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Post by Zarja on Apr 9, 2012 15:00:08 GMT -6
<<This is a forum for the storyline reguarding the disappearance of one of Silverion's guardians - Dimitri. This senario takes place in an Alternate Universe, where 2/3s of the world are being controlled by Damascus Duskstalker; the AU Dimitri. Here is known information reguarding the AU:
*AU Sakura is a priestess of Melody and one of the last remaining full fae left. *Damascus has all the orbs of Dragon Power, which allows him to control dragons. With an Amplifier, he can control almost every single dragon in the desert of his kingdom. *The world is very advanced Technology wise - think Mass Effect. As a result, there is not as much Magic in the world - it still exists, but not nearly as prominent. *There are very few fae in the world - Damascus has developed a weapon that, if used to strike down a fae, will absorb their essence/soul and trap them in the Amplifier - using their boundless energy to power the Orbs of Dragon Power. *Dragons still retain their individuality and remain chained beneath the sands until they are commanded to attack, at which point they become whitless slaves of Damascus. *Dragons have broken free before, but any who have attacked Damascus one on one have been delt with swiftly and any that break out in multiples are controled by the orbs before they can get out of hand. *Prisoners that are captured by Damascus are given two options - Convert or Die. Those that do not join his army are thrown to the dragons and Damascus is not above starving the dragons to ensure the prisoners are made a meal of. Those that do join Damascus' army have chips implanted within them that allows Damascus to have suggestive control over his military. It is suspected that even his closest of advisors was implanted with a chip as well. *Sadly, not everyone in this universe has a goatee. Other physical characteristics can change. Damascus, for instance, has Orange eyes rather than Blue like Dimitri, but that might be due to implants - no one knows.
That being said, until I can get on regularly again, I'm starting this post to RP events in the AU, to allow us to get a feel on this new place. Dimitri's evil, Saku's religous, the changes can be drastic or minimal. Have fun.>>
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Post by Radical Ace on Apr 10, 2012 11:38:47 GMT -6
[[Bwah! I'm very much looking forward to this. First questions up: in regards to the mindslaved dragons, would they have brief moments of lucidit? Like if they were held captive in bases, things of the like.]]
[*Edit* Answers obtained through MSN!]
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Post by The Dreamwalker on Apr 10, 2012 12:51:22 GMT -6
[Ooh, does everyone have goatees in this mirror universe?! Eeeeevil goatees! And Dreamwalker would be the bringer of good dreams, I guess. xD]
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Post by Radical Ace on Apr 11, 2012 18:45:53 GMT -6
[Would've been hilarious though.]
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Post by Zarja on Apr 15, 2012 1:01:01 GMT -6
[First post updated. Since Dimitri IS in this universe, I will RP both Dimitri and Damascus. Whoever wants to can go ahead and start.]
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Post by Radical Ace on Apr 16, 2012 11:45:59 GMT -6
[Woodkid - Wasteland www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5UJ9NOLiq0] "Most of my sweet memooories... were buried in the sand, The fire and the pain will now be coming to an end. How did you get to save me from this desolate wasteland? In your eyes I see the dawn of brighter daaays again..."Deep below in the desert underground, past the metal beams, pillars, gates and armored rooms, lay an immense warehouse. Though, warehouse would be a misnommer, on witnessing the immense prison-cages that were lined in rows. Such immense cages were required for the similarly-large beasts within. Dragons; they roared, they snarled, some struggled and others attempted setting fire to their captors. And then one sat there, singing. "With my tears you washed away the mud stuck on my hands. All the things you're trying to do make me a better man... Now I remember the joy and the taste of candy cane, The innocence of youth and the sound of major scales."The silver song dragon sat placidly while his bretheren struggled. Scar-covered from head to toe, he looked like he had every inclination to fight, even in his malnourished state. But fight he did not. Chains wrapped around his dark-maned neck, his wrists and ankles equally bound. Ram horns curled behind his head, and his green cat-pupil eyes stared out in the distant darkness of the room. "Most of whaaat I used to be had vanished in the waaaves, The memories of the boy I've been were drowning and you saved them. Now I remember the joy and the meaning of the fate! The color of the truth and the sound of sunny days...!"Monitors beeped nearby, keeping into account the song dragon's powerful voice. Any note too loud, anything even remotely close to hypnotism or with potential danger to the soldiers, and swift action would be taken. Word spreads through the room, and a group of armored figures comes forth to the cage. Quick orders are given to prepare this dragon to move. "Most of my sweet memories were buried in the sand..."The nameless Dragon-Soldier turned his head to the smaller beings, his expression empty while his voice rang on. "The fire and the pain will now be coming to an end!... How did you get to save me from this desolate wasteland? In your eyes, I see the dawn of brighter days again..."And far out in the distance, above the pillars of metal and the gates of iron, further above the sands, and even further into the distant mountains stood another figure. She stared on, while seeing nothing, but returning the unseen dragon's gaze. Dressed in what could only be described as "Mercenary Priestess garb", she wore plates over a fitted ceremonial robe of white and gold. Melody's emblem was woven into the cloths, and visible on a shoulder plate. A gold start-gem is set on her forehead, and sharp blue eyes held a certain fierce stare. Blond hair had been tied back, two familiar bangs still hovering near her face. Pointed ears suggested her elven, but she seemed too strong-built to be purely, if at all, elvish. A pair of shock-yellow insecti wings remain folded at her back. "They're on the move."
