Goldeagle1221 — Roleplayer Guild

Archon of war: WIP

Name:  

Titles: Archon of War and Battle, Ark of War, Begatter of Armies, Champion of Roses, Minister of Might, Bulwark of the Battlefield, Balwark of the Battlefief, Winner of Wars, Bringer of Battle, The Slumbering Soldier

Type: Archon of War

Rival: 

Appearance: Once a hulking mass of iron, muscle and divine flame, now a sleeping old man of hulking mass of iron, muscle and divine flame. He rests ironically peacefully on a velvet bed of red, his many weapons cluttered about his sheets as he awaits a true challenge to awaken him from his warriors slumber.

Personality and Drive: While boisterous and loud, much like the horn of war, he is also subtle and clever in his own right. He represents the two sides of a war very carefully, being a sharp mind as well as a sharp blade. He can be defined as robust, wise, loud, and intimidating.

History: One of the first two Archons ever to serve under Mother Night, he and his counter part, the Archon of Shadow, helped carve the very Empire you now live in. 

After many conquests, and defeating many warriors of legend in glorious mortal combat, he found himself unchallenged and weary of the ease he was witnessing when cutting through even the most glorious legends. His boredom grew unbearable, and no number of challengers or battles broke this spell. Eventually he fell into a warriors slumber, only to awake when prompted with an appropriate challenge. 

Luckily before he fell asleep he had thousands of children in an early attempt to create his own army with his own personal hammer and anvil. His favorite thirty children grew up to be his heroes and now, his administrators while he slumbers. His eldest heads this bureaucracy. 

Armaments: (These are a list of powerful magic relics that belong to your character. They can be a weapon, piece of armor, jewelry, etc that have some unique power. These are not just mere enchanted items, they have also been given the further power of the virtue that you wield them. Give each one a small bit of lore, how you got it, and most importantly what they do. Think the artifacts from D&D or most any item used by heroes in Warhammer.)

Mount/Other: (This is where you can have a magical or spectacular mount of some kind, any fantasy creature will do save dragons. They are a kind of special case in the lore. You can also have a war altar in this slot instead, it need not be living mount or creature. be sure to add what this mount or other can do.) 

Discipline: (The Art/school of magic invented or created by your Archon. Every member of a faction that follows an Archon has access to these unique powers, called Disciplines, gifted to them by their Archon. Many Archon’s have signature Disciplines that are not widely known outside of their circle and are sometimes carefully guarded, though this varies from Archon to Archon. Such as when an Archon is unconcerned with the plots of others and is known for healing would share that knowledge freely. Take special note that your unique school of magic is an offshoot of the legend spun around you that lead you to become an Archon in the first place.)

Abilities: (What powers does your Archon/Exarch have? This includes magic or anything of the sort. Exarch can be pretty damn powerful, Archons many times more so, so feel free to play around. I will be taking special notice of this category, however, so don't be a brat with this freedom.)

Episode 4 
Fruit Loops

For quite some time since the spaceport landing, Yeva had led Jeremiah on a long hike. Up mountains, through woods, over and sometimes into small streams, and all of it had amounted to what? They were still walking on. While on this long hike Yeva’s endurance for the trek truly showed. Even though she had a small backpack on her back and her crossbow, Yeva’s pace neither slowed nor stopped-- well, except for when Jeremiah asked for a break, seeking privacy beingd a large outrcropping for just long enough to cause a slight worry, luckily he emerged smiling and very energized before any questions formed. Truly Yeva navigated the wilderness of Castillo as if there were paths and roadways laid out that only she could see.

Hours passed, the sun crept into a noonish position, before the ground finally began evening out once more. Ahead of them, a small plume of smoke could be seen, and the woods gave way to large fields with houses lurking at a distance. The small plume of smoke could eventually be tracked to a chimney.

Said chimney went to a log cabin made from absolutely massive tree logs-- their width and berdth stretching taller than any human. A worn and weathered sign lurked outside of the cabin, painted with the words: “Hunting Lodge #4” and a painted bear’s head on a shield stood out in blue with a white background. Yeva stopped once they were within thirty paces of the cabin, then dove behind a nearby tree and bushes-- probably an odd behavior to... Jeremiah.

"Come here," Yeva told him in something of an elevated whisper, beckoning heavily. Jeremiah slipped quickly to Yeva's side, a hand slipping into his pocket and feeling his small bag of pills, one missing from earlier. 

"What's up?" He whispered back, scooting further behind the bushes in case of danger, his other hand feeling the cold handle of his pistol tucked away in his belt.

