Konan375I'll do my best to have one up later tonight or tomorrow.
Quickly! Save Kiara!
Rtron
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Quickly! Save Kiara!
Fixed.
@Rtron If even Outsiders, who can only be the uber-spies of the game and have eyes capable of detecting auras and divine presence, don't know about necromancy yet, Aztoc definitely shouldn't.
My bad, I was under the impression thirty days had passed and things were moving forward rapidly. I'll edit.
It'd be more funny if Ialu heard the prayer
Hah! Aztoc purposely excluded Demi Gods!
<Snipped quote by Rtron>
It'd be funny if the god who answered his prayer told him that in order to give him power, the memory of him would be deleted from the world. Everything that he did would be forgotten and only him and the ones who followed him to death would know who Ialu fought against in the last war. Spooky.
Shhh don't give them ideas!
Quickly, someone answer Aztoc's prayer.
Garakai is completely screwed at this point.
Garakai is completely screwed at this point.
Aztoc, level 18 hero
Aztoc, current ruler of Garakai, wielder of a secret magic, Lord of Dragons, knew when he was outmatched. Or, more accurately in this case, completely fucked. Reports had been coming in for days about how Ialu was still alive. What's worse, The tyrant still had most of his force left and was gathering more. Vowzra's Victors indeed. More like Vowzra's failures. Aztoc thought bitterly, brooding on his throne. He had only roughly 30 enslaved dragons to serve him, and no fighters. The townsfolk had long ago flocked to friendlier places, namely the Cimex and Uri that served Vestec as well.
It was just Aztoc and his hall. He had all he wanted. The throne he had long coveted. The kingdom he had long yearned for. It was all his. His empty throne. His kingdom of ash. Never thought I'd miss Viscardi, or Cassios.
Still, he didn't intend to die without a fight. Alone, with his dragons, he would be destroyed. Even if he sent them against the mages and Ialu himself Ialu's remaining loyal hordes would simply bring them down, if Ialu himself didn't. There was one last thing he could try, however. One last desperate ploy.
His feet followed the well worn, muddied, path through the snow. The capital city of Garakai, the Empire's namesake, was reverently quiet, as if it too waited to see what its fate would be by the end of this battle. Will it's walls remain, tall and proud? Or will it be reduced to rubble, a forgotten empire whose bones will serve as the foundation of a new era? Aztoc wondered as he entered the temple to the Gods. He didn't go to any specific shrine. He knelt in the center of the temple, his prayer going to any god who would listen.
"Gods of Galbar, I will not lie to you. I am a evil man, by anyone's idea of 'evil'. I have lied, stolen, murdered, enslaved, conquered, and betrayed. All in the name of power. And I regret nothing. I do not throw myself at your mercy, do not pray and beg, to have my life spared. My choices have brought me to this situation, and I will accept my fate. I pray to you to give me the power to fight my enemies. To leave my mark on them before I die. To let the future know that the last true Lord of Garakai did not go quietly into the night. That I did not die cowering behind my walls. That I fought with my dying breath and my enemies knew fear. I will pay any price demanded from me. Just give me this one chance to make Garakai's memory be that of an Empire and not of a hovel."
Viscardi, level 23 hero.
Vestec's island had been changed through Viscardi's busy effort. A rough house had been crafted from stone, a small garden set up as best he could. The Former Lord of the North was clearly no architect or gardener, but he tried. As Roxan appeared laughing maniacally, Viscardi stepped out, for once in normal clothes rather than his armor. The sword was in his hands, however, ready to be used in a heartbeat. "Roxan!" He spoke, a smile breaking across his craggy, wrinkled, face. "It's good to-" He stopped as he saw the two eggs in the Demi-Goddess' hands. "Timeless one above, please tell me you didn't steal that from a dragon and I should be putting my armor. I just got done building this terrible hovel and I don't want to have to rebuild it."
Aztoc, current ruler of Garakai, wielder of a secret magic, Lord of Dragons, knew when he was outmatched. Or, more accurately in this case, completely fucked. Reports had been coming in for days about how Ialu was still alive. What's worse, The tyrant still had most of his force left and was gathering more. Vowzra's Victors indeed. More like Vowzra's failures. Aztoc thought bitterly, brooding on his throne. He had only roughly 30 enslaved dragons to serve him, and no fighters. The townsfolk had long ago flocked to friendlier places, namely the Cimex and Uri that served Vestec as well.
It was just Aztoc and his hall. He had all he wanted. The throne he had long coveted. The kingdom he had long yearned for. It was all his. His empty throne. His kingdom of ash. Never thought I'd miss Viscardi, or Cassios.
