional sights of the enemy warriors being knocked through the air. After some time the stranger recalled it's belongings as it used some form of magic to stand suspended in the air as though it were earth beneath it.

When the figure descended he could not see what it did but it's effects were clear enough. There was a sudden silence that drowned out all other sounds on the field. The remaining enemy forces all exploded in a gory mess followed by a massive blast of wind. He held his ground as the wind hit, refusing to topple under the air's rush.

After that the figure was all but gone with little left but dead bodies and a small piece of paper which flitted it's way over towards the incubus. He looked around to see there was no more combat underway, only the dead and those who he had fought for if for no other reason than to survive this battle. He noticed that in the wind blast had knocked his hat off but luckily it had caught on one of the metal spikes. He simply walked over and took his hat off of the sharp metal protrusion, setting it back on his head.

He stepped over to a space in the wall where the various metal blades were beaten and bent. There was a narrow gap the now dead shadows had made in it. Keeping careful mind not to catch himself on any of the sharp points or edges he climbed through the opening and over some dead bodies which had been trodden on and pushed up against the base of the fence by the feet of the previous blessed attackers.

Over the hill the head of the golem could be seen disappearing as the remaining lieutenants left the scene of the battle. Looking down the field was a mess. The magic used by the stranger had killed the remaining shadows in such a way that made them unburiable. On top of that many of them were destroyed by the many magics used during the battle. He was not opposed to the use of magic in warfare but the stranger's parting spell was gratuitous in Pravus's own opinion. He was not pleased to say the least.

He made his way around the bodies, searching for an open space of ground ideal for burying them. With his shovel resting upon his main fighting hand's shoulder he strode up to the top of the hill and looked out towards the direction the golem and remaining lieutenants had retreated towards, searching the landscape for any signs before he'd resume his solemn duty as a Grave Tender.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: Dan Breeze Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde Character Portrait: Niko Neventelde Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

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#, as written by duramon
Rest arrives in The Nameless abode, and gratitude arrives in the form of breakfast interrogation

There was no rest for the wicked, and so the good could not rest either, or at least that was the way he looked at it. Without pause Aizen dashed across the battlefield, a tapestry stretching from his original point and reaching the rabbit woman who lay mostly healed next to the corpse of her savior, an alien woman whom had healed her amongst the midst of battle. With a delicate sigh he slid her eyes shut with an out-stretched hand and slammed the tapestry's wooden end into the ground beside The Black Rabbit, picking up her broken form in gentle hands and lightly nudging the tapestry with one elbow. It had been expensive to purchase, but it would seem worth it as the battlefield began to glow, the remaining people and the defended innocents vanishing under the glow of a large arcane rune. The recruits taken with them for the ride as the large group stood in a rather extravagant mansion, or at least one that used to be extravagant, at the current moment it looked more worse for wear.

With a light huff he lifted a hand in the air and with a slam and click the mansion shut down, the windows closed and the doors shut and an arcane buzz ran through out the floor boards. They would be safe for now, or at least he hoped they would, a few of the younger nameless squeaked or sobbed after the ordeal and he took a moment to go around with the older members to re-assure them and comfort those whom had lost family or close friends in the battle. Eventually returning to his place as everyone but himself vacated to various parts of the mansion, ushering along children and teenagers with encouraging words even as they wiped the blood off of themselves, they had been through this ordeal before and it would not be the last time.

With his final reassuring smile given out, an angered frown hung across his face. His blonde hair grew out slightly and a beard pushed through his jowls to surround his mouth, a smokey grey colour that now matched his hair, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared down the group of recruits whom had stayed behind to assist for one reason or another. "You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves. The same offer from the recruitment stands, but only for those who are useful for more then just hitting, their is no room for cannons in a game of survival and I need people who can do more then just fight, people who have the right morals." He quickly affirmed, with a grunt and half a growl as he picked at a piece of rib that had pierced through his torso.

