Hokum

Defiance

@Seraphin

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When No Man Pursues

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The fading moonlight and flames of streetlamps were not enough to divulge the individuals’ gender, but it was enough to reveal their leery behavior as they made haste from the library and bungled down the road through town. In their gauche rush, the supposed thief soon collided with another individual standing outside the tavern, the same tavern Ren had carried her from less than an hour ago.

In a way it was slightly amusing to think that this individual, in their haste to escape their misdeed, managed to run into one of the few people still awake at this hour. Devlin grinned ever so slightly while watching the individual clamber to their feet, gather their fallen possessions, and then fade into the night on their continued retreat toward the gates of town.

-Devlin had taken Ren up on the offer to climb the bell tower, for she couldn’t refuse such vital exuberance. After all he had obviously been through, his enthusiasm to better this God forsaken world remained uninhibited by the afflictions of his past. He may not have been a warrior type, but he certainly had the gumption of one – and who was she, after all, to deny assistance… nay, to shun companionship from one who was ultimately after the same thing she was? Such hypocrisy would inevitably come at a price. Regardless of these things, the words Mada once bestowed upon her were those that ultimately had her agree to Ren’s help…

‘There is no random chance, no coincidence to life… all things are united. The universe is a long since written and closed book….’-

“You were right,” She said, turning her dowry look of solemnity to the musician standing beside her, “it’s an enlightening view from up here.” She looked away again, a little puzzled now as her eyes patrolled the moonlit hills beyond the town walls. “Why would somebody steal from a library… and then run when no one pursues?”

The cold blade of contempt was still twisting at her heart, informing Devlin that her nemesis was still close at hand – and could that have been the reason for the thief’s hasty departure from town? Perhaps they weren’t a thief at all. Perhaps they instead had knowledge that threatened their life. The night, it would seem, was open to speculation. But one question was perfectly clear: What stolen books - or what knowledge at all - could make a person decide that fleeing into the ominous wilderness at night, was a better option than remaining within the security of town walls?

“Yes, the wicked flee when no man pursues….” She uttered the words, placing her hand on the arm of her friend and looking him dead in the eye. “But so too do the innocent when terrified.” A hairline current of violet electricity broke from her finger and crawled its way down Ren’s forearm, and no doubt tickled the skin of his hand as it fizzled out of existence.

“You mentioned something about the Town Hall. Perhaps that is a good place to start.” She lifted her eyes to the sparkling glory of the heavens. “And you might be right about another thing…. If you could do with some rest, maybe I could do with some too.”

World of Nations - A freestyle Nation RP

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The Tower of Meth

The Sovereigns Conference Room

---

Chief General of Commands, Bundaris Stras, dressed in his previously mentioned grey suit, tie, and immaculately combed hair, arrives alone in a room with Her Eminence Goaldinhoe in her personal Conference room. The room wasn’t anything spectacular, but served its purpose well enough with a circular table in the center of the room, a large display monitor covering one wall, and a kitchenette occupying one corner, which was where the Chief Bundaris headed first to fetch himself some food and drink.

“Would you like a coffee, tea, perhaps mind trashing beverage to chase away your troubles?” He asked, while taking a can of soda and a Chocolate Éclair from the fridge.

“No, thank you, Bundy.” The Sovereign, Faith, replied with a slightly amused smile, seated on the table with feet up on a chair, and dressed in the same black attire she’d been donned with since her favorite little commoner, Camilla, ripped off the head of her best medic. The Sovereign and Chief no longer stood on ceremony when alone together. They’d known each other personally for a good number of years, and were basically on casual nickname terms with each other.

Bundaris pulled up on the table beside her - feet up on a chair as well - cracked open the beverage and took a long chug before belching and nodding to the éclair on the table between them. “Help yourself,” He said, “Prolly not best I finish that tasty bastard, since I’m trying to watch my weight of late.”

Faith laughed light-heartedly, since the Chief was probably the fittest man she knew. His 6 feet 7 inch, hefty build consisted mostly of muscle. His chest was truly a barrel of power, matching his deep baritone voice to a T. Knowing he was only joking about the need to watch his weight, she went on to bring up the matter at hand.

“So how many dead?” She asked, ending the question with a little sigh as she prepared herself for the worst.

“It’s not so bad, Faithy.” He replied, leaning in to give her a nudge with his elbow, “Only about two hundred and fifty thousand presumed dead at this stage.”

She furrowed her brow, bemused. “I didn’t think the Yathon population even consisted of that many individuals?”

“Then I suppose you can consider them all dead.” He told her, and took the first bite from the Éclair before setting it back down on the plate. Waiting till after he swallowed, he wiped a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, adding; “Really quite the mess as well. The virus really made them lose control of their bowels. Must have been quite an uncomfortable way to go. The whole damn place reeks of feces and death.”

“I really don’t need to hear those sorts of details,” She said, and took her own bite of the éclair.

