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Hey, I’m interested in creating an application. I was thinking of creating a pious, warrior culture type realm, situated in the center of the map. With the focus being on a group of highborn knight-like priests whose purpose is upholding honor, tradition, and faith. So my question is how flexible and creative can I be with the religious aspects of their culture? As Born should they follow a certain, specific faith, or can I make up my own, with only a few ties to the greatfather? They would be associated with Honor, Piouty, and Badgers.

I was thinking a Bronze Ranger, just to deviate from the typical color scheme. I like this look as well.


The Ranger’s sealed panels withdrew with a hydraulic hiss as Ursa gave the order for Jean to take over. Grunting Jean picked himself off the floor, taking ahold of the multicolored joysticks at the flight board. Ursa sounded in a bad way, even over the comms Jean could tell something had gone terribly wrong. They would need to board, and bring the wounded captain over to the healer bot. ean glanced over at said healer in trepidation. The pink robot was standing over Takashi, making a long incision down the back of the lizard-man’s hip, his scalpel coming away, stained red with blood.
“Hey!” Jean shouted, rushing over and snatching the murderous robot away from Takashi’s limp form. “What in the hell are you doing?”


“NEEEEEEED, to RE-plACE, Paintanceeeas 66666oooo KID-ney!” The bot squealed, sparks spouting from the plasma hole burned into its chest.

“No, no you don’t. His kidney is fine, he is fine, just unconscious. I need you to reboot Taylor. Do you understand?” Jean shook the bot, the discouraging sound of parts shifting and clattering inside the metal encasing emanating from him. “You need to reboot so you can patch Ursa up. Taylor, command reboot.”

For a moment the bot remained unresponsive, then the lights behind its viewing ports dimmed and a distinct ‘windows powering down’ tone sounded. Sighing with relief Jean patted the off-line robot’s head affectionately before returning to his position at the helm. Pressing a few buttons Jean opened the main airlock, giving the returning crew members space to board the Ranger. The shuttle shuddered as the pod thudded down in the cramped space, scraping against the durasteel walls and bumping the roof, but it sufficed. Slamming his fist down on the ‘shut-door’ button, conveniently marked, the doors slipped closed, concealing the pod in darkness. Jean watched the entire thing on the CCTV display, squinting as something shifted in the darkness. “Airlock is secure y’all,” he said over the comms. “Get Ursa up to the bridge immediately…”

The lights sprang back on and standing in front of the unsuspecting escape pod was none other than Naefario, captain of the Gorefill, his cybernetic arm outstretched, some unnamed, malicious killing device pointing at the door. He looked disheveled, and angry, the scalpels having been removed, and trails of green blood dribbling down his limbs and face, spider webbing liquid trails across his muscular form. Thinking fast Jean practically punched the loudspeaker switch, yelling so that the entire ship could hear.
“DON’T OPEN THE DAMN POD DOOR!”

He was too late. The door slid open, and Naefario fired.

@Omega Man On the character sheet, what are you asking for with “recommended enemy”?

"Yes indeed friend Poyzz," the serpent hissed happily as he flipped open the rule book and began memorizing its contents. "Although there may be many secrets, fire, and liars; the truth shall always exist somewhere. Only its evidence might be smote from the world, and yet despite anyone's greatest efforts the truth lives on always. A fine game, shall I tell another, or would ye try and bamboozle the master?"

So continued their time together, conversing, playing their game, and occasionally supping on the food items Eddie had brought them. It was some time before the children returned to collect their kwami. Bella arrived first, staying on Hoppi's request until the others arrived. Ossar stared towards the young girl, noting the tremor in her voice, and the wary stance she held. Ossar had never considered himself an expert on human body language, but he understood enough to recognize the signs. Drifting through the stale stairwell air Ossar held Bella's eyes, a touch of concern in his reptilian voice. "Daughter, you are troubled." It was more of a statement then a question. "Ye need not be afraid, for we are not angered. A mistake is only that, a mistake, that from which we must learn." He regarded her for a moment more before Tonya came scurrying down the hall, stepping around Bella. In a flash he had slithered up her sleeve, emerging at the base of her neck beneath her hair where he liked to hide. Tonya shuddered, still having not grown use to the sensation of the tiny serpent slithering across her skin. "Farewell my friends." Ossar called, raising his voice so the other kwami could hear. "I look forward to the day we might meet again. The morrow perhaps?"