"Temporary lodgings are up the stairs and to the left, you each get a room to share with a person of your choice, choose wisely. Tomorrow morning once we've made sure we are under no further threat I will come to your rooms and each pair will individually explain their reasoning and justify why I should trust them with my people and to represent them in further guild games. If you make the cut I'll De-brief you and bring you up to speed on everything that's going on, and what exactly this world is, if you don't its the same deal as the recruitment. You go home. A certain red headed demon is resting in the farthest room facing the front of the building, those who require healing will find their lodgings sufficiently enhanced by magic for their particular needs." He said, turning without another word for a moment and heading between a gap that had created itself in the wooden stairs, stairs that now split into two pathways one to each side of the upper levels, as the gap closed and the stairs re-formed he gave the recruits a kind smile and half-whispered "Thank you, all of you." before the gap closed and he was lost within the walls of the stairs, unbeknownst to them immediately taking his place by the bed-side of a particular rabbit-eared woman, his fingers templed at a peak in front of his face, resting on an unstable thumping leg as he began his vigil by her side.

The recruits and any others that had been pulled along were left alone to decide their partners for lodging, the candelabra's lining the walls fluttering out as the flames died low and eventually extinguished to leave the mansion in darkness, after all the fluster and teleportation the mansion would have simply looked worn and empty and the darkness would serve to keep this true for the new comers to its fold, it was with a rush of wind that the upper west levels of the mansion lit up, a singular candle waiting on a table by the door of each lodging.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

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It took him a moment to realize the woman wasn't going to respond, panicked as she was, possibly even in shock, He could feel the foul beasts weapons moving towards his wall of spiked death, the metal still red hot, it wouldn't cool for some time. It flared in heat with every breath he took, the cherry glow lighting up on his inhale and ebbing when he breathed out.

“That's not normal.” He said. He could feel it. This wall, these thorns, this garden of red hot death, it was his, he could feel it in his bones, like an extension of his own arm he could feel it. It made him sick, corpses impaled on the ends were being cooked gradually, others already having caught fire, even still, their allies impaled on what passed for his fortress, the empowered dead marched on them.

“Some fool is out there...” He mouthed the words, a laugh almost spilling from his mouth as he said it. They must've been on the way to rescue these two. He thought, a grin splitting his face in that moment, “Too slow~” He said, his voice a singsong tone, the day was weighing on him, he could tell. The cacophony in his head had died down to a low rumble, but he could tell, if he needed more, he could call it forth. The repercussions for him however, would likely be bad.

He could feel their weapon as it swung, couldn't see it, didn't bother trying. They would be pushed back soon. The stranger that is. Into the burning phalanx. In his mind their was no point in seeing a dead man. He would find it ironic in years to come, just how literal those words were.

Just as he was ready to write them off as dead, a reasonable sacrifice in his opinion. One life for three others was a logical exchange, cheating death in a mathematical sense, the stranger burst through a gap in the wall. Insanity! His mind yelled, who would leap between a pair of forge hot, razor sharp spikes!?

Wayland lurched to his feet as shadows slammed against his barricade. A deep rumble echoing from his throat, the noise in his head completely silent. He was waiting again, calm like a bomb, just waiting to explode.

He called to the steel around them, he couldn't make more like he would have preferred. He could move it however. Making the area nearest the newcomer and himself thinner, less the burning phalanx, and more the smoldering fence. Why can't people stay as reasonable sacrifices, and not endanger my life? He joked internally

He used the excess to enshroud the wounded man and the woman with him in a metal dome resembling the closed bud of a flower. He reinforced it to the best of his ability, drawing the heat out as not to cook them, that done he turned his mind back to the battle.

Wayland was spent. Wayland was content, content to let this man fight as he watched, using the tiny power he had left to keep the wall up, and that was it. Well, if they do get in here, I can always retreat inside the flower. He thought, patting the surface of the now cooled construct proudly. I've done enough fighting for one day.

It wasn't much later, as he could feel the wall around them ready to collapse that he was preparing to retreat to secondary defensive position B, codenamed the flower in his head. It was actually only named, and codenamed in his head, but that was irrelevant. He'd admit the guy was a decent fighter. He could see that in his shovel, see part of the mans history in it, but that was irrelevant also. Not his past, and he never intended to fight using a shovel.

Anyway, his mind was wandering. He was slipping, so damned tired, he blinked, and stumbled forth in shock, he'd slumped against the flower asleep, in the middle of a battlefield. He couldn't see the shovel guy anywhere, so, either he was dead, or judging by the number of bodies, and the lack of sound across the field the battle was over, and he had slept through the end of it.