He chuckled; “In any case, I’ve dispatched a fleet of vessels and air crew to quarantine the Island and surrounding effected land masses. Once the areas been purified, I’m supposing we’ll have a new area to build on.”

“Aright then.” She placed what was left of the pastry on the plate. “Perhaps we could allocate those islands for military and scientific experiments of our own in the future.”

“Perhaps we could, yes.”

“That’s not going to limit our resources in regards to our Badlands, I hope.” She said, sounding a little concerned. “Sending those ships and aircraft over there?”

“Not at all!” He assured her, “We still have more than enough vessels and soldiers to work with. Construction of more military vessels are currently underway as well.”

Faith puckered her lips to one side thoughtfully for a moment, then asked; “Any word on what caused the virus?”

“Uh, yeah, sort of.” He told her. “Turns out the Yathon were dabbling in a few adverse cloning techniques. They must have screwed up at some point, creating said virus in the process. Their own science killed them.”

“Clones?” She screwed up her face inquisitively.

“Yeah, heh!” He laughed at the memory of it. “Those clones they made; weirdest bunch of freaks I’ve ever seen. No real facial features at all. Every dead drone we found was wearing a white mask to cover up their lack of features. I guess they felt a little self-conscious.”

“Be sure to take records of their cloning techniques. Maybe we can improve on them.” She said, and stole a sip from his can of soft drink.

“Already done.” He confirmed.

(The following map displays the former nation of Yathon, and the surrounding islands seized by the Zandor Empire, all quarantined to prevent spread of the deadly virus to the rest of the planet. This land is now owned by the Zandor Empire.)

---

“Mmm, cherry soda,” Faith said, handing the can back to him. “And how about the Badlands project? Everything running as planned?”

“Well, just a few little hiccups – but ah! That reminds me.” Bundaris replied, reaching back to grab a remote from the table behind him. “Check this out, Faithy.” Pointing the remote control at the view screen on the wall in front of them, the Chief pressed a button. The screen came alive with a quick flicker before displaying a detailed image of the Badlands in its entirety. Only one of the many dimensional video images taken by Detec 1.

“What is all that?” She said, leaning her head curiously to analyse the details.

“That there, my little Faithy,” He said in no modest way, and placing one big arm around her shoulders, “Is the underbelly of the Kradam Domain!”

Faith stared in stricken awe at the image before her; a vast and intricate subterranean network of cities and passages spanning the entirety of the Vos Nation (The Badlands).

The Chief sat smiling broad, pleased with the achievement of his military in finally developing a means to look into the world of their neighbouring nation.

“But I don’t understand – I mean I know Transespial Imagery was developed to see what our other imagery technology’s aren’t able to see….” She said, shaking her head at the view in front of her; “But how did the Kradam actually manage to hide this from us? What we have here is… not even believable. How in God’s name did they manage to deceive us for so long? Some sort of illusionary technology?”

“Actually, that’s our best guess at the moment!” The Chief said. He raised the control again at the view screen and pressed another button. The image changed to a surface shot of the Badlands, revealing four structures near the center of the land. He zoomed in on the four structures as he continued to say; “Those four objects, as you said, we also believe to be responsible for the illusion. They must be some variety of mass illusion generators designed to display their land and everything they built beneath it as nothing more than wasteland and rock. Quite advanced technology, as you can very well imagine, Faithy.”

Faith closed her mouth, shaking her head to regain composure. “So what are we dealing with, Bundy? What’s the plan?”

“We’re going in.” He told her straight. “Using these images as maps, we are at the moment devising a plan of infiltration. We’re going to go in, do some up-close and personal research, find out where our missing people are, and bring them all home safely, that is, of course, if there’s any of our people still alive. If there’s no one left to save, however….” He finished with a heavy sigh, “Then I suppose our next plan will of a different nature.”

“Do it.” She said, turning her wide eyes at him. “Do anything you need to do. Any time you need to. It’s your call.”

“That’s all I needed to hear!” He said, leaning in to give her a kiss to the nose. “I’m planning on sending our first wave of troops in at dawn.”

“Be careful.” She said.

“You know me!” He chuckled, placing the controller to the side. “Careful as care can be. Always!”

“I mean it!” She said, half smiling with admiration of her young Chief. “Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to lose more people if It can be helped.”

“You have my word, Faithy.”

“Thank you. Now go and bring my children home!” She placed her hand on his leg and gave it a squeeze.

“There is just one other thing before I go!” He said, with his most charming of smiles. “You up for a little play time with your favorite stud?”

She smiled, rubbing his thigh with her hand. “I could actually really do with a good hammering right about now.”

“Then consider me your hammer!” He said, jumping to his feet.

“Over the table then, like last time?”

“Works for me!”

((I have nation plot reasons for including the latter activity. Wasn't just there for diviant reasons.))

---

Hiatus

One and a half years ago, Her Eminence Goaldinhoe’s sanctioning of the movement to find her missing people by any means possible, gave birth to a great number of revolutionary developments. The following is an example of one such technology.