Yeva fell quiet for a moment before whispering, “I fear we’ve already been sighte--”

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP--
The ground near the tree became splattered with a wide array of different colored paint-- the tree itself fell victim to the barrage. Yeva put her arms and hands up protect her face and neck until the noise halted abruptly. A distant voice that sounded as if it came from someone who had smoked far too many cigarettes, came from the direction of the cabin, and it was laughing. The look on Yeva’s face was one of terror. Numbly, she reached toward Jeremiah, to keep him from moving.

“Well well well,” shouted the voice, “Ye bring yer sorry ass back ‘ere, ‘ave ye? Come out, Yeva. C’mon out n’get ye ol’ Aunt a hug, eh?”

Jeremiah cocked a brow, more confused at the paint-day surprise than anything else, he pointed at the various colors and opened his mouth to question, leaving it open in silence just in case he wasn't suppose to speak as well as move, which probably was a yes. 

Yeva shook her head at Jeremiah then called out, "Ah--" she cleared her throat "-- Dear Auntie Heila. I have a man here that wishes to speak with you. About them bunkers, you know the ones?!"

"A MAN? Straigh' to business, are ye now lass? Incredible, truly. While we've been worried about you having been eaten by a heard of Calicats, ye come back with a BLOODY MAN?!"

More paintballs burst off of the tree before Heila screamed, "SEND 'EM OVER, RIGHT?!"

"Remember what I told you," Yeva warned Jeremiah, "Be straight, be fearless, and don't compliment her."

Upon the porch stood a woman-- grey streaks in her wild hair and a twisted smile on her face. Her left eye was covered by an eyepatch, two jagged and deep scars trailing from her left brow down to her chin. This is Aunt Heila-- the grim reaper herself, or, as some would call her, the bane of Megabears. A strong smelling cigar was held loosely in one hand and the high powered looking paintball gun in the other-- seriously, the damn thing had a scope attached. 

Her single eye was narrowed upon Jeremiah as he approached with a look that said you are not fucking worthy. All this and she stood even at an intimidating height-- probably just a little shorter than Poole, actually. Were it not for the cooking apron tied around her, she looked as if she were ready to conduct a night-operations tactical mission.

Jeremiah soaked in the mess before him, what kiind of quest did he start? He sucked in a tiny breath, as if he had much to say about the true start of this kinda quest. Forming his trademark smile he took another bold step towards the towering woman, "Hello, I'm Jeremiah, here for the aforementioned bunkers."

Taking a pull from her cigar, Heila eyed the man's smile with a harsh expression. "Which bunkers, Jeremiah," she asked exhaling smoke, "Which bunkers specifically?" Oddly, she seemed rather calm, from the previous fire with which she had berated them only moments before. Was it a trap?

"Abandoned ones, particularly eerie, mysterious, and worthy of a visit to Calisto," Jeremiah answered, "the kind that makes you wonder what the hell it was even for."

Heila hummed in a particularly eerie manner, very similar to Yeva, but very off-putting given the raspy quality of it. Squinting down at Jeremiah she replied, "Calico Silo-- so named 'cause it's in the middle of a bloody Calicat hunting ground. Tell me, Jeremiah, do you fear death?"

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed at the question. After countless nights approaching the topic of death, he didn't know exactly how to respond. Did he fear death? and if he did, was it his own? No, it was another type of death that kept his eyes open at the twilight hours, it was a different pale face that haunted him in the cold sweat of his withdrawals, to him, he knew only one answer.

"There are greater things to fear," Jeremiah answered in a flat tone. 

Heila smiled like a shark looking upon it's next prey. "Yeva does not fear it. Honestly I'd be surprised if ye didn' already know this," she told him, then put her paintball gun down. She reached behind herself, then pulled a small GPS device off of her belt. Idly she typed a few things as she asked Jeremiah, "How has my sweet niece been holdin' up, eh?"

Jeremiah went to lean but nearly tripped remembering he wasn't near anything to lean on. His slightly dilated eyes fluxuated and fixed back onto the grizzly aunt, obliging the small talk, "not only is she holding up, but she is also holding up a few appitites with her recipes." 

"Her reciepies-- bah," Helia replied, "Her gran's the one responsible for all her skills-- ungrateful little wench. She should be here doing such a thing." A beat passed then Heila held out the GPS device toward Jeremiah, "There. Go get yerself killed but be sure that Yeva'll survive, even if you don't. She's lucky like that."

"Too bad you're not!"

There wasn't even time for Heila to turn before the door to the hunting lodge opened behind her and Yeva came out and open fired. Paint splattered and burst all over Heila before she knew what was going on-- she lept to the side and took cover behind a nearby rocking chair. Inconprehensiable curses came out of Heila in an epic and colorful stream that probably made a child cry somewhere.