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Post by Zarja on Apr 19, 2012 4:44:27 GMT -6
The white tiger sat upon his rightful throne, his chin rested upon a fist while the other hand tapped impatiently on the bloodstained marble. Every time he sees it he recounts the day he had slain the previous king - far too soft, he was. No drive to expand them to their proper glory. After his father's head rolled onto the floor, he demanded that the blood be left for a day - an example as it were. Normally just glancing at it would bring the curl of a wicked smile unto his lips, but not even that would help now.
The shattered throne beside his own once belonged to their 'brother' clan. Again, just another block on his uprising. Now it sits - the only reminent of a once proud clan that Damascus couldn't be bothered to remember.
A guard finally approaches the throne, haste in his step. He falls immediately to one knee, bowing his head before addressing his superior, "Emperor Damascus, I bring news."
Damascus's free hand is raised as he looked at his claws. "It had better be about the fall of the Rebellion."
The knight began to shake, "N-no, sire. The song dragon. It sings again."
Damascus roared, rising from his seat, "When will that damn beast learn! No wonder you haven't squashed the rebellion yet. You can't even handle a little lizard!" A shot rang through the throne room followed by the collapse of the guard in a puddle of his own blood, "Clean that up. And give the dragon a dose of shock therapy. If you have more problems with him, bring him to me and I'll deal with him."
Servants waste no time in cleaning the mess - they are used to such events, sadly. In moments the remains are cleared and Damascus finds himself plopping onto the throne, rubbing his temples with one of his hands as the other dangled with his sidearm still clutched in it. "They get one warrior and suddenly they're invincible...I shouldn't have to worry about such lowly creatures..."
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The tiger glared at the distance, his piercing blue eyes staring at the same emptiness as the priestess, "Are you certain, your grace? We need to delay just a bit longer - Sai wouldn't let us down - we cannot mobilize until our reinforcements arrive, they will come."
His paw clutched his heirloom double-sword tightly. Though his words were certain, his thoughts teetered on uncertainty. It has been over a year - nearly two. Is it possible that they've forgotten him? He purged the thoughts as quickly as they had come.
Regardless, he had a world to save and no one - not even his opposite - will stop him from righting the wrongs committed on this plane.
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Post by Radical Ace on Apr 20, 2012 9:18:43 GMT -6
"I appreciate your confidence, Dawnwalker..." The woman muttered, still looking on to the distance.
"Yes, they're on the move. I can sense it. They're going North; it would be in our interest to alert what towns we can, have them migrate East if possible. I was hoping to be able to keep Archy by my side, but we'll need his speed." She sighs. "Can you make a note to alert him as soon as possible? He's rather hard to miss." She would reach into a strapped pocket, and toss out a small radio-like object to Dimitri. "Tell him to make it to Lion's Peak, make it quick, and for Song's sake, put some mufflers on his bike. Eliana Melody demands it. We'll meet him there."
Eliana finally broke her gaze, and turned away from the sight of the distant desert. She sets to walk, taking bold, swift strides. "The idea of other-realm aid is nice, but we can't rely on that, Dawnwalker. Sai is, while helpful..." She cringes. "Unreliable. I swear to you, if I wasn't trapped in this plane, I would do the inter-planar errands myself." While she sounded frustrated, a hint of sadness shadowed her face.
