Sep

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

I had wanted to get to my days off and add more, but reckoned we'd keep the IC going

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

DEMONS BONEYARD // THIRD MOONRISE OF SECOND SEASON
_{All language within - { } - is translated to 'English' from Native.}

Cries Relentlessly didn't waste any time, turning around immediately. {Wait here, do not attempt to enter and do not allow anyone else to try and access this room either. I am off to find Son'ta'ck.}
The younger Enthusiastically Incorrect tilted his head curiously.

{Why would we need the Inquisitor?} Cries Relentlessly could barely hear him though, as his pack pushed him away from the bowels of the ship.

{It is dangerous, wait here. Do nothing.} Drifting through the halls, and between bulkheads. He had seen that marker in his studies, it was the symbol the demons attributed to something they called 'radiation'. They used this radiation to power their ships, however, they also used it to create powerfully explosive ordnance. There had been instances in the past, where such devices had been set off either accidentally or part of some demon trap. No, the only safe path forward was to bypass any potential security by cutting open the door. The only one who had the equipment to cut through the door of reinforced metal was the Inquisitor. None of the other tools they had present would be up for the job.

Entering what was once some form of the observation deck, with large windows that were cracked and broken, an armoured warrior sat with his legs crossed hovering in the middle of the room. Using his jets to force himself to the deck, and his knees. {Inquisitor. We require your assistance, with great urgency.} Cries Relentlessly bowed his head as low as possible.

{Rise, Breaker.} The hovering Inquisitor opened his eyes, looking the Tainted up and down. There was always a certain air of displeasure when dealing with the elderly warrior. Cries Relentlessly knew that the old warrior would rather be away fighting, rather than spending his life in zero-G on a demon vessel while the tainted took it apart. {What could you have possibly found that is of interest to me? All the warriors are long gone.}

Cries Relentlessly raising his head slowly. {We have found the weapons battery, I believe there are weapons of great destructive power. I fear if we mismanage this situation we will end up re-creating the events of the big flash-} An event twenty years ago, when dismantling a demon vessel a great explosion obliterated all the nearby ships. Hundreds lost their lives, ships were damaged and destroyed. This was the reason all salvage operations had an Inquisitor present, with the fleet of support vessels nearly an hours flight away. {-I need you to come and cut open the door, to avoid activating any traps the demons may have left behind.}

---

SHELTER OF THOSE WHO SHAPE // THIRD MOONRISE OF SECOND SEASON
All language within - { } - is translated to 'English' from Native.

Requires Discipline sat in the corner of the feeding hall, trying to ignore all the dirty looks and glances the others gave him. To be Mavon was to be the most respected of all the Tainted. That, however, wasn't saying very much in the grand scheme of things. They still viewed him as a dirty thing, a necessary evil. The ones who worked with the demons' technology, dirtied their eternal soul for the benefit of the Chosen. He had been given over to the Tainted when he had barely learnt how to walk and never known any different—the most basic of clothes, food, and constant education. By the age of five they were expected to be fluent in 'English', the most prominent of all the Demons Tounges.

He picked up another slice of the Ovis meat and placed it in his mouth. Chewing it thoroughly to release all the flavour before swallowing it whole. The meat was rich and heavy. Requires Discipline closed his eyes to enjoy the taste, he could spend all his day here. Looking back down at his food, he looked up as a shadow was cast over his tray. Before him stood a young male, barely fifteen winters. He said nothing and just hovered over him. Requires Discipline swallowed, and spoke. {Is there an issue, young one?}

The youngling cleared his throat, his voice croaking in the struggles of youth. {Apologies Mavon, my name is Pla'ck.} The youngling bowed his head, a gesture that not many of the Chosen extended towards the tainted. Even him, as Mavon was still a lower caste than any of the others. He was simply, the top of lowest.

{And how can I help you Pla'ck?}

{-I heard you were chosen to be Mavon, as you desire to be a Shaper?}

{I aim to improve the God-Given technology, to try and remove our reliance on the Demon Technology, because as we wipe them out it becomes rarer and rarer, and harder to maintain.}

The young one nodded his head retrospectively, Requires Discipline though that that was the conversation. Eventually however he spoke quietly. {A noble cause.} There was a whistle from the far side of the room, and the youngling snapped his head in the direction of the whistle, Requires Discipline put another piece of meat into his mouth and turned to look lazily. Seeing a tall, well toned and stunning female.