Still, he didn't intend to die without a fight. Alone, with his dragons, he would be destroyed. Even if he sent them against the mages and Ialu himself Ialu's remaining loyal hordes would simply bring them down, if Ialu himself didn't. There was one last thing he could try, however. One last desperate ploy.
His feet followed the well worn, muddied, path through the snow. The capital city of Garakai, the Empire's namesake, was reverently quiet, as if it too waited to see what its fate would be by the end of this battle. Will it's walls remain, tall and proud? Or will it be reduced to rubble, a forgotten empire whose bones will serve as the foundation of a new era? Aztoc wondered as he entered the temple to the Gods. He didn't go to any specific shrine. He knelt in the center of the temple, his prayer going to any god who would listen.
"Gods of Galbar, I will not lie to you. I am a evil man, by anyone's idea of 'evil'. I have lied, stolen, murdered, enslaved, conquered, and betrayed. All in the name of power. And I regret nothing. I do not throw myself at your mercy, do not pray and beg, to have my life spared. My choices have brought me to this situation, and I will accept my fate. I pray to you to give me the power to fight my enemies. To leave my mark on them before I die. To let the future know that the last true Lord of Garakai did not go quietly into the night. That I did not die cowering behind my walls. That I fought with my dying breath and my enemies knew fear. I will pay any price demanded from me. Just give me this one chance to make Garakai's memory be that of an Empire and not of a hovel."
Viscardi, level 23 hero.
Vestec's island had been changed through Viscardi's busy effort. A rough house had been crafted from stone, a small garden set up as best he could. The Former Lord of the North was clearly no architect or gardener, but he tried. As Roxan appeared laughing maniacally, Viscardi stepped out, for once in normal clothes rather than his armor. The sword was in his hands, however, ready to be used in a heartbeat. "Roxan!" He spoke, a smile breaking across his craggy, wrinkled, face. "It's good to-" He stopped as he saw the two eggs in the Demi-Goddess' hands. "Timeless one above, please tell me you didn't steal that from a dragon and I should be putting my armor. I just got done building this terrible hovel and I don't want to have to rebuild it."
Voira, standing protectively beside Raa, reacted almost instantly as the doors exploded, snapping a barrier over herself and the Quarian. That turned out to be a beneficial move as bullets ricocheted off of her barrier and a grenade tumbled into the room. There was no way the Asari was going to drop the barrier to throw it back out, so she could only hope their allies would react quickly enough to deal with it and the enemies firing through the other door. Fortunately for all involved (well, except the poor bastards out in the hall), the human had reacted quickly enough, Barrier going around and throwing the grenade back outside. The two enemies were cut down in a hail of bullets. Voira could feel the tension rising as the hostiles made various sounds outside, the time seeming to inch by as they waited for the next attack. When it did come, it came blindingly fast and unexpectedly.
The biotic charge shattered through Voira's barrier, as it was snapped up in a hurry and meant to stop bullets and shrapnel not a biotically enhanced battering ram. Voira only had a split second to turn and brace, getting slammed into and knocked backwards. She tumbled over the ground, assault rifle knocked Goddess knows where, scrambling to her feet in a heartbeat, drawing her shot gun as she did so. A pathetic relief cut through her rage and panic as she noted it had the anti-armor rounds in it. Still, the invader was right next to Raa. No. No nononofucknowecantlosehergetthefuckawayfromheryoubitch Voira's thoughts rapidly disintegrated into a panicked, enraged, need to destroy the biotic who had attacked her. "Die. Die. DIE!" Voira screamed, throwing a blast of biotic energy at the black armored woman, shot gun slugs soon following wherever the biotic dodged or blocked or moved as Voira moved forward to get her away from Raa.
The biotic charge shattered through Voira's barrier, as it was snapped up in a hurry and meant to stop bullets and shrapnel not a biotically enhanced battering ram. Voira only had a split second to turn and brace, getting slammed into and knocked backwards. She tumbled over the ground, assault rifle knocked Goddess knows where, scrambling to her feet in a heartbeat, drawing her shot gun as she did so. A pathetic relief cut through her rage and panic as she noted it had the anti-armor rounds in it. Still, the invader was right next to Raa. No. No nononofucknowecantlosehergetthefuckawayfromheryoubitch Voira's thoughts rapidly disintegrated into a panicked, enraged, need to destroy the biotic who had attacked her. "Die. Die. DIE!" Voira screamed, throwing a blast of biotic energy at the black armored woman, shot gun slugs soon following wherever the biotic dodged or blocked or moved as Voira moved forward to get her away from Raa.