"... No matter, though. The truth is we aren't ready for a frontal assault, yes. We need to alert the forces, and--"
Eliana's eyes widenned as she took a sudden falter in her step. "--!!" She buckled down to one knee, cringing, hands gripping into the dirt as pain elecrified through her. "-AHH!!"
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Elsewhere, the Soldier-Dragon roared, followed by his collaspe.
His heavy body hit the stone in a ground-shaking thud, sparks of electricity still occasionally flickering through the cables woven in his chains. Green eyes stared out, blank, as he wheezed.
"Get up, Dragon."
The dragon flinched. His body protested every single twitch, but he takes in a deep breath. Shifting, he moved obediently onto all fours. It was easier to comply. Easier to survive in submission.
The guards let out a gleeful grin at the sight. Obedient dragons were hard to come by; most were feral beasts that had to be broken. This one though, this one seemed trained. Some worried the rider may still be out there, alive... But if he or she was, they most likely were already a soldier, and/or would most likely be useless without their mount. The worries are cast aside.
"Move."
Electrified whips cracked. The beast winced, but trudged on forward. His snake neck remained curved, his head close to his own nape in obedience. He knew what was coming the moment they took a turn away from the Cage-Room. This path, this direction was leading to the out. And they ever only needed him out for direct assaults. A low huff escapes him.
Hopefully, no one will be there to kill today...
~~~~~~~~~
Elsewhere, outside of dominant planerealms...
A pale figure stirs from under a grey-gold wing. He rested on a makeshift bed consisting entirely of books and scrolls, a single cloak acting as a cloth-barrier between skin and paper. The room itself was wide, shadowy, and seemed to hold no walls, nor were they neccessary. Furniture acted as barriers, and pages floated, as if stuck solid to unseen posts. Ecclectic collections of curiosities claimed spaces and the stone floor in the mage-fae's Studio, but papers, pages, books, prints, and art seemed to dominate the environment.
The rabbit didn't seem to mind. In fact, on seeing his space, he smiled. It felt good to be home.
Gently, he slipped out from underneath the Doctor's wing. Mius lifts up a hand, and twists a small orb of light into existance. All light in the room seemed to be pulled into the orb, before being unleashed out in the colors of sunsets and night-glows. He lets go of the orb, allowing it to float up above. Dark blue hues of light cloaked the room now, and seemed to accent the shadows into obscurity.
Confident his indecency is safe, Mius steps out from the bed of papers, fully nude, but dressed in shadow wherever required. He takes a stray, floating page, and takes a quick moment to fold it up in a well practiced skill. He would turn, and gently place the paper rose underneath the Doctor's wing and on his palm. A fond smile is given before he turns back to business at hand.
Mius walks forth, taking a brief moment to re-adjust the bloodstained, bandage-wrapped gold ribbon on his left arm. Minor distractions aside, he tosses a hand out. Papers lept at his command, rushing to surround him in swift-moving circles. He snaps both his fingers, and nearby books seem to explode; pages leaping out to join his floating forest. One done, he lifts up one hand, and a single journal sinks down to his palm. Smiling, he slowly turns the pages to read.
"So everything is going according to plan, after all... Beautiful, beautiful." He whispered. With great care, he removes a page from the book, and pastes it up in the air. Unlike the other floating pages, this one remained firmly in place. "Perfect." He grins. "Thank you, Inc."
Mius turns, fingers flicking up and palms out. Pages flit over in front of him like eager humming birds. Color-coded and each tagged with notes, some even had strings linking them to other relevant pages. Mius leans forward, inspecting a series of green pages.
"Ohhh, things are picking up! I knew it was worth the investment to start observing that plane. Good, good. And with Inc's aid, everything should flow freely... I can breathe." He sighs, laughing.
Pushing those pages aside, he pulled over new ones. A quill forms in his hand as he sets to change notes. "Some re-writing here... No, that wouldn't work... Oh! But what if...? HA! Okay, yes, that would be perfect. An excellent twist, no one will see it coming, not even me!" He gives the page a brief kiss, before shoving it far out into the abyss. "Now shoo, shoo, I need to forget you!" He cackles. "Oh this will be fun."