{Come Pla'ck!}

The young-one turned back to the Mavon. {Sorry, that is my tutor. I must go.} Requires Discipline waved his hand farewell, and watched as the youngling left, his eyes focused on his tutor.

ATLA Interest?

After the end of the hundred year war could be interesting, because with the backdrop of the Avatar doing Avatar things you also have military men who are used to having absolute power with the war on. I reckon you could have an Earth Kingdom warlord or even some elite Water Tribe warriors who decide... Why would we go home when we can take what we want here?

Lot of potential for a story.

ATLA Interest?

Potentially interested. Like the idea of doing something one either the 100 Year War or while an AU Avatar (or even Aang) is off on their adventure doing their thang.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

DEMONS BONEYARD // THIRD MOONRISE OF SECOND SEASON
_{All language within - { } - is translated to 'English' from Native.}

Cries Relentlessly closed his eyes, he allowed the weightlessness to hold him. He wore a modified version of the combat harness that the warriors wore. This one had propulsion nodes sticking out of his back, magnetic locking boots and gloves and the helmet encased his head, giving him a steady supply of air for about eight hours. Unless he carried a reserve supply or was topped off.

While dismantling a demon temple on the second moon, he had fallen and broken his leg. It had never healed properly, and as such it caused him constant pain and discomfort. Except when he was enjoying the weightlessness of the void. This was why he accepted this post. The lack of gravity agreed with him. He shone his small beacon down through another open panel, his jaws twisting in frustration at the burn marks on the wall.

The warriors who had taken this ship had been overzealous, to say the least. They had damaged many of the useful circuits and pathways that they required to fit their ships with communication and sensor equipment. The information left behind by the Gods, and translated by Miriam was vast and taught them much. They could grow ships and weapons. However, some systems still had a hard time understanding enough to replicate them by themselves. That is why they gathered all the unholy relics and deposited them here, deep in space and far away from the planet.

This was where the Tainted spent their days trawling through the burnt hulks of demon warships, passing racks of both large and small munitions. Despite his training, many of these relics held little significance for him. He turned and shone a light passed the large, open, door behind him. In the centre of this 'safe-room' sat a large pile of what the ship's computer and historical documents had called 'currency' or 'money'. The demons didn't barter for goods, instead, they arbitrarily assigned value to little 'credit chips', which they then exchanged for goods and services.

It sounded truly barbaric. Shaking his head, he pushed himself away from the wall. Closing his eyes as he drifted through the hallways of the ship. This must be how the spirits felt on their way through the void. He never got tired of this feeling, many Tainted came and spent their time here before moving on. Not him. Since he had come here twelve years ago this had been his home. No one else knew these demon relics better than he did.

{Breaker!}

He opened his eyes at the call. Breaker was the name that many here had taken to calling him. A sign of respect, bestowed upon him by the Shipmistress who protected these grounds from those who would hamper their work, as well as managing any combat drills that utilised the alien husks. Before him, in a plain white suit was a younger brother.

{What is it, Enthusiastically Incorrect?}

{I was told to find you straight away, we were searching in the weapons array as you instructed, and we found something}

The youngster didn't wait for a response and turned and fired his jets back the way he came. Cries Relentlessly sighed and fired his own. The young very often had no patience. He had seen many come through the boneyard, and they were always eager to prove themselves. There were no shortcuts to be taken here, the demons technology was tricky and often had traps built into them. The younger brother stopped before a doorway, that looked thicker than the one that held the demons currency. It was interlaced with various hatches and locks, and a large yellow circle sat in the middle of the round door. Three black blades emanated from a central black circle.

The demon sign for radiation. This wasn't the reactor, Cries Relentlessly had been the one to dismantle it personally. No, this was something else. He tried to go over the floorplan of the ship in his mind, based on everything else he had ever come across.

Enthusiastically Incorrect extended a palm towards the door controls.