"Uh, yeah bye. See you guys later." Tonya coughed, lingering by Bella for a moment, wanting to ask about yesterday. She decided against it, instead jogging over to the main doors and waiting on the steps for Eddie to collect Beak.

A work in progress certainly, but it contains my name and face claims.


I’m gonna stake my claim to the iron throne, with man and the seven as my witness.


Location: Mrs. Alivine's Office





Mrs. Alivine's office was a quaint little room, a cliché of sorts cramped and messy as it was. Stacks of paper covered an already cluttered desk with pencils, staplers, files, and food wrappers scattered here and there with seemingly little abandon to an overall structure. There seemed to be some method to the chaos, though whatever it was remained locked entirely inside the mysterious mind of the scaly English professor bent in studious pose over her desk. She tapped rhythmically at the two sheets of note paper stapled together in front of her, reading over the contents contained with rapid eye movements of the literarily inclined. She was a strange old women, most of her body covered in flesh colored scales that rippled like a snakes skin when she moved. She had a reputation for spitting fire when she was angry, figuratively and literally, and bore a more intimidating presence then one would assume from a five foot tall older lady. She had earned the label Lady Dragon despite only every teaching at Xavier’s School, and upheld her title and fame even into her later years. She shook her head from time to time muttering, “Simply frightful,” and “Such unacceptable formatting.”

Sitting before her like a man condemned in court was Basil Floros, a Mediterranean boy of sixteen, who for the moment was being ignored and was thankful for it. His flimsy four legged stool, which could not appropriately receive the honorary title of chair creaked beneath his bulk as he shifted about with a nervous energy. He’d grown bored with watching his teacher, however strange her appearance, read and instead lolled his head from one side to another, searching for something interesting to look at. Despite a small picture, whom Basil assumed was the teacher’s family, and a paperclip Eiffel Tower model up on a shelf there wasn’t much of interest, at least not or a teenage boy who’d been cooped up indoors for the past few hours. At least her scratchy voiced scolding had ceased giving him some peace of mind.

“A D, and feel fortunate for it Mr. Floros.”

Basil jumped, straightening up in his chair and looking around. He hadn’t been paying attention and it appeared the judge, jury, and executioner had made her decision at last. “Ahm sorry ma’am, uh, what’d you say?”

“What did you say. Say it properly. I will not tolerate this half-baked behavior in your writing nor your speech young man.” Mrs. Alivine scolded, rapping her desktop with a ruler to annunciate her point. “You continue to struggle in my class for no other reason than your lack of effort, such is your only shortcoming as far as I can tell, from my limited association with you. Whether this is the case or not, you will find you would no longer struggle should you apply yourself diligently. You are not unintelligent, I am sure. However I am led to believe foolish disgraces such as the one you presented me today,” here she slapped the paper on her desk. “Are derived from laziness above all else. I demand excellence from all my students, and no excuse shall justify…. This. Did you truly think I would not expect higher standards? Is that the impression I deliver?”

“But I…” Basil was saved from trying to find an answer to the rhetorical question presented when a sharp knocked sounded on the office door. Scott Summers, one of the school executives and leaders of the institution. Basil sat up a little straighter in his chair his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the ruby-tinged glasses. It was one thing to be scolded by Mrs. Alivine, and another entirely to get a dressing down from one of the most influential people at Xavier’s. Had his paper been that terrible?