Sighing with amusement plain on his face, he takes a moment to adjust his glasses with a content smile. He turns his gaze back to the green pages. "... It seems this planerealm moves a tad slow... And my own studio's chronology matches this one the moment I decide to observe you. Tricky tricky, but, no matter. It gives us time. Plenty of time. A nice change of pace from Inc's realm, notably." He briefly scowls. How long was he in there? Weeks? Months? Two furrian days... He shakes his head, and goes to casually browse the rest of his floating library.
"No matter, no matter... All that does matter, is everything is falling into place." He would step back, and take in the sight of the tall spiderwebbing, floating forest. He smiles, awed at his gathering work.
"We're so very close now...!" He tosses up his fists in enthusiasm.
"The conclusion begins!"
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Post by Zarja on Apr 24, 2012 15:37:47 GMT -6
Dimitri caught the radio and about made the contact then and there until Eliana fell. Wide eyed, he slid to her side, "Your Grace! Grip onto me, don't let go." He clenched his eyes closed as he tried to hold her still - to comfort her. It's the same kind of connection his Admiral had to Koishe. He couldn't help but wonder if the dragon was one and the same as well...
As he tried futilely to soothe her, he grabbed the radio, "Command to Anarchy. Your directive is to head to Lion's Peak. The army is on the move, alert as many towns as you can! Radio once within 100 meters of the western perimeter and keep radio silence until you leave the area. You are to keep under the radar, this means muffle everything you possibly can, we need you silent."
Dawnwalker looked up to the sky, silently praying that his help would come and soon. He couldn't fathom how much longer this small militia was going to hold out...
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The Emperor slammed his fist as he rose to his feet. No matter. All he needs to quash these rebels is to take the rest of the world. Back them into the corner. When the world is against them, where could they hide. This warrior, though...
He stormed to his war room, watching the hologram of the globe hover in the middle of the room as he looked at various photographs of the rebels. This new warrior that appeared one year ago from in the middle of an arcane flux disturbed him so. There was something about him...
Others would have sworn it was Damascus himself had he not been fighting against his own armies. An interesting turn this has taken, but his entertainment has long since waned. He should have conquered this world by now. But if he were able to get this warrior on his side...
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Post by Radical Ace on Apr 25, 2012 11:39:24 GMT -6
Eliana let out a low growl, and pulled herself back to her feet with Dimitri's aid. "... Mindlinks. Never form them, Dawnwalker. I swear to you, once this war is over, I'm going to remove mine." She would sigh. She would dust herself off, in an all-too familiar movement of Silverion's Admiral. "Well then." With that, she set to walk again, as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, the radio in Dimitri's hand cracked to life with a laughing male voice.
"Dimitriiii! 'Sup mah man? Moving, huh? Well, no problem, I'm just 'round the area! Soooo... You want me to shut it all up before getting to you guys, or after?"
"Whichever is quickest." Eliana replied from a few feet away.
"Hm. Well in that case...!"
A distant roar of engines echoed out between the mountain valleys. It was swiftly approaching, screeching and snarling like some sort of mechanical beast. Within moments, what could only be described as a speeding fish-finned bike pierced itself straight up into the air, with another quick rev of engines. The vehicle landed with a heavy jolt, wobbling only once before charging straight to the duo on the hillside.
Eliana stared out. "...Wait what is heeEEE--!!" She reached out to grab Dimitri, and quickly haul both herself and him out of the way.
The bike sped just past, a wild cackle following behind. The bike would take a sudden U turn, and come to an abrupt stop some feet away. Hopping down from the bike was the cackling boy himself. A teenage cheetah-boy, just reaching his twenties. Gold fur with black spots, his hair remained a deep forest green; and seemed to have naturally formed itself to be spiked back from constant speed. He would pull a pair of goggles off of his eyes, revealing one to be cybernetic. his left hand also seemed to be a robotic replacement. His clothing; simple, functional: weather-worn pants and an enforced leather jacket over a plain tan shirt.
"DAMMIT ARCHY!" Eliana snarled.
Anarchy just lets out another cackle, wide grin on his face. "Hey! You asked! So, what's the dealio? Towns need evac', got it. Why am I here?"