{Wait!}

The younger turned to face him, flexing his jaws in contemplation, his hand hovered mere centimetres from the control panel. {Why, what is this place?}

Cries Relentlessly sighed, and with some degree of confidence looked the younger creature straight in the eyes. {The weapons battery.}

---

CRASH SITE ALPHA // PLASMA GORGE // DAY 302

The whole place stank of piss and shit. Anders crawled underneath a half-open door. A ticket on the door said that it had broken four hundred days ago. It was on his to-do list, he grunted as he reached back and pulled his toolbag underneath the door before bringing himself back to his feet. There were more important things to worry about in the meantime, such as contact day. To achieve contact day, he had to go outside and fix the antenna. He only had three days. Dragging his tools along the corridor, others grunted and nodded in greeting as he walked passed towards the end of the hallway.

He felt a tug at his waist, groaning and rolling his eyes slightly he turned to see Jason. "Where you goin' boss?"

Anders voice was hoarse and cracked. He pulled a cigarette out from his top pocket and put it in his mouth, the end was worn and the colour faded from the amount of times he had it in his mouth. He didn't go for his lighter, instead he just held it in his mouth. Unwillingly to lose one of his precious few last cigarettes. "Outside."

Jason nodded his head and went to grab the toolbag. Ready to fill in his usual role as apprentice. Anders just raised the bag higher out of his reach. "No. You stay inside, I'll go." The young boy furrowed his brow.

"Why?"

"Because I said."

"Contact day is important."

"It is, but you're not ready-" Anders pointed towards the door that he had just had to crawl under. "-Go fix that." Jason rolled his eyes and groaned as he threw his head back.

"UGH, a door?"

"Get on with it." Anders turned and didn't pay Jason anymore notice, walking towards the airlock. Contact Day was far too important, he couldn't have a kid messing him up. They only powered up communications once every 305 days, out of fear that the aliens would find them. Not many ships remained, every time contact day came around fewer and fewer ships responded.

They were a dying race, and there was nothing they could do.

---

HARBRINGER OF UNENDING TRUTH // FLAGSHIP // THIRD MOONRISE OF SECOND SEASON
_{All language within - { } - is translated to 'English' from Native.}

"We... are surely god-chosen, as you say, 'Angel Miriam.' Chosen by all the gods. By Woden, by Zeus, by Vishnu, by the Mothers and Brothers. By the wind of all the spirits good and bad, by angels and demons, we have come. So always does one who has Revelation and walks with a foot in the world of spirit. But what are you?"

@Tortoise

It took a frustratingly long time for Miriam to connect to the alien vessel to get some form of visual telemetry back from the ship. In reality, it was seconds, but for someone with her perception of time that may as well have been years. Woden, Zeus, Vishnu. They were terms she recognised, they were on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't place them. Her holographic wings shuddered and shook as she noticed to whom she was speaking. These beings, these strange visitors to their world were humans. Demons.

The hologram of Miriam shook, glitching out and then split into two. One half of it turned to the other and placed a hand on its chest. Seemingly cause it to freeze.

”You cannot be here. You must leave.”

Meanwhile back on the ship talons curled, as the Deacon watched the screen as the strange vessels continued to push into the system. {Miriam, what is going on?} A copy of the AI avatar of Miriam appeared on the holographic projector, stretching slightly. Looking up directly into the Deacons eyes, not that she had to being a holographic representation of a being without an actual physical body.

{Unclear. I have made contact, however I can no longer communicate with myself.} The Deacon stood up walking closer to the dias, she tried hard to conceal her concern. In all the years she had worked with the Angel, she had never known Miriam to lose contact with herself. Especially with such a small distance between points. She couldn’t allow anyone to steal the angel away from them, but they had never encountered someone with that capability.

{Shipmistress.} The Shipmistress Al’nok turned, her tall frame moving with an elegance one wouldn’t expect from a creature of that size.

{Yes Deacon?”}

{Prepare the boarding craft} Things were now in motion, should Miriam be unable to regain contact with herself, they would go in with their holy wrath and bring her back.

Word association Game!