He shrugged, leaning back against the flower. Waiting for enough juice to return for him to let the people within out, when a glow ran across the ground beneath him, lighting up in some arcane language he'd never seen before. “That's not-” His words cutting off mid-sentence as he was once again forcibly teleported across space to a new location. “-normal.”

He'd found himself in an unfamiliar setting. The room, presumably even the whole house, once beautiful was now in a terrible state of disrepair. Cracks ran through the walls from the foundation settling, places where the ornately carved wood paneling should have been gilt in gold, silver, or other precious metals were bare, most likely torn loose to keep the obviously hard hit guild fed. He could understand that, what does it matter if you have the most beautiful home, if you yourself were starving to death in it?

He was too tired to flinch when the house locked down, seemingly by magic, too tired to question the fact that a few hours ago, he had though he was unique. Too damn tired to be lectured by the very people/person that had had them dragged into the conflict in the first place.

“Bullshit.” Wayland spat as the old man had his say, and wandered off to god knows where. He made his way up the stairs, ignoring the still slight smoldering of his clothes, barely acknowledging anyone around him. He didn't even notice the lack of smoke from his mouth, or the odd chill in his body.

He nodded at the few people he recognized, from the battle and ignored those he didn't. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second longer than he would normally consider decent on a certain silver haired woman, following her every move, igniting something primal in him. He found himself thinking about that as he shook off the alien feeling in his head, telling him to take her.

Between voices, hammers, and beautiful women. It was a wonder he was coherent at all. Those were Wayland's last thoughts before he crashed in the first empty room he came across.

The setting changes from phyrexian-grassland to The Garden


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Keres Leventis

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#, as written by Layla

In These Shoes

"There is too much blood in my alcohol system."

It was an ordinary day, filled with ordinary happenings. Monsters sprouted from the shadows, a monkey saved lives, a cat lady was attacked by a hunk of metal, a humongous rat tossed aside magical creatures, a grave digger helped the living survive, she made a deal with an unstable top hat and an incubus with the appearance of an angel - who was also her hunt - kissed, and saved her. Mmm, maybe not so ordinary.

Still, Keres found her attention drifting, perhaps in part to her curious upbringing. In Mithrandír, the realm of the Elves, time passed differently, sixteen years in Mithrandír might be a thousand outside of it, or two. Thus the ivory haired girl had a strange and distorted perception of time. She felt the events before her stretch with excruciating slow motion and eventually, she ignored it altogether. The crimson symbols coiling around her body repelled the magic and chaos that flew about her without much of Keres' conscious effort. The war about them seemed to miss where she stood, nonchalant, by pure coincidence. It was anything but.

She was dimly aware of the Mad Hatter appearing to protect the Nameless from her wild comrades and she pondered upon his peculiar intentions. Who was he? Who was he to River, in particular? That he would hire a cruel creature such as herself for intel? Hah, imagine if they were father and son, she mused. The Beauty and the Beast. Keres had been gifted with keen instincts for as long as she could remember. She was abnormally perceptive, and all she knew was that if she succeeded, Apocalys would grant her her deepest, truest, oldest desire.


“Do you plan to stay? We might share a room if you do.”

Keres batted the boredom out of her eyes as they darted around in search of the origin of the voice only to find she was no longer in that crumbling world. Cracks danced along creaking walls and faded tiles as light flickered every few feet, illuminating worn doors. Her nose twitched at the unpleasant concoction of damp, old wood, metallic blood and salty sweat. Taverns overwhelmed by burly, sweaty, bloodthirsty and woman loving men smelled better than this.

Then she found the origin of the voice, a slight, animalistic figure. Well, she thought. This certainly might make it to the top ten list of strangest events of today. Did she want to share a room with this monkey? No, not particularly. She quite liked her solitude and she wasn't particularly sexually attracted to the figure before her to want to share her chambers with it. Yet it was likely that it had information for Keres that would prove useful. She was, after all, meant to assimilate into the Nameless recruits. The tattooed girl's features shifted, her lips unfurling into a warm grin that revealed two rows of white teeth and a dimple in her left cheek. She looked like a different person.

"Of course," she replied with a voice like honey. "I'm Keres," she introduced with a swift curtsy. "And you are?"