Eliana gave a defeated sigh, and went about to remove her cape. "If anyone's going to take you seriously, you're going to need this." She pulls open the white, gold and pale blue cape, revealing Melody's symbol set in the center as one would with a flag. "Let them know I sent you."
Archy would take the flap with a nod. "Got it. I'll set the colors ablazin' once I get near." He would set to tie it around his waist. "Speaking of blazing, would you be opposed to say, once this is all done with, we got out to dinner som--"
"Archy this is not the time." Eliana sighed.
"Hey, hey! Just checking." He tosses his hands up. He would flash Dimitri another grin. "Hey."
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"He's still bothering you, huh." A rough, raspy female voice noted.
She stood a respectable distance away from Damascus, out by the door. Black fur, an Arabic face, the feline woman had sharp pointed cat-ears on top of her black-purple, short-cut hair. Electric blue cat eyes stared out with a lazy air, her arms crossed. Middled-aged but by no means looking it, she was fit, strong, and outfitted head to toe in modern mercenary's wear. Bulletproof armor, holstered guns, knives and intricate weapons tucked over her form. While being a normal feline furre, something about her seemed almost ... demonic.
She would smirk, the faintest of her sharp, needle-like teeth visible. She looked on to Damascus with a somewhat off-putting, fond air.
"Is there anything you'd like me to do about him, m'lord?" Isra asked.
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Post by Zarja on Apr 26, 2012 10:25:33 GMT -6
Damascus turned only his head to see the visitor, though he really didn't need to. He simply shook his head, "For now, no. As good as he is, we still don't know the extent of his abilities. I can't put my finger on it, but something tells me he's...holding back. He is capable of much more than he lets on."
He turned, walking over to his raven furred counterpart. "Aside, they say he looks just like me...I wouldn't want you to get confused." He moved his hand to run against Isra's cheek, though a second before he makes contact a knife springs from his black sleeve and he runs the point gently against her chin line. "That would be absolutely disastrous..."
A moment later, he removes the knife from her throat and walks past her, "I require a status report. How long until the dragons are ready to mobilize?" The knife goes back to it's spring loaded device with a soft click, letting Damascus know it was secured. "And I also want to know how induction of the latest batch of rebels is going." He proceeds to walk out of his war room, intending for Isra to follow.
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Dimitri face-palmed, showing his steadily growing fatigue for Anarchy's antics. "You make me feel like I am hundreds of years old. Ride safe and be swift. We rendezvous at the mountain once everything is settled here. We need to ensure everyone will be safe without us here."
Dimitri looked back over the mountain, wondering if he'd ever get to see his Admiral and friends again...his spacing off has unfortunately become common place when off the field of battle.
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Post by Radical Ace on Apr 26, 2012 12:58:08 GMT -6
Isra smirked, watching him approach. Ears perked up, eyes widenned and cat-pupils went into slits as the blade was pressed up close. Her breathing stops... Only for another wide, fond grin to settle over her face. "Confused? Please. He's got your look, but you've got the style. And the power, the strength, the world..." She trailed on with a raspy chuckle. Once he moved on, she would follow closely behind, by his side.
"Four dragons are ready m'lord, but I've been told we'll need two at most for this town. They're weak, with the recent drought. The landscape will be difficult to navigate for landbound vehicles, but shouldn't be a problem for dragons or flying vessels. Like I said; it seems to be mostly civilians... But you're not one to take chances, of course, hm-hm-hm..."
She would reach up, and tap against a small metal object clipped to her ear, easily mistaken for an earring. Small screens appear before her right eye. "As for the induction, according to plan... Though, there's been two casualties. Soldiers too weak, hrmf..." She frowns. "...The prisonners are restless. No one's attempted to lash out since the Anarchy incident, good show of mutilation there by the way, but there's been rumors. Some think he's still alive..." She grumbles.
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Archy would give a salute to Dimitri, grinning. "Oh loosen up a little, if we're all going to hell, may as well have a bit of fun, hm? You'll look a hundred years old with that attitude!" He would hop back onto his bike, and bow his head to Eliana. "Good luck, and you know I'm always on call!"
Anarchy would kick off against switches, pull levers, twist dials, and soon his bike set to reorganized itself. The continuous growl lowered into a low hum. The wheels began to turn sideways, until they fitted right into the machine itself. The fins expanded, and soon the vehicle lifted itself off the ground. Anarchy would pull his goggles down and grab hold of the handlebars. With a forward lean, the airbike pulled itself up, and sped off down the mountainside.