Yeva shouted, "Run Jeremiah!" As she kept the weapon pointed toward Heila, then, actually, began running herself. This very well could have been the first time Jeremiah has ever seen Yeva run.

Jeremiah's fingers tightened around the GPS and a suspcious wry of a smile formed on his lips as he ducked his head and began his retreat. Out of all the firefights he has been in, this was by far one he wouldn't mind remembering. Shoving the GPS deep into his pocket, he followed Yeva loyally, his mind slowly dipped away from the current situation, and his stomach began to flutter at the thought of what the coordinates might hold for him.

While they ran, Yeva dropped the paintball gun somewhere up a tree. Dropped? No. She launched it with all her might, actually. Once they were away from the cabin, down a small hill, into the thick of the woods, and behind a very large cluster of obnoxiously purple-green trees, Yeva decided now as as good as time as any, and her pace slowed to a halt.

“What are the coordinates? Are they sound, by chance? From here on,” she breathed, “I’ll help you navigate the path but, if I tell you we need to go around something and you don’t understand why, just do as I say. Would hate for you to get mauled out here, gov.”

Jeremiah's senses kicked into full gear for a split second at one particular word he heard. He quickly looked up from his hand holding the GPS and the cold fear disappeared as his eyes found Yeva, "of course, no problem." He said plainly.

"Coordinates seem to be pretty okay as far as an unknown location goes," Jeremiah shrugged and tossed the small device towards Yeva.

“That’s Heila for you,” Yeva spoke up before catching the GPS. For a moment she gazed at the screen, analyzing the grid, turning the device a few times, glancing up at the terrain every so often, and narrowing her eyes at mountains looming in the distance. 

This was going to take longer to reach than Yeva expected. While she wanted to tell Jeremiah she also absolutely was not going to tell Jeremiah. By her best estimate, Yeva knew it would take at least four hours to get there. Yeva had no reason to doubt Heila’s coordinates. Without a word Yeva started walking off.

Jeremiah shrugged as Yeva walked off, assuming everything was going as planned. He shoved his hands in his pockets, one fondling the bag of pills, the other flicking a piece of lint as he happily followed his companion. 

Callisto’s wilderness could be described as a very inviting, if not strange, place to walk into-- despite the dangers of Hyper-Intelligent Megabears and groups of Calicats that liked to gang up on people. Each of Jupiter’s moons were terraformed and the soil gave odd effects to the plantl ife that grew. On Callisto, everything looked as if it were desaturated slightly then ran through a slightly pink color filter.

This moon was also known for its rugged terrain. Over 70% of Callisto’s total surface was mountainous. Undoubtedly, on hour three of their adventure, Jeremiah was well acquainted with this fact, as they went up hill far more than downhill, sometimes even having to walk sideways across hills. Whatever the terrain that needed to be crossed, Yeva didn’t seem to mind or make note of it, other than to orient the map every now and then.

There was something in the way that Yeva carried herself that spoke of a quiet confidence at odds with hyper-vigilance. She scanned and looked about every now and then, came to a halt here, examined a tree there, and even stopped to stick her finger into a mega-pile of Megabear shit, all without a single word of note, even when she was asked about it. Though she didn’t exactly tell Jeremiah to not talk, Yeva had become barely responsive, without much more than a grunt or hum every now and then.

Such was the journey until they came to a hilltop and Yeva crouched low and halted. 

The formation of mountains they had marched over was somewhat crescent shaped. In the valley between them loomed a large cement structure claimed by vines and moss with two rusted doors shut tight. Reaching back for her backpack, Yeva detached a set of binoculars, then began staring through them in cautious silence.

After a moment Jeremiah nudged Yeva and she handed the binoculars over. Propping the lenses to his eyes, Jeremiah saw exactly what he had hoped to see, or rather, not see. The old vine covered structure was label-less, with not a sign, letter or mark to indicate its affiliation, but Jeremiah knew. His stomach twisted into a knot and any chance of joy from finding this structure formed rather as a sickening paranoia and worry. Was this what he really wanted? 

Jeremiah steeled his resolved and put the binoculars down, this was exactly what he wanted. A hand snaked into his pocket and gripped his bag of pills tightly, but the touch of the pills only served to throw coals on a burning anger that began to reemerge in his stomach.

Without warning he pulled his gun free from his belt and held it up, a finger switching off the safety, "ready?"

Yeva regarded Jeremiah with a solid expression of disapproval. Placing a finger to her lips to indicate that he needed to maybe shut the hell up, she also firmly took hold of his elbow, then shook her head. Tapping two fingers to her head, she made a sharp movement toward the bunker with her hand then-- wait. Shit. Frustration twisted Yeva's expression when she figured that Jeremiah probably wasn't familiar with the hand gestures and movements of Jupterian Hunter Speak.