Third Instalment of Visual and Sensory

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Transespial Imagery

Transespial Image Technology, Was devised by the leading Zandor Military surveillance scientist, in a desperate attempt to do what standard radio waves, microwaves, infrared, light, ultraviolet, X-ray, and gamma rays weren’t able to do in finding what lies beneath the Badlands. Transespial rays works on the principle of passing mass quantities of highly accelerated monatomic anions through subatomic levels of matter by way of artificially made micro singularities, ultimately bypassing types of elusion/negative based matter and concentrating solely on positive matter responses in order to formulate an image construct of the targeted area.

Side note: I’m obviously not a scientist.

World of Nations - A freestyle Nation RP

@Aceofreality

All good, thanks. I'll prepare a post concerning such over the next couple of days.

Also, a note to all: I may also be claiming a couple of the nearest surrounding islands. All will be specified in that post.

Defiance

@Seraphin

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Old Habits

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Devlin let go of viewing the suffering behind Ren’s eyes in order to pay closer attention to his furthering behavior. She was watching attentively, in the way a young child may observe their parent go about household chores, and she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of evil had inflicted the wounds that caused many of his scars, such as the odd placement of those about his mouth. His markings of terrors past were curious to say the least. After surmising various possible reasons, the only real answers she was willing to give herself were those of sinister nature, and the more she watched him, the more she studied his every move, the more she understood the tortures he must have endured in his life. Her heart began to throb for him.

It was curios though… the sensation she felt when Ren slipped the monks garment over his head; as the fabric fell down about his body she found herself feeling a sense of loss. Not that she wanted to continue viewing the scars that laden his body – no, that wasn’t it, it was something more…. For a moment - and be it only for a fleeting moment - her breath became elated, as though the air in the room had thinned, while the skin about her nipples tightened. Her contemplations on the possible carnal influences responsible for this reaction, were quickly abandoned when Ren handed her some monks clothing to suit up in as well –

She had already supposed the reason why Ren was dressing up like a monk, and therefor only perused the note before letting it fall from her grip – she was instantly amused by the prospect, knowing full well that the positive minded young man had overlooked one small detail: This monks outfit was not going to hide the weapons on her back, weapons she was not any time soon about to relinquish, and weapons she doubted would be donned by any monk, at least not monks of this particular calibre.

Was there even a time she had laughed in her life? Probably, as a child. The sensation was frightening. It made her shutter. She clenched her fists to fight off the almost uncontrollable impulse, and then it was gone again. Thankfully. She felt relieved as she set the clothing aside and presenting him a look of playful derision for his seemingly naïve antics.

When Ren went to the altar, supposedly to ask this deity of his for help, Devlin leaned her head to one side with question. Her faith in any god had long since perished, and for a man who had apparently been through as much as he, she wondered why he’d even bother. There will be no help from above. Oddly enough, her negative thoughts on the matter appeared to have an effect on him. It was almost as if he suddenly had a change of heart, or maybe just second thoughts for now, but she vaguely smiled along with his laughter, regardless of his reasoning for the change of mind.

The mild smile ran away when Ren then went on to display his gratitude for her earlier actions, specifically the point where he expressed the disheartening thought that he hadn’t before found himself worthy of love. She grit her teeth at the thought of his prior acceptance for the matter. Her expression fell flat once more, and remained as such until he handed her the parchment beholding the question she wished he hadn’t asked….

She held the parchment in her lap and stared at the words silently for quite some time while regretting each possible response. Then, as she lifted her eyes to his, she recalled the words Mada had told her in the recent dream she had with the dragon:

The puppet master cannot be slain by cutting the strings of the puppet.

Never in the two years of knowing Mada had he said anything that didn’t have some variety of significant meaning and, though Mada had never visited her dreams before, those words were something he had told her on numerous prior occasions. The meaning behind the statement was obvious, and directly related to Mada’s unfailing belief that a single entity, at the least a tight group of entities, was responsible for the rise of monsters attacks over the last couple of years…. Symbolic of a puppet master pulling the strings of his puppets.

“That’s why I’m here….” She uttered the words barely audible to even herself, while raising the faint glow of her eyes to Ren’s. Seeing his face again in that instant – the scars that lines his mouth – she was instantly struck with a renewed sense of empathy for the man. It was his eyes, his kindness, the purity of his heart. No… She couldn’t deny him the truth. Despite everything she knew about this world, she trusted him. But more than that, she liked him.

Raising one hand she reached slowly into the opening of his habit and brushed away a fall of hair from his eye, before gently running her finger affectionately down the contours of his cheek.

“Don’t worry about my clothes.” She said, faking a smile and returning her hand to her lap. “I doubt those robes will conceal my weapons, and besides,” She added, turning her gaze momentarily as if to regard a distant view, “I’m not here to hide, Ren.” She picked up the monks clothing and placed them on his leg. “The stench of my affliction is strong in this town…. My nemesis is near. But you should stay. You’ll be safe in this room, and I don’t want you to be hurt anymore….” Leaning in, she placed a kissed upon the scars above his lip, then whispered close; “Thank you for showing me beauty.”