Althalus's back up plan if Alaira finds out what he's doing: Hug her and tell her how great she is when she isn't killing him.
Uicle
Uicle was irritated. He had been bullied, cajoled, and corralled into over seeing the preparations. Not only by Khan, but by the Archmage himself. Ovak was finally out of his bed, and was sitting nearby, watching in amusement as the Necromancy teacher tried to keep everything under control, juggling diplomats, his golems, and other members of the College."I'll get you for this Ovak."He hissed at the Archmage in ancient Yarosmerian as yet another man came up. "What? No they can't have their own cooks prepare their meals! We're not going to poison them or let them have a chance to poison someone else." The messenger opened his mouth again and Uicle cut him off. "If they complain and threaten you, politely remind them they're a guest at the College, not conquering heroes. Some steel golems will join you to make your point nicely."
As soon as that man left, another man stepped up. Complaining something about Alaira and a forge. "Go grab some guards and move her if she isn't out by noon. Don't use them unless she gets violent herself though, I don't need broken bones and walls today. If she refuses to move, tell her I'll...I'll lock her in a cave unless she gets out of there, and restrict access to Lyn." The man left.
Another man stepped up, arrmed and armored, he was obviously apart of some diplomat's bodyguard. Distracted as he was making sure some Golems helped College guards break up a fight between two groups, Uicle couldn't remember where his armor said he was from. "My men and I need a place to train. Is there space somewhere?" Uicle thought for a moment then said "Yes, go down that hall until you reach the end of it, take a right, and then take your first left. That should lead you to a courtyard. There's someone already there, but you should have enough space." With a nod the man turned about, just as the Necromancy teacher remembered the armor, and who was in the courtyard. "Wait!" The man paused, looking at him. "You're from the Eania delegation right?" The man nodded. "Great! Go down this hall instead, same instructions as before." The man looked at him for a moment and then shrugged and left. "I don't need a massive brawl after you and Djarkel's bodyguards try to out show each other." Uicle muttered.
If he had had eyebrows Uicle would have raised them both in surprise at the small group of Snow Elves, obviously a diplomatic delegation. "Snow Elves? What brings the Frozen plains here?" The female elf spoke simply. "Demons and war. We need somewhere to set up." Uicle sighed. "Of course they do and of course you do. You! Yes, you, you stupid Gargoyle! You've been in existence for three hours not three seconds! Take the Snow Elf delegation to nearby the Eania delegates. I think they'll want to talk."
A diplomat from Tidehome showed up, complaining about how he was situated to closely to the Orcs and mentioning frequently that he was a diplomat to Tidehome. "I-" Uicle was about to say 'I don't care where you're from or who you represent, you pompous ass! I've bigger problems than your delicate sensibilities!', or something even more rude. Fortunately, sense won out over irritation and he spoke in as calm a tone as he was able. "I apologize for this inconvenience. If you'd follow this steel golem, it will guide you to a better location." The man was politely but firmly bustled off by the steel golem, much to Uicle's relief.
He turned to give as best a baleful glare at Ovak as he could, speaking once again in ancient Yarosmerian a language long dead. "Put Uicle in charge you said! It'll be a good idea you said! Never mind that I resisted and told you how bad an idea it would be! I hate playing nice with damn politicians and diplomats!" He groaned as he saw another messenger coming, rubbing a hand across his metal face. "Gods help me..."
Althalus
Althalus was idly wandering the gardens, amusing himself by flicking his coin between his fingers as he watched the Herbamancers bustle to and fro in preparation to make everything look nice for the diplomats. Mar was resting, and thankfully calmed down and emotionally stable, and Lyn was with Ovak playing. That left Althalus with nothing to do for the first time in a long time, and he was immensely enjoying the feeling. Walking along, his eyes spotted Alaira. She was sleeping on a bench. More importantly, she was sleeping on a bench with her spear out of her hands and propped against the wall. Althalus hadn't seen this spear before, but that mattered little. What did matter was how Alaira was going to react when she realized it was gone. He wouldn't steal it and sell it or break it, of course. Just hide it nearby so she'd have to put a little effort into her day to day, and get creative thinking. He might even leave hints where it was if he had enough time.
Putting his coin safely back in his pocket, Althalus crept towards the sleeping berserker, instinctively and easily slipping into an almost completely silent walk and crouch as he approached. Carefully his hand reached for the spear, eyes on Alaira's sleeping form as his fingers gently wrapped around the haft.