Thinking quickly, she began smashing buttons on the GPS, typing out the message: "If you shoot something loud you attract the six to ten calicats around. I have not got a good count of them. Could be more." She showed the message to Jeremiah and waited for some expression of recognition.

Jeremiah pursed his lips, flicking his dafety back on. His eyes betrayed reluctance. Softly taking the GPS he typed out his own message.

"I need to get inside." The message was short, simple, and accurately displayed what the conclusion to the swarm of invading thoughts in Jeremiah's mind boiled down to.

While holding her sigh in, Yeva typed out the words, "Slowly not stupidly." Then stood up slightly. Eyeing the terrain, she figured that there weren't many spaces to hide or duck away from the sigh of the Calicats. The likelihood of them seeing their approach was very high but, still, she had to at least attempt surprising them instead of being on the wrong end of the cat. 

She pointed to the ridgeline-- specifically the treeline to the side of them-- then pointed in a manner that indicated they were to follow the treeline then cut inward toward the cement bunker at the last possible moment. This plan would clearly take a bit longer than the most direct route, that much was obvious. She looked to Jeremiah for a symbol of understanding.

A look of frustration crossed Jeremiah's face as he nodded in compliance. The anxiety of waiting for what laid so close bubbled in his stomach. He motioned for Yeva to lead.

Without hesitation, Yeva took point, then began making her way along the treeline. Here and there she halted, waited, and seemed to be listening or looking deeper into the surrounding underbrush. A tenseness accented her posture every time she halted. Subtle signs that something was lurking within the forest were there-- the movement of a few leaves or the crunch and snap of twigs. This was going to be a slow process, slowed even further by Yeva's caution. Part of her expected Jeremiah to just bolt and run toward the bunker and be promptly shredded in the process. She pushed this paranoia deeper into her mind in favor of focusing on reality.

Eventually they came within a few paces of the bunker, allowing a closer inspection of it. A black camera, covered by a plastic barrier that was fogged beyond repair, loomed over the doorway. An intimidating slab of steel that served as a high security door stood under the camera, rust having cemented it to the wall itself from misuse. A large crack had formed in the cement surrounding the door-- it was large enough for them to probably climb through. 

With a slight nod, Yeva pointed to the crack, then began moving slowly forward. So far, their trek had went easier than she had predicted. Jeremiah was oddly good at not making a lot of noise, despite his heavy engineer boots, it seemed. Any small sound could draw the attention of one of the eight or so Calicats Yeva had managed to recount, so they moved slowly toward the bunker. Now that the treeline was no longer there to shelter them, caution was needed more than ever. Briars sprang up out of the ground the closer the got-- dried leaves and twigs threatened to give their location away.

A breeze picked up, rustling leaves, and Yeva swore the stupid leaves were trying to give them away. She could see the light shining into the darkness of the bunker’s depths from here. Scratches were around the entrance to the crack, raising Yeva’s suspicion that, at some point, the Calicats had tried to claw their way in-- but why? They were no more than thirty paces away now, creeping slowly, attention raised, for all it took was a misplaced foot and the Calicats would be upon them, fang and cla--

“BAAAAHHH!”

Yeva very nearly turned into stone at the sound.

“BAAAAAAHH! BAAAAAAH!” Belted a noise from-- Where?! It was loud, somewhat muffled, but it echoed as if it were right next to them.

Frantically Yeva looked around then she spotted movement in the treeli-- “BAAAAHHHHH!!”

“Damn it all-- run for it,” Yeva spoke up loudly as the first Calicat lept over the bunker. 

As large as an earth-tiger, with the build of an earth-cheetah, and the spotted, striped, and patched coat of a Calico house cat, Calicats fit their name properly but, Yeva always thought it a bit too cute for an intelligent but murderous brute. There wasn’t much time for such thoughts howe-- “BAAAAAAAAAH!!”

A tug from Jeremiah as he passed Yeva brought her thoughts back to her companion, "Come on!" Jeremiah urged as he passed, Yeva could see his finger playing with the safety on his gun, and his patience for whatever was inside the bunker was wearing thinner.

Truth be told, Jeremiah's patience was thinning for a few reasons. As the crisp air whizzed by his face, he couldn't help but feel light headed. He couldn't quite remember how long it had been since... well. His muscles were beginning to ache and his headache wasn't helping either. Every step sent a shock of pain out of his head and down his spine-

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

And that certainly wasn't helping.

A crazy aunt, paintballs, massive space cats, and a mysterious baying by an abandoned super secret bunker, must read to believe.

Goldeagle1221 Member

I am Spartacus!

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