She noticed then a towering male stumbling about and crashing into an empty room. Keres raised a sculpted brow at his clumsiness. She manoeuvred her features into one of concern, her brows furrowed in worry. "Are you alright, sir?" she called out, taking a few steps toward him. He did not look well in the least, more so than even all the other weary figures. "Do you require help?" Alas, years of sitting, bored out of her mind, through Elvish High Court proceedings came to her aid. The countless curtseys and forced smiles had not gone to waste. Keres was a marvellous liar.

The Nameless would not know what hit them until it was much too late.

The setting changes from the-garden to Phyrexian Grassland

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Keres Leventis

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#, as written by Ankti
The white woman’s face glowed with a blinding smile. Tiotio could not help but smile in return, feeling welcomed by the kindness she saw.

"Of course," the white woman said. "I'm Keres," she bent in a graceful courtesy, "And you are?"

Before Tiotio could answer, Keres turned her attention to another recruit, one who looked in need of aid. The concern was so evident in her voice and posture that Tiotio almost felt bad for not noticing how many others were in need of care. She wondered if this woman was a healer.

But Tiotio was no healer and could not be expected to care for the others. Though Tiotio could ignore her pain and injury during battle, her body was broken in so many places, and meditative hum of battle was no longer distracting her. Her curiosity could not overwhelm her physical need.

“I am Tiotio,” she said to the Keres, “and I’ll secure us a room. I need to recover. I will go there now. If, when you arrive, you wish to speak further, please do not hesitate to disturb me.”

She darted across the room, casting quick glances at the other recruits as she passed, recalling suddenly that this had all started with a game that had meant to pit them against each other, to fight each other for a place among the Nameless. She realized now, that game might still be going on.

She noticed the beak-masked man and the small girl talking to each other, she leapt over them, patting the man on the top of the head in a friendly gesture before turning down a hallway and entering a small room.

Two identical beds sat on either side of the room. There was a small wash basin on a table between them. Small bookshelves hung from the walls above each bed, bare, except for piles of dust and dead insects.

Instantly Tiotio could feel the magic the Nameless leader had spoken of. It made her drowsy, like a warm wave flowing through here, luring her to sleep.

She did not succumb, thinking about the game, about the challenge set on them by the Nameless. Surely the attack only strengthened their desire for worthy recruits, and with their test interrupted, they would find other ways to sort through those who remained.

Rather than let the warm waves now rippling through her lull her into the bed, Tiotio scrambled up the wall and perched on the narrow bookshelf. She rested her bo across her lap and closed her eyes, pushing her mind into a shallow meditative state, allowing her thoughts to peter out until emptiness filled her mind.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Keres Leventis

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It seemed like he had only been asleep for seconds when a voice like warm honey ran through his head, washing away his drowsiness with a strangely warm buzzing, asking after his own well being.

He could tell it hadn't been long by the sound of the other recruits still getting settled in, visiting with one another, or breaking down, and crying. There are worse ways to wake up. He decided, as he hoisted himself onto his side, then into a rough sitting position using the last of his strength.

It was the woman from before, the one that he'd seen downstairs talking to the simian woman. Her ethereal beauty as vibrant as ever, near taking his breath away as she took a graceful few steps towards him.

Do I require help? He thought, glancing at his surroundings. Noting his place on the floor, and his seeming inability to stand under his own power. His body felt so heavy, and he was cold. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

He mustered up the energy to give her his best smile, a cocky half grin, coupled with his tiredness. “I could use help into one of these beds.” He finished his sentence with a slight jerk of his head towards the closest bed in the room.

The setting changes from phyrexian-grassland to The Garden


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Keres Leventis

0.00 INK

#, as written by Layla

She's So Mean by Matchbox 20

"I know a girl, she gets what she wants all time cause she's fine."

“I am Tiotio,” the monkey replied, her expression as polite and unyielding to emotion as ever. “and I’ll secure us a room. I need to recover. I will go there now. If, when you arrive, you wish to speak further, please do not hesitate to disturb me.”

This animal speaks with better grammar than I do, Keres thought with a wry smile that she masked with a flutter of her sleeves. The chiffon material rippled with every flicker of her wrist and the butterflies beaded into them batted their wings at Tiotio. Keres lowered her arm and gave her newly gained roommate a gentle smile. "Of course. You must be worn. Rest well, Tiotio," Keres said before the creature went away with an uncanny grace. Not soon after, the man who'd stumbled into a room replied.