With that, Devlin rose to her feet and started walking toward the door.

Defiance

@Seraphin

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The Daughter of Despiun

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Once again she was perched upon the ruins of her home town looking down into her father’s dead gaze before, as always, the landscape change once again.

...She was walking on water, bobbing upon the gentle waves of an ocean beneath a cloudless night sky. Far in the distance ahead was land, and out of that land grew a great fortress made of transparent gold. That was her destination. Giving no mind to her impossible feat, she moved weightlessly across the water, slouching toward the refuge of that great fortress ahead. As she drew nigh to the land, Devlin realized the fortress was not made of gold, nor was it a fortress at all – but a person, tall and strong, arms outstretched to receive her.

As her feet touched down on the land she recognized this person. It was her father. Her heart leapt with wondrous joy as she fell into his ready arms. The warmth of his love folded around her as he then began to speak in a voice that was not his own, rather the voice of Mada, filling her head as if they were thoughts all her own…

…Os elk tarnen beoren…

She knew those words!

“Light after darkness!” She exclaimed, and pushed away from the man who was meant have been her father. Standing back with mouth agape her eyes beheld Mada; his emerald orbs shining with the radiance of the sun, and yet weren't blinding at all. As her mouth closed in subdued adoration, Mada lifted the bone of a beast to his mouth and blew into its end like it were a musical instrument. The gentle melodies of a flute swam in visible purple currents through the air like Aurora’s in the night, and as Devlin’s heart delighted in the spectacle taking place, she could only but watch in additional awe as the form of Mada transformed to a young human male; the scars of his neck and torso causing Devlin's joy to suddenly sink into the pit that opened within her chest.

“Ren….” She uttered the name as blood began to tear from her eye.

Ren then matched her own tears; torrents of blood flooding from his eyes as he removed the flute from his mouth. But the melody continued to play, growing louder and louder until it was a deafening blur of white noise while the blissful, purple currents of sound in the air descended and shrouded her person.... Then everything went black.

Darkness…. Silence…. No feeling at all…. She was floating in a void, observing the endless nothingness for what was an immeasurable amount of time before the music started up again, emitting from a small spark of light that appeared before her….

---

The darkness slivered open with the parting of her eyelids, the glow of candlelight and the sound of Ren’s flute filling her senses as she rolled her head to one side and lay eyes upon him.

While he continued for the moment to play his provocative tune, her arm bent languidly at the elbow, her hand moved towards him, her fingers touched down upon the skin of his waist.

“Much more pleasant than the chant of Despiun….” She said. Her soft, rasped voice spilled in a warm stream from her lips, caressing the face of the young man beside her.

-Mostly every soul in all the land of Akripola knew of the Massacre at Despiun, and were aware of the Chant of Despiun, a song created to celebrate such an event. The massacre at Despiun was one of the first mass slaughter in what inevitable became a long list of monster attacks across the land. The story of Despiun carried with it a legend, however, as most great stories do. It was the tale of a sole survivor at Despiun; a young girl as it were, who was thereafter believed to roam the Western forests of Akripola, seeking to destroy any monster that dare to threaten the lives of innocent travelers. The legend referred to this girl as ‘The Daughter of Despiun’, said to be born of a witch and begotten of Death.

Whether Ren knew of the legend of the Daughter of Despiun, he would have no doubt been aware, at least, of the Massacre at Despiun. Of course, the legend behind the girl said to haunt the forests wasn’t altogether true, many believed that particular part of the story to be nothing more than fables concocted by hearsay and rumors of hopeful hearts. The truth was, Devlin had spent much of the last two years being trained by Mada in a cave on the Western mountain range, and therefore couldn’t have been responsible for many of the events people had claimed to have witness since the massacre. Only more recently had she started her journey across the land in an attempt to not only avenge the death of her family, but any innocent person who stood in the path of evil -

Before removing her fingers from Ren's skin, a slight tingling - similar to that of playful feathers - moved up Devlin’s arm, causing an uplifting surge of vitality to fill her body. With a small gasp she lifted into a seated position, eyes darting about to familiarize herself with the new surroundings. She wasn’t in the tavern anymore. Judging by the face of the deity displayed upon the small alter on one side of the room, this humble abode was undoubtedly part of a church.

Her heart was relaxed. She felt calm… easy, as if under the effects of a calming spell; that being no different than how she usually felt after waking from one of her episodes. She had done it again. As usual she held little to no memory of her actions. In this case, her memories were a fragmented blur from the point of thrusting her blade into Queno's flesh.

Leaning with back against wall, the supple contours of her ever dispassionate features returned to face Ren. It was only then she saw it staring back at her for the first time: The tortured darkness weighing heavily upon the soul that screamed so very loudly from the depth of his own eyes.