“I’m not interrupting am I?” Scott asked before continuing on as if it didn’t matter whether he was interrupting or not. “I have important business with Basil today, I would surely hope you wouldn’t mind too much if I take him off your hands.”

“Can it wait?”

“No, I – we have need of his services now. You will have to continue with Basil another time.”


A grin spread across Basil’s face and he collected his school bag, standing up and reaching for his paper. Mrs. Alivine, despite looking as if she would very much like to made no protest to this and showed him to the door. “This is highly inconvenient Scott, I hope your ‘business’ doesn’t affect his grades to an even lower point average. He needs tutoring not training. You know very well I disapprove of this plan of yours.”

Basil’s head whirled with questions. Training? Business? Plan? What exactly was going on? He determined to ask the moment they stepped from the office, as long as Scott kept up this air of mystery and didn’t explain himself.

“I am aware Mrs. A.” Scott said, looking a bit unsettled with Alivine’s stare. Apparently even he didn’t enjoy staring down the Lady Dragon’s brimstone-like eyes. “I think the discipline and teamwork will do him good in those regards. And if not I shall ensure his grades improve personally. Come on Basil.” He led the way out of the office, down the halls and stairs and across the wooden floors of the school at an easy pace, clearly not in any hurry. Much to Basil’s disappointment Scott started up a conversation, contrary to what Basil wished to discuss before the Greek could so much as utter the questions that sat on the tip of his tongue. “Why exactly were you in her office just now? I expected to find you in the history classroom. Is it something I should know about?”

Basil sucked in air through his teeth, wincing a little at the embarrassment accompanying the question posed. “Ah, no, not exactly sir. I was ah… Not in trouble, as you think. No. Ah, she not like my paper, she says I did not do paragraph like she likes yeah. She said do multiple, ah, paragraph. And I only did two, and she says I only do two because there are two papers, which separates them. And I told her, ah, I said no, I did five paragraph like she asked, but apparently you need bigger spaces between paragraph, which I thought I did properly but I ah, did them wrong. I guess. Yes. And she thinks my writing is bad. I dunno, I worked very hard to try and make perfect paper, but ah, she did not like it. I thought it was good, the best. But no, she did not like it at all.”

Scott frowned, as if he was trying to mull over the scattered ramblings and understand them to their fullest. “Comprehension and following instructions to the letter is vital.” He stated, as if it was all as simple as that. “What Mrs. Alivine is trying to teach you is the discipline, to not only listen and understand, but follow those instructions to a T. She has been here a long time and knows the trouble you will face, and that exactness is key to thriving. You’ll learn this exorbitantly in the coming months I would assume.”

“Ah, yes, wh-what exactly wou-“

“I also think,” Scott continued cutting Basil off. “That perhaps the language barrier might be a problem here. Surely Mrs. Alivine knows that, though she is the type to not except any sort of excuse, even one as blatant as that. I will talk with her later.”

The two stepped out into the courtyard, where a cool breeze welcomed them into the glorious outdoors. Basil breathed in deep lungful’s of fresh air, glad for the chance to get away from the stuffy old codgers and their books. Scott left him there with no other explanation but to wait with the few others already present before disappearing back into the mansion.

Basil’s stroke of luck was only improving it seemed when he recognized the four girls small talking in the center of the enclosed yard. He waved, smiling at Heidi, Madison, and Roxy, while giving Nikita a sly wink. “Ah, I have my eye on you Nikita.” He warned the latter of the four, joining them and sticking his hands in his pockets. “This isn’t some, uh, ah elaborate trick no? Cause I’ll catch it, you’ll see.” He joined their little group with ease, knowing all of them at least to an extent. Heidi and Madison less so with the former being nothing more than a name and face without much knowledge of the person behind it. Indeed he barely knew Heidi beyond the fact that she was smart, and silent like a shy owl. Making a point of drawing everyone's attention he looked from one to the other, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "So, ah, do any of you know, uh, what we are doing and why we were taken out of class? Not that I am complaining, but, ah, I do not know why."

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