“I could use help into one of these beds,” he rumbled, his voice low and full even in injury. He had a fiery presence to him, a gaze like molten fire, a body rough around the edges and a face carved in sharp lines and stubble. If that were not enough to rustle her curiosity, his wicked grin was. She'd seen many men and women, human or otherwise, in her long, long stretch of existence - the devastation she'd endured when she awoke to a world withered and renewed whilst she'd stayed still. So. Very. Still. The weaving of bitterness and cockiness in his smile was one she recognised. He was a man who'd lost someone - perhaps more than just one - and there was nothing more dangerous than a man who'd lost a part of himself. She would be careful. She watched him for a few milliseconds, her assessing gaze imperceptible to anyone but the truly observant and experienced, as she attempted to pin his face to the images she'd gathered of the Nameless recruits.

Ah, Brimstone. Metal Man.

Keres had heard much about him. Rumours of course, but all lies had truth, if you could read between the lines. She replied him with her own entrancing, dimpled smile, furrowing her neat brows into one of concern. She hastily rushed toward him, his hands gently wrapping around his. Keres wrapped one of his arms over her shoulders as one of her own wrapped around his waist, and the other gripped the hand around her. "I apologise if this hurts," she said gently before hauling them both onto their feet with effort. "My," she huffed. "You are heavier than you look."

They stumbled to the nearest bed and she released him onto the mattress, gulping in breaths. Keres laughed, a small, ironic melody. "I expect to be carried much more elegantly by you should I require it, soldier," she teased. Keres pressed a hand over her mouth as a soft yawn slipped through. "Sorry," she mumbled, her mouth feeling heavy. She stumbled from foot to foot, blinking slowly as she gazed around the room. The crimson tattoos swirling around her arms shifted restlessly but ever so slightly, like livings things, trying to push the magic from her body. Keres reigned them in, not wanting to alarm the tall Nameless recruit. Not yet, she told the magic humming beneath her skin. Do not show them your power. Not yet. Besides, she was tired. Fingers poked and prodded at the edges of her vision. All magic has a price. And this is mine.

In order to follow River - whom she was certain would make it amongst the Nameless - and to infiltrate the guild, she must become a Nameless. Keres had to pass this phase of the mission. There was so much she wanted, but one above all else, and only Apocalys could give it to her. She would win, whatever the cost. Whoever Keres had to befriend, whoever she had to kill, she would.

"I should go," she muttered to Brimstone or herself. She turned her head to the weary figure on the bed as if seeing him for the first time, ivory strands slipping over her shoulder. Keres glowed in the darkness like a white angel - or a ghost. She tugged the blanket over him and appeared to absently brush his dark hair from his face. He's quite handsome. "Rest well."

When she took her first step into her room, she saw nothing. Where is the monkey? There. Keres kept her gaze atop a bookshelf and observed for a while the small figure. She took the bed closest to the door, folding her legs and resting her head on a knee. Keres wondered if she should disturb her roommate or simply leave her be. The answer was clear. She needed information and she needed alliances to be formed.

"So what is your story, Tiotio?" she asked softly as to not startle the still figure. "What brings you to these deadly tournaments?"

The setting changes from the-garden to Phyrexian Grassland

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Keres Leventis

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Soft hands, he thought as she took his in hers. She pulled his arm over her shoulder, and he gently, but firmly embraced it, bracing himself against her body as she snaked a slender arm around his waist. A silky hand once again on one of his hands, the one around her shoulder.

I should nearly kill myself more often. He thought, a wry grin stretching across his face, as with effort on her part, she hefted him onto a bed. He missed her words due to his exhaustion, not catching them again until he had settled into the mattress.

"I expect to be carried much more elegantly by you should I require it, soldier,"she teased. He laughed, a deep rumble echoing out from his chest, grinning at her tiredly, eyes flaring in time with his heart beat.

“But of course, Milady. It would be my honor, to carry you any where you like.” He grinned at her, the same as before, not sure she'd heard him, as she yawned, something like static buzzing in the air for a moment, before it was gone, almost as if he'd imagined it.

He blinked slowly, not entirely surprised when she said she'd go. She looked dead on her feet. He could sympathize. He'd called it ethereal beauty before, but there, in that room, in the black of night, he was enraptured by it, by her glowing skin, and her hair, like liquid moonlight, or threaded silver. He held his breath, too exhausted to move as she pulled the blankets over him, his head leaning into her hand as she moved aside his hair.