“My name is Devlin...” She whispered, introduced herself to the body of suffering inside him, “…I am the daughter of Despiun… and the begotten of Death.”

Defiance

@Seraphin

tbh I was worried you didn't like my last post XD So it's all good.

- and no, I like all your posts, and that includes this one. You do a great job, honestly, no problems with it at all. Just one question though; Ren is naked atm? I didn't see any mention of returning clothes or if Ren was even fully naked to begin with. I know you mentioned the wind against his naked skin, but I'm not certain if that meant his whole body or not (I was just going to assume he is fully naked). Just asking because the knowledge will help in the construction of my next post.

I'll get working on a reply as soon as I can :)

Defiance

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Monsters Be Dead

---

Monsters come in all shapes and sized, they don’t always appear in the form of dragons, the undead, or the like. Sometimes they take a more common form of the man living next door, the farmer down the road, a barman, or even the form of a trusted guard.

Devlin sat complacently while the peculiar young man went on to express his good intentions. She listened to his music – a tune no more than vaguely familiar to her – and she courteously read each note he wrote out, but she never once spoke a word, simply watching with an apathetic stare until a town guard entered the tavern and took him away upstairs.

Ren….

She wasn’t sure at just what point of Ren’s charades she found herself believing he was being sincere. Perhaps it early in the piece, when his initial reaction to her accusation had caused a reaction that only the honest could muster. But as the minutes went by, Devlin found herself enduring a feeling she’d never felt for another human since the slaughter of her family. It was adoration, possibly… or was it something more, she wasn’t quite sure. One thing was however very certain; by the time Ren had stood to depart Devlin’s company, she didn’t want him to leave. She had enjoyed his grace. He had relieved her torment, and caused her to forsake the depths of animosity she had held close to heart for so long. Needless to say, that when the scarf inevitable fell from his neck in the shoving of the guard, the scars revealed beneath struck her with a familiar charge.

There it was again, that old foreboding darkness, tearing down the tower of her newly built fortress.

A bolt of violet energy dashed across her fingertips as her heart came near to exploding in her chest, like a hot blade being thrust between her ribs while a thousand needles of sudden rage prodded at her skin. For a while she was stricken by her own animosity. The sound of her teeth grinding may have well been heard across the room as she watched Ren disappear up the stairs in the company of that beast, and it was then, right at that moment, she realized just who and what Ren was.

Taking the coins from the table, she left her bottle and meal behind.

---

Devlin stood at the bar looking down at the fat little man behind the counter. The severity of her face and the additional shine to her purple eyes had him already gaping back at her in fear. She turned her eyes to the door behind him - which no doubt led to the kitchen beyond – and she knew he understood her intentions by the slow, defiant shake of his head.

“Then I will do it right here in front of everyone.” She said. The naturally soft rasp of her voice was broken, grated and distorted by power that surged through her system. “The choice is yours.”

The Barkeep’s chubby cheeks wobbled with trepidation as his frantic eyes moves about the faces of strangers in the room, before he returned his horrified eyes to hers with a nod.

She followed him through the door and into the kitchen.

A minute later Queno was up on his toes, back against the wall, Devlin’s hand throttling his neck as currents of electricity shuttered his stout little body. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t breathe or, more importantly, talk.

“Tell me what room he’s in.” She said, her voice now surprisingly calm as sparks spluttered like spit from her mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the man’s statically charged voice wheezed between his struggles for breath. His face was already turning red.

“Ren.” She clarified, and brought forth a dagger with her other hand. Its blade danced excitedly with fingers of violet light as she pressed it to his stomach. “Tell me what room he’s in.”

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that he had no choice. It was either give her the information or die. Preceding a plea for his life, tears of humiliating defeat burst forth from his eyes, and then he uttered the words she wanted to hear: “Last... last door on the right.”

“You let him sell his soul.” She said. While produced the words, her grip eased on his neck, yet the currents of electric continued to disrupt his system and the dagger remained flush to his gut as his feet became flush with the floor.

“You don’t understand!” He gasped, as the red flushed from his cheeks. “There’s more to it than what you think – you need to know the whole story! Please, God, just please don’t hurt me right now.”

“They take what they want.” She surmised, lip curling with contempt. “They do what they want to do. They give him coin…. Then he gives it you.”

“Y-y-yes-yes,” He stammered, “but you don’t understand! Times are tough – and R-R-Ren isn’t what you thi –“

That was all that she needed know. Her suspicions had been proven true; there were monsters in this town.

Queno’s eye popped with shock, his body shuttered, and his teeth clamped together as his words were cut short by the shot of electricity delivered by the blade that was thrust into his stomach.

One more monster was dead.

Many of those still drinking in the tavern were no doubt drawn to the sight of Devlin when she exited the kitchen. The sight of the blood dripping from her dagger would have been hard to miss – But she was weightless again; floating in a dream, she ascended the stairs and turned right down the hall while images of her father’s dead gaze flashed across the screen of her mind. “I’m coming…” She uttered the words, though she wasn’t aware she was talking at all. “…no one’s going hurt you today…”

---

The entrance burst open! Splinters of wood sprayed from the doorframe as the lock to the door tumbled and skipped across the floor, while the darkness suddenly came alive with arms of violet light that dashed across the room.