Eliana took a moment to watch, before turning to see Dimitri staring off. At first she scowls, but she takes in a careful sigh. She would come up, and set a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey..."
She gave a half-smile. "...Once this is over, I can try to find a way to send you back home, if you'd like. But we need you here right now."
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Post by Zarja on Apr 28, 2012 5:04:45 GMT -6
Dimitri nodded, "Of course, your grace...I appreciate it," He turned to face her. Gods, even her smile looks just like hers... He forced a smile of his own for half a second before moving past her, "I will assist with the mobilization of our camp, I'll keep my...comm thing on. What is it called, a scooter?" He grumbles to himself as he put the scouter on his ear, positioning the blue crystal screen over his eye. "I'll update you when we're ready to move."
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Damascus smirked, "Of course I never take chances. The sucessful never do when they have the resources to support such actions. As for the prisoners, I guess we'll need to make another example...I've been wanting to use that new drill that we got. I'm putting you in charge of quelling the prisoners. I hope whoever you choose doesn't like being able to see." He stoped before a door, not even turning to Isra as he gave her a simple command, "Leave me, I wish to speak to The Vigil." Knowing she would comply, he pressed the button to open the door, stepping just through the threshold until the door shut behind him before he walked further into the room.
No one knows where The Vigil came from - there weren't even any rumors that listed his existance before he entered the Duskstalker court. What's known is only that he's stopped entire armies by himself and serves as Damascus's personal body guard and advisor. The Vigil stood beside a great desk, dressed as just another guard - though his stance and the careless air with which he regarded the Emperor suggested otherwise. His uniform shared the same colors as Damascus's military, though no matter how bright the orange had been dyed they always seemed darker on the panther, "My Liege?"
Damascus moved around the desk and sat down, reguarding The Vigil carefully, "I need information. How can a single warrior ward off my army for over a year? You yourself predicted that I would have ruled this world by now."
The Vigil didn't watch him move to the desk. In fact, only his ears followed the movements of his emperor while his obsidian eyes remained behind dark glasses. "You speak, no doubt, of the tiger who so nearly resembles yourself?" The dark panther's voice is slow, and dusty, as if squeezed through a centuries-old record player.
Damascus nodded, "Of course I do. Everyone else - EVERYONE else - that has tried to stand against me has either been inducted into my army of fed to the dragons."
"What do you know of other worlds?" The change in subject was abrupt, but no less slow, disinterested, or dusty.
Damascus shook his head, "Other worlds? Only that they are next on my list to conquer. That is all that concerns me at this point. Why ask me something so trivial?"
The Vigil merely shakes his head in silence, turning his back to approach the window. "You rule this world, as promised."
Damascus thought for a moment before he glared at the panther, "You're avoiding the subject. What aren't you telling me about the tiger?"
"I have withheld nothing, if you think on it hard enough. Wine?" The Vigil's face remained ever stoic and detached like he always was. If he had a sense of humor, he obviously didn't show it.
Damascus slammed his fist into the desk as he rose from his seat, "Damn your cryptic ways! Why must you infuriate me so?!" He closed his eyes for a moment, steadied his breathing, and returned his glare to The Vigil. He's threatened to send him to the Dragons before and made good on his threats on occassions. Having lost a handful to The Vigil, though, was enough to make those threats less than idle. He stomached The Vigil's commonly annoying tone and calmed himself, "No wine. All I want to know is who he is, what is he doing here, and how can I get him to join us?"
The panther moved slowly to a table, reaching out his hand to ensure he found the right object, "Oh, that much is easy. He's someone you overlooked, he's here to stop you because you are everything he sees as abominable, and you can not. But don't worry- everything will turn out for the best, my liege. Wine?"
The tiger grumbled, Gods I hate you. So much. "No wine. Everyone has a weakness. He will join me or be fed to the dragons like everyone else who opposes me...and by ruling the world I assumed you meant that I would have the entire world. So long as there are rebels - so long as there are countries that do not fly my banner - I do not rule this world."
The Vigil turned his head and grined toothily, the slice of white teeth uncomfortably unnerving against the black of his pelt - the expression brief as it is rare. "Of course,"
Damascus's expression turned to unamused, "I think I like it better when you don't smile. What mean you when you say I already rule this world?"
