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Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

Charter sheets are all lookin' good, guys. Like what we've got going so far.

Sticks And Stones (A Science Fantasy adventure set in Post-Apoc America)

@OrixiHey, thanks for your interest! To answer your questions:

There's definitely a black market that's thriving just underneath the service. Ranging from the sell of illegal wares to those who simply wish to work outside of the influence of the guilds, there's plenty of business done under