She never stopped to take in the dark, sordid sights of events taking place in there. Before the guard could even react, his naked body was thrown across the room by a thick bending arm of electricity that slammed him against the wall. For an instant he was pinned there, convulsing violently, then dropped to the floor where at once Devlin was straddled to his chest, both daggers razed high – one blooded, one shining in the light of the moon that shown through the window – and then they both came down, plunging deep into his head through his eyes.

Though his monstrosity of a soul had now departed from his vessel, she didn’t stop there. She had lost all control, consumed in the rapture of her very own demon as she withdrew the daggers from his head, sheathed them to the small of her back, and then proceeded to expel a constant stream of power from the palms of both hands. The electrified arms of wrath scorched the guard’s corps until his flesh began fry, plumes of smoke filled the room and, despite her will to continue, she couldn’t go on any further.

At last… depleted of even the energy needed to stay on her feet, the violet arms of light fizzled out and her own body dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Defiance

Sure. Couldn't do any harm I guess.

World of Nations - A freestyle Nation RP

---

The Conference

The Zandor Citadel

Location Classified

---

On the top floor of the Citadel was a circular room, the walls of which recently replaced with three foot thick Ocularium, allowing those within to see out, yet seeming like no more than a metallic surface from an outside perspective. From inside the room was a spectacular view of jungle canopy and mountain ranges in all direction, as the pastel hues of dawn made its spread across the sky.

Chief General of Commands, Bundaris Stras, sat at the round Darkwood table in his polished shoes, pressed grey suit, white shirt and a black tie that matched his perfectly combed hair. His green eyes held a naturally intense stare, totters upon by a single thick line of brow hair. He held firm to his ideal posture, back straight, Jawline horizontal, both hands rested in loose fists on the table while inspecting the faces of other subordinate officers in his company, all of whom were dressed in their military uniforms and staring back with eyes of speculative anticipation.

“First order of business!” Bundaris’s voice belted out with its usual commanding roar. “Situation of nations! First nation of interest: Auclairé!”

Never quite getting used to the intimidating presence of Bundaris, Leading Commander of International Surveillance, Eris Falt, recovered the best he could from the Chief’s sudden outburst, readjusting to find comfort in his seat, before replying; “Nothing of direct influence to us, but the latest images provided from Orbiter 5. suggest the pending deployment of a warship from their Southern Port. Reasons for the deployment are unknown, Sir. However, ZIM (Zandor Intelligence Ministry) speculates that it may have something to do with the Auclairé vessel we spoke of in our last meeting -”

Bundaris holds up one hand to interject. “Is it just me, or does thinking about Auclairé make others hungry as well?”

“It’s probably due to the name sounding vaguely familiar to a Chocolate Éclair, Sir,” Darmin Wyn, the head advisor to the Morale Division suggested; “Those pastry creams are very tasty.”

“Indeed!” Bundaris agreed sternly.

“I like the custard center ones.” One of the female officers added. “I’d just die for one of those right now.”

“Enough!” Bundaris said, and slammed his hand back down on the table. Getting back to business, he takes his intense glare to the 2nd minister of defence, Pomella Hik, a pretty blond young woman, saying; “Have two of our vessels at the ready. If the Auclairé vessel happens to breach our waters for whatever reason, I don’t want to be sitting around with our thumbs up our ass.”

“Military assault vessels, Sir?” Pomella asked, fluttering her eyelashes at the Chief.

“What are you, stupid, woman?” Bundaris asked her with a derisive scowl. “We aren’t at war with Auclairé. Why the hell would we use Assault vessels to greet a nation that’s never shown hostility toward us?”

“I’m very sorry.” Pomella replied in a dying voice as she shrunk in her seat.

“A couple of standard Coast Guard Ships will do just fine.” Bundaris added. “And be sure you make no contact unless they actually breach our waters or otherwise make contact with us. Is that clear? We have our own business to attend to.”

She gives a timid nod to confirm.

---

“Next Order of business!” Bundaris thundered. “The federation!”

“Nothing to report, sir.” Eris speaks up again, referring to the information on his little electronic notepad device. “Latest reports indicate the entire Federation has mysteriously become inactive over the last few days.”

“Very well.” The Chief turned his head thoughtfully for a moment. “Keep orbiter 2. Surveillance ongoing. Nothing more.”

“Understood.”

---

“Now for The Lanist Khaganate!” Bundaris lowered his voice an octave with speculation. “I received reports of turmoil near their Eastern borders. Can anyone confirm?”

“Can confirm!” The first minister of Defence, Dug Stine, spoke up, his brown googly eyes almost popping from his head as he lurched forward in his seat with excitement. “Orbiter 4. Confirmed nuclear detonation East of their border.”