I really should ask her name... Was his last thought before sleep.

Wayland slept soundly that night, for the first time in years, he slept without nightmares a content smile on his face. Only time would tell if he could keep it, or if war, and betrayal would drive him to madness.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

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Qwerty stood there silently seething, seeming to be the least in peoples interests despite his bellowing, and, arguably warranted, was ignored quite a bit. He grumbled under his breath as he sulked in a spot away from the other competitors, a scowl of discontent upon his face as watched his competition. He had tired to be social, a task he had always been futile in if it was not directly involved with excessive violence or acts of gluttony, but yet again his attempts to raise some friendly interest toward shim were dashed aside, though he was completely oblivious to how hostile he sounded, and very much hindered by his coarse language.

He kept his glare as he watched the occurrences around him. A man reeking of smoke and wearing a long black trench coat wandered deliriously off to find a room of his own, as a pale skinned woman with a number of red tattoos adorning her body ask after the said man in concern, after having previously greeted a talking monkey that scampered off to pick a room also. Qwerty merely took note that none of them apart from the pale white haired woman looked pretty tasty to eat, though then remembered the guild leader would probably be pretty upset if he ate any of the contests. On the bright side he overheard two of their names; Keres and Tioto. He also noticed some bloke holding a shovel and reeking of death talking to a teenage girl and for some reason, some thin air that appeared to be holding up most of the other conversation. Qwerty decided these two were the barmy ones that enjoyed having in-depth conversations to things that weren't there, being completely oblivious to the very real existence of Myon, Aera's soul half. The fancy looking robed fella with silvery hair seemed to have slipped away without Qwerty realizing, as he saw that he was very much ending up as the only one left standing around without a room of his own.

He reacted to this fact with stroppiness, throwing his pipes to the ground in frustration and letting out a snarl until he decisively picked the pipes back up clumsily as he carefully tried to retain his balance when retrieving them. "Fine then, I'll just have my own room, you d**kheads.", the blob monster aggressively blurted as he began making his way to find a room to rest in for the night, lumbering along with his pipes yet again utilized as crutches, glaring at the competitors he passed on the way. As he did he suddenly had the whole 'test' situation on his mind, the word itself leaving a bad taste in Qwerty's gelatinous maw.
Hell, i'm probably going to fail miserably in this speech stuff that ripped guy wants out of us. Need to think of some lies to say. I definitely ain't going to tell him 'that' though. Nope, no way, even if it does have a better shot of getting me in., he thought in his simple brain, becoming uncharacteristically unsure of himself, feeling very much out of his comfort zone suddenly.
He then knocked upon one of doors with a great heavy fist, demanding; "Hey, anyone in there? And any space left? Better be f***ing honest if there is or not!", his voice filled with venom, but obviously had strain from exhaustion, his lack of energy having to begun catching up on him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

0.00 INK

#, as written by Ritnio
"That looks like a problem... Do you need help with anything? I can't fix the armor but I could maybe help with the injuries..."

Myon looked at the damage which had been done to him and suddenly flew over to a now sleeping Aera. Noting the still present knife blade in the thigh, she panicked. Jumping to the worst possible conclusion, that it would get badly infected and then lose the leg entirely.

Frantically flying about, she accidentally flew into a wall with....no sound at all as she flew through it. Much to her surprise she ended up in between the wall, unable to pass through what is behind it. She tried reentering her and Pravus' room but couldn't find it as she was lost.

"Oh no.....Who is going to believe this one? A phantom getting stuck in a wall. As if I have not caused enough problems, now there is going to be complaints about a phantom making noise in the wall. Why can't I fly through it?? I-It's so dark a-and scary.... Help me please!?"

She continued her cry for help which was muffled to anybody not inside the wall. To make things worse, she was flying around the building, passing by or through the rooms by the dark corridors which were the inside of the walls. Her cries must have disturbed a lot of people and she hoped nobody would be mad as she continued to look for a wall she could pass through. Perhaps the same energy which allowed her to take physical form is also preventing her from using her spectral form's ghostly abilities? Not that it mattered, all that really mattered was for her to get out of the walls before somebody punches a hole in one to shut her up.