Uicle was irritated. He had been bullied, cajoled, and corralled into over seeing the preparations. Not only by Khan, but by the Archmage himself. Ovak was finally out of his bed, and was sitting nearby, watching in amusement as the Necromancy teacher tried to keep everything under control, juggling diplomats, his golems, and other members of the College."I'll get you for this Ovak."He hissed at the Archmage in ancient Yarosmerian as yet another man came up. "What? No they can't have their own cooks prepare their meals! We're not going to poison them or let them have a chance to poison someone else." The messenger opened his mouth again and Uicle cut him off. "If they complain and threaten you, politely remind them they're a guest at the College, not conquering heroes. Some steel golems will join you to make your point nicely."
As soon as that man left, another man stepped up. Complaining something about Alaira and a forge. "Go grab some guards and move her if she isn't out by noon. Don't use them unless she gets violent herself though, I don't need broken bones and walls today. If she refuses to move, tell her I'll...I'll lock her in a cave unless she gets out of there, and restrict access to Lyn." The man left.
Another man stepped up, arrmed and armored, he was obviously apart of some diplomat's bodyguard. Distracted as he was making sure some Golems helped College guards break up a fight between two groups, Uicle couldn't remember where his armor said he was from. "My men and I need a place to train. Is there space somewhere?" Uicle thought for a moment then said "Yes, go down that hall until you reach the end of it, take a right, and then take your first left. That should lead you to a courtyard. There's someone already there, but you should have enough space." With a nod the man turned about, just as the Necromancy teacher remembered the armor, and who was in the courtyard. "Wait!" The man paused, looking at him. "You're from the Eania delegation right?" The man nodded. "Great! Go down this hall instead, same instructions as before." The man looked at him for a moment and then shrugged and left. "I don't need a massive brawl after you and Djarkel's bodyguards try to out show each other." Uicle muttered.
If he had had eyebrows Uicle would have raised them both in surprise at the small group of Snow Elves, obviously a diplomatic delegation. "Snow Elves? What brings the Frozen plains here?" The female elf spoke simply. "Demons and war. We need somewhere to set up." Uicle sighed. "Of course they do and of course you do. You! Yes, you, you stupid Gargoyle! You've been in existence for three hours not three seconds! Take the Snow Elf delegation to nearby the Eania delegates. I think they'll want to talk."
A diplomat from Tidehome showed up, complaining about how he was situated to closely to the Orcs and mentioning frequently that he was a diplomat to Tidehome. "I-" Uicle was about to say 'I don't care where you're from or who you represent, you pompous ass! I've bigger problems than your delicate sensibilities!', or something even more rude. Fortunately, sense won out over irritation and he spoke in as calm a tone as he was able. "I apologize for this inconvenience. If you'd follow this steel golem, it will guide you to a better location." The man was politely but firmly bustled off by the steel golem, much to Uicle's relief.
He turned to give as best a baleful glare at Ovak as he could, speaking once again in ancient Yarosmerian a language long dead. "Put Uicle in charge you said! It'll be a good idea you said! Never mind that I resisted and told you how bad an idea it would be! I hate playing nice with damn politicians and diplomats!" He groaned as he saw another messenger coming, rubbing a hand across his metal face. "Gods help me..."
Althalus
Althalus was idly wandering the gardens, amusing himself by flicking his coin between his fingers as he watched the Herbamancers bustle to and fro in preparation to make everything look nice for the diplomats. Mar was resting, and thankfully calmed down and emotionally stable, and Lyn was with Ovak playing. That left Althalus with nothing to do for the first time in a long time, and he was immensely enjoying the feeling. Walking along, his eyes spotted Alaira. She was sleeping on a bench. More importantly, she was sleeping on a bench with her spear out of her hands and propped against the wall. Althalus hadn't seen this spear before, but that mattered little. What did matter was how Alaira was going to react when she realized it was gone. He wouldn't steal it and sell it or break it, of course. Just hide it nearby so she'd have to put a little effort into her day to day, and get creative thinking. He might even leave hints where it was if he had enough time.
Putting his coin safely back in his pocket, Althalus crept towards the sleeping berserker, instinctively and easily slipping into an almost completely silent walk and crouch as he approached. Carefully his hand reached for the spear, eyes on Alaira's sleeping form as his fingers gently wrapped around the haft.
100 Years, huh? Cool with me, really. Gives me time to get Astarte to really build a faction of summoners or some shiz.
And she shall teach them the art of the tease. :p
A friendly reminder that the god of Chaos still owes the ruggedly handsome Master of the Forge a payment.
That is all.
Vestec: I'm interested to see what you'll do. Go for it.
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