“Are you being serious with me right now?” Chief Bundaris glared at Dug with a slightly perturbed glower. “They set off a nuclear warhead? I thought only Listirine occupied that area of land. Are they using that area as a nuclear testing ground or something? Someone should inform them to conduct that sort of activity farther from their home, or preferably not at all.”

“No-no-no!” Dug said, shaking his head dramatically, “From what we can tell they were actually at war with the Listirine. We have reason to believe The Khaganate are looking to expand into that area of land.”

“Well then,” Bundaris remarked with a solid chuckle, “Someone should instead inform the Khaganate that it probably isn’t worth their trouble. That land would be riddles vast miles of Listirine holes. Very unstable for building on.”

“And one even bigger hole now,” Dug confirmed with a smile, “a nuclear blast tends to have that effect unstable ground.”

“Then be sure to keep tabs on their progress.” Bundaris continued to chuckle while several others in the room laughed along. “And be sure to send me personalized images of their efforts in filling that hole!”

The room broke out into laughter.

“But seriously!” Bundaris thundered once again. The room suddenly fell silent. “I don’t like the idea of nuclear weapons being used on this planet unless deemed absolutely necessary.” He smooths his hand over his perfectly groomed hair, and adds; “We have enough problems without having to worry about radiation floating around in the atmosphere.”

“Absolutely!” Desli Bash, secretary of Defense spoke up with a sharp nod of her head and slapped her hand on the table. “I’ll be sure to send them a transmission stating our concerns on the matter.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” The Chief barked at her, then turned his attention back to Dug; “Just continue surveillance at this point. Keep me apprised of their efforts. If they continue to use nuclear power beyond that of reasonable assessment, we can think about offering them a more suitable compromise to assist their goals.”

“Understood!” Both Dug and Desli confirmed at once. “But there’s just one other thing.” Dug added, waving his hand about fiercely; “The Khaganate have constructed some variety of massive land vessel. Just thought it might be best that we're all aware of that.”

Bundaris looked at the man suspiciously, and asked in a flattening tone; “…What sort of massive variety of Land Vessel?”

“The big kind, sir.” Dug replied with a smirk. “Our reconnaissance department informs us that they refer to the vessel as a Landship. It is literally the size of a decent city. Heavily armed. Well armored.”

“What in all of creation do they need something like that for, Officer Dug?” Bundaris was raising his voice again.

“We aren’t entirely sure.” Dug answered, then bit his lip with disappointed for his lack of knowledge.

Bundaris glared at the officer for a moment, and said. “Then be sure to find out.”

“Absolutely.” Dug said, edging back in his seat. “Understood.”

---

“Next order of Business!” Bundaris thundered again. “Unidentified Flying Objects! Now what the hell is going on with this situation?”

The Minister of Space Exploration and Alternative Science - a young man by the name of Wol Monti, with an greatly exaggerated overbite and glasses - stood up to formally address the Chief, saying; “Chief Bundaris, Sir. As you know, the unidentified objects entered our atmosphere some days ago. We now have reason to believe they are of extra-terrestrial origin and have established a colony of sorts many miles South East of Khaganate territory. Our most recent records also indicate that one of their vessels are on rout to the Federation, another is headed toward that strange organization known as Alfieque’s Army. We however have no idea of their intentions, Sir.”

“Sit down, Wol.” The Chief advised sternly. “This isn’t a classroom.”

“Understood, sir.” Wol complied and retook his seat.

Chief Bundaris looked out at the view of the jungle covered mountains as he considered the information for a while. Taking his attention back to Wol he shook his head firmly, and told him: “Do nothing. Continue Surveillance for now. Under no circumstances will you attempt initiate contact with them. Keep me informed of any and all changes. That’s all.”

“But… little green men, Sir!” Wol objected, removing his glasses with the glimmer of hope being dashed from his eyes. “How can we not do som–“

“Enough!” Bundaris hammered his fist on the table in all seriousness. “We don’t know if they’re little green men! They may be pink for all we know!”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir!” Wol recoiled in his seat. “I’ll never presume such a thing again.”

“Besides…” Bundaris added, adjusting his tie to regain composure. “We have enough unknown concerns to deal with in our own backyard. We’ll deal with anything else when it becomes necessary. Not before.”

“Understood….” Wol replied timidly, returning his glasses to his face.

---

“Now, for the business we’ve all been waiting for!” Bundaris said, clapping his hands together. Everyone in the room shot forward in their seats, eyes gaping in suspense as he continued his final announcement – “Detec 1. Successfully entered orbit overnight. It is as we speak processing a vast range of dimensional images of the Badlands! Within hours from now, and for the first time in the history of our Empire, we will have a clear and present idea of just what we are dealing with!”

Applause took the room in a roar, and Bundaris rested smugly back in his seat, allowing his officers to settle down again before completing his report.