The Vigil grabbed a bottle from the rack on the table after searching for a moment, "Your existence is what drives the hearts and minds of everyone in the world. Not a native soul exists whose life remains unshaped by your regime. You are the center, the emperor, and even the rebels live as they do in your name. But I suppose you prefer obedience. I never promised that. Wine?"
Damascus sat, considering. "No wine...but I hate it when you're right, sometimes. Fine, so you've lived up to your promise. How long will it take to make this world obedient to the name Damascus? And how much of a problem will this warrior pose to me? How do I defeat him?"
Vigil is quiet a moment, before setting his hand on the Emperor's shoulder. "Greatness in men is measured not in what they conquer, but in the measure of men who rise to oppose him. I would do your legacy a disservice to step in, prematurely." He set two glasses on the table, filling the both with a red substance from the bottle.
Damascus thought quietly to himself, "I think if he had to die, I'd prefer it to be at my hand. I'd like to keep his head on a mantle. Maybe have it bronzed."
The Vigil set the bottle on the desk with a soft thump, "You will clash, then. As you will it. And the greater shall undoubtedly win, I have no doubt of that, my liege."
Damascus stood, "Very good. For now, we move to the north. If I need more council, you shall hear from me. Now, is there anything that you need? More of that wine you've been offering, I take it?"
The Vigil slowly shook his head, "Nonsense, sire. What good would I be, thus addled? Though, as I understand it, someone has displeased you today. May I have them?"
Damascus scowled to himself. No one had any idea what The Vigil did with his 'toys', only that once he had them, there would be no trace left. He simply nodded to the panther, "I see no reason you cannot. I will ensure the servants will be here with your latest toy."
The Vigil didn't even nod, just stare blankly into nothingness like usual, pouring the second glass of wine, "Generous as always."
Damascus grabbed the glass, chugged the wine, and set the glass down on the desk before he walked to the door, turning his head slightly, "Until next time." The door opened, allowing Damascus to step through before shutting again.
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Post by Doctor Ink on Apr 28, 2012 10:39:11 GMT -6
"Eliana..." The voice addressing the nymph and her companion was soft and exasperated, accompanied by a tired grin. "I have information for you. I know you're a bit preoccupied, and justifiably so, but you may find it pertinent to the evacuation..."
The man speaking was tall and golden-eyed, dark haired and of decent humor, considering the circumstances. A slender coyote, he dressed entirely in black. All the time, at that. He was Eliana's primary informant, though the methods by which he found his information remain in the dark - even to her.
"...And Dimitri," The tired-eyed canine would drone. "Tell me again what I ought to be looking for, to herald your promised aid....?" Snark, as usual. He, admittedly, wasn't entirely fond of the tiger.
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Post by Radical Ace on Apr 28, 2012 14:25:38 GMT -6
Eliana smirked to Dimitri. "Scouter. Like a scout. But it's attached to your face, and it's a tiny metal thing." She would nod to him as he walked on. "Excellent. I would prefer to keep to the mountains myself, but it's entirely possible we may need to break out into the desert's edges if we're to gain any ground... The cover would be minimal, though." She would sigh and look aside. "I'll leave the route up to you to decide..."
And a voice snuck in. She didn't seem surprised, though the faintest added attention to her expression betrayed her slight discomfort at the coyote's interjection. She would stand aside and cross her arms. While yes, this figure did prove useful and helpful on occasion, she couldn't help but remain somewhat guarded. "Shouldn't we be concentrating less on dreamy hopes, and more on concrete actions and facts right now? We have towns to evacuate, and we're running out of places to run to! We'll all be driven underground by this rate, and even they're starting to steal that too..."
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Isra would stand by the door, watching Damascus leave. The vigil...
She would frown. Who was he? She would sigh, and just turn away. Whatever, it's not like they would be getting it on in there, and Damascus is usually given decent advice ... But something still felt off. Never trust advisors. Of course, she couldn't help but note to herself with amusement that she occasionally qualified as an advisor too, if unproffessionally. "Keh-heh."
She would walk on through the halls, swift and with purpose. A brief exchange of words, a change of attire, and she would be moving with a group of soldiers by her side, her in the center. Black armor and regal helm, she held the power of a commander, but the delicate traits of a favored figure, reminding of royalty. "Prepare the stage, release the prisonners in the yard. Let's give them a show..."