Programming

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

<Snipped quote by Sep>

Unironically my guys have bio-modded/genetically-modified soldiers, which reminds me of Spartans.....wait. All we need now is some precursor station and the Not!Flood. Lol. XD

@Crusader Lord

@Tortoise actually has Spartans, more akin to the Spartan-II.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

No Wraith allowed

K I D F L A S H
K I D F L A S H

^{"If you were a gentleman, sir, you would let me win this race."}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Wallace 'Wally' West _________________________________________________________ 19 | Single _________________________________________________________ Flash Family | American N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S _________________________________________________________ [+] - A B I L I T I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Super Speed: Wallys connection to the 'Speed-Force' grants him a large variety of feats. The most obvious of these is the easily explained ability to travel at super-human speeds. ◼ Super Durability: Due to his bodys ability to travel at super-human speeds, it is also capable of withstanding more punishment than a normal human being. ◼ Speed Thinking: Similar to above, to travel at super-speeds, his mind needs to be able to process things at an enhanced rate. - T O O L (S) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Goggles: While protecting his eyes when travelling at speeds, the goggles he wears are also capable of running through a variety of different light and radiation frequencies not normally visible to the human eye. ◼ Flash Costume: A durable fabric, including shoes. His Superhero costume. Not much more needs said. - N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S _________________________________________________________ [+] - S K I L L (S) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ SKILL ◼Strong Intellect: Wally is a skilled scientist; he has a firm grasp on many of the fundamentals of Physics, Biology and Chemistry. ◼Athleticism: Ran in track in high school, studied boxing. He's not as skilled at fighting as Bat-Spawn, but he's not entirely useless. - T A L E N T (S) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼Budding Scientist:: At times, a detriment. Wally has a very logical mind, which helps him solve problems and advance his studies; however, it sometimes locks him into one possible solution even if it isn't the one to save the day. -

T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... ________________________________________________________________________________________ Wallace 'Wally' West was the biggest fan of the Flash growing up. Both the original, who had been a member of the Justice Society of America living in his hometime of Keystone City, and the newer Flash in Central City, who went on to help found the Justice League. A relatively intelligent individual, the only thing his parents couldn't figure out was why such an intelligent young man, a budding scientist, was so focused on this impossible desire to be a Super-Hero. When he wasn't studying or trying to socialise with the ladies, he was poring over Flash comic books and memorabilia. Watching a combination of old news reels, and reading old journals Wally started to get a basic understanding of the experiment that had resulted in the original Flash gaining his abilities. It still, however, was not enough. Until he went to visit his Aunt Iris in Central City. His Aunt was a journalist in Central City, and probably his closest friend. His parents' motives to send him were sneaky; his Grandfather was a Detective at the CCPD, and his adopted son, Wallys adopted Uncle, was a forensic scientist. Wally didn't much care about becoming a forensic scientist; what he cared about was that Barry Allen was friends with the Flash. One interview later, and between what he had discovered of the Original Flash, and the new Flash Wally had all he needed. His experiment hurt, and he ended up with burns all over his body however, as he healed his metabolism began to speed up as his body slowly began unlocking its new enhanced speeds. Stopping a few low-key robberies throughout Keystone he gained the attention of The Flash, who he discovered was none other than Barry Allen. Now using the moniker Kid Flash, all his dreams came true. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ I always enjoyed Wallys portrayal as a more Human/Grounded Speedster. Particularily I enjoy his Young Justice portrayal where he isn't quite as fast as Barry, and then later Impulse. His scientific ability and his brain are just as important as his ability to run fast. Which, for me, having never written a speedster before, is a really exciting prospect for me to write. I also always liked how the Flash Family operations, especially when you get the three different generations working together. In terms of specific plots I want to write, I'd like to put Wally through his paces. Both in terms of dealing with magical shenanigans, learning how to work as part of a team and coming to terms with both his limits and capabilities. I'd like to introduce some classic Flash villains, as well as get the theme of Legacy going when something happens to one or both of his mentors. Will Wally be up for the task?

---

MARVELS: Streets of New York

I don't want to just dip but sorry folks just not feeling this one!

Catch you next go around.