“Now, don’t get too excited just yet.” He told them as they lowered into their seats again. “We still have a lot of work to do. But there’s no doubt in my mind that our next meeting will consist of strategies to retrieve our missing people from Vos and bring them back home safe again. Failing that….” He concluded, taking note of each face as he looked around the room, “…in the possibility that we find there’s no one left to save, I suppose our next meeting will be comprised of a more… aggressive plan of action.”

---

Hiatus

One and a half years ago, Her Eminence Goaldinhoe’s sanctioning of the movement to find her missing people by any means possible gave birth to a great number of revolutionary developments. The following is an example of one such technology.

Second Instalment of Visual and Sensory

---

Perceptic Telefusion: Primarily used for military and government projects, Perceptic Telefusion is the name given to Zandor’s Cloaking Technology. It was developed, as fate would have it, by an elderly Zandorian commoner by the name of Percep Covort. Perceptic Telefusion is basically a type of electronic interface which is conducted via plasma relay systems, designed to read and extrapolate data from a specified radius around its host, while simultaneously using light refraction, sonic interference and reflective heat intervention to recreate the visual and sensory display of said radius, thus causing its host to appear invisible by visual, sonic and heat sensory means.

On a side note: After living a long life as a simple commoner, Percept Covort was lifted in ranks to Senior Science Official of the Zandor Empire on account of his invention. He passed away two weeks later. May he rest in peace.

Defiance

---

Something of Peculiar Beauty

---

There came a time in everyone’s life when they encountered something… enriching, and no matter how long someone searched or how much pain they endured, there is always that faint, dwindling spark of hope lingering in the dark recesses of their mind. For a long time, Devlin had considered that special something to be Mada, the one that hoisted her from the ruins of devastation, the one that kept her safe for years, the one that reformed her from the traumatised mess of a girl she once knew. Yet regardless of the majestic fortitude of Mada, he wasn’t any match for the stirring graces that derived from the small, selfless act of another… tortured human soul.

…She was getting very little from listening in on the chat taking place in various corners of the room, and was just about to receive her first taste from the contents of her bottle when benevolence touched down on the table before her. Her first instinct was ire, that old foreboding darkness, it felt like a ravenous swelling of flames within her chest, pumped out from her heart in a spell of a thousand needles that pierced her flesh – It would have no doubt been seen by the perfect stranger as a red flush of rage painting the scowl of her face, while he took the liberty of making himself at home in a chair at her table. Her unprovocative view of the wall was now gone, replaced by the… farcical mimes of a mute.

The tortured soul….

Mada was a telepath, and although he could speak, he rarely did unless he needed to; mostly communicating through thought or otherwise simple gestures of his own. Not only did Mada’s lack of spoken words make Devlin accustomed to various styles of body language, it also taught her the skills of less than common observation. Well, perhaps it would have been obvious to anyone, but she already knew the porridge was for her before this stranger gestured his intent - but regardless of that - the somehow pitiful display of the young man before her managed to wrestle her beast to assent.

She could have never expected this. The ire within quickly subsided in the face of this implausible outcome, yet her glower may have lingered in its absence while she watched him quietly, not so much as even willing a peep while he silently designed his announcements.

It was something of peculiar beauty, and for the moment, at least, she’d been distracted from her troubles. The possibility of humiliation hadn’t entered his mind, or maybe it just didn’t matter to him. This was his sacrifice - not one of money or charity; whether he could help her or not was beside the point, it was the purity of his intention that plucked at the crust of her heart. The vulnerability of kindness. This was his handle upon the evils in this world. This was his strength… and it made his effort perfect.

She was quick to discover the man’s strength, yes, but she was nobody’s fool. His strength could have been anybody’s weakness, and it was possible she was about to be swindled by a cunning hustler.

As the young man sat there in continued silence awaiting a response from Devlin, her expression was now absent, void of any trace of emotion at all. She scarcely regarded the porridge and bread with a shift of her eyes, released the bottle from her grip, then eased back in her chair. Lifting one hand slowly, she drew back the hood from her head and leaned her body to one side, her eyes piercing his with an analytical stare.

“I don’t think you can help me, and what I seek could very well kill me. It’s best I keep no friends.” She said, and glanced at the warm bowl of food once again. “I thank you for the food.” She added, then looked over her shoulder at the barkeep before returning her eyes to his. The smallest trace of a grin was now present. “He only offered me stew. It tasted like… shit.” Her nostrils lightly flared while she reached out with one hand and dragged the bowl of porridge closer to the edge of the table. “I don’t know what he told you, stranger, but I have no more to give. So if that’s what you’re here for then… you best be on your way.”

Devlin was by no means sure that her assumption held any substance, and honestly she was hoping it didn’t. He was one of the more intriguing individuals she had met and she didn’t want to spoil the prospect of learning more about him. It wasn’t very often she could say that about someone, and for this reason she refrained from hostility towards him. Hopefully she wouldn’t cause offense by throwing his integrity into question.

She was still now, eyes fixed on his, holding the slightest of speculative grins while awaiting his response.