Within the underground, prisonners would be released from their privacy-less cages, only to be lead and herded down hallways. Most were lead by electrified cuffs, pulled and guided by gravitational forces. The prisonners were wide in variety, but all shared the same traits of weariness, broken wills and battered bodies. The few that did prove still strong in any sense of the word, were either given 'treatment' to be turned into soldiers... Or fed to dragons, of course.
But there was always one or two who managed to make a fuss, regardless. Isra scowled from the stage, watching as the prisonners were lined into neat, haggard rows by force in the grand hall. Once they were set in place, she would spread out her arms, and step forward.
"Prisonners of the Old-Wold!" Her rough, raspy voice would strike through the air, made louder with hovering speakers through-out the room.
"You have been gathered here today, for it seems that a few of you have created false hopes for escape. For freedom. For choice." She would pause, a smirk set on her face. "Well, I'm here today to give you exactly that. Choices."
She would snap her fingers. Prisonners would get pulled aside, leaving a selected few out in the open. Fear washed over their faces at the realization, from those pulled aside or those standing bare. Isra would walk down the stage, guards kept close. She would approach the first figure; a meek bird-furre, the feathers broken and out of place. He shook under Isra's stare.
She would smile. "...I give you a choice. You can volunteer yourself to be today's example of what happens to those who get too hopeful, or, you can refuse, and let us chose another victim... sparing your own pathetic life, and leaving yourself to the judgement of the others." She would motion out to the prisonners. Some looked angry, others horrified. A few, simply didn't care anymore.
The bird quivered, staring. He would shake his head, out of fear, but that was enough.
"NEXT!"
"No-- no wait I didn't--!" The bird began, only to be tossed aside by soldiers. The next person was brought up; a fennec fox, female, eyes wide at Isra. The prisonners were getting restless, anxious.
"So what will it be." Isra roughly, lazily inquired.
"Pick me..." The woman's voice whispered. Roars of outrage escaped the prisonners.
Isra nodded. The woman was pulled up to the stage, and shoved to kneel. "Oh we're not done yet." Isra noted to the crowd. She would motion, pointing to one especially outraged bear-soldier. He seemed to have an attachment to the girl. "Men, take him to the stage."
People scattered, and the bear's initial fury was replaced with fear. But more anger. Oh yes. He would be brought to the stage, and glare down at Isra. Come on, he can take it. He can take anything they threw at him...
Isra would move behind the duo. Guns were levelled, pointed at the bear from all sides, along with pointed at the fennec-girl. The bear was given a device; it looked like a grappling-hook gun, but a twisted spike was within the center of the hooks. With another mark of orders, the bear's arms were raised, and pointed straight to the fennec girl, gun levelled with her face a few feet away. Isra would smile. "You have a choice."
"You can choose to shoot her, and rip out her eyes. She may or may not survive, and it's going to hurt. Perhaps for the rest of her short life! Or, you can choose to hold back, and we will kill her. Then and there. It's over. Bye-bye, foxy..."
The bear blanched, shaking, staring at his friend. Tear rolled down her face as she stared back at him. A counter was ticking away behind the duo. Twenty seconds.
Isra let out a laugh. This is how it's done.
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Anarchy would pull up to the camp, coming to stop by his own temporary housing. He would get off of his bike, and duck into the small, haggard structure set within the rockface. Parts upon parts of rescued and salvaged machinery were scattered, other bits of tools and makeshift items available. A padded matress and a folding chair were the only actual pieces of furniture in the mess.
He would take up parts, and run back to his bike. Quick to set everything in place, he would only give the other citizens a brief wave, and a meaningful nod at the sense of activity. His arrival, and hurried departure, wasn't a good sign. A small deck of playing cards is slipped into his pant pocket.
With the silence of his own work, he would get to his feet and rest his hands on the bike. His shoulders heavy, and his head hangs low. With no one present by his side, he finally lets his weariness sink in. He rubs his mechanical arm with his real hand, trying his hardest to forget the torture. His abandonned allies, the other prisonners. He looked as if he was ready to just collaspe against his bike then and there, but he takes in a deep breath.
"C'mon, can't stop now... Race ain't done..."
He got back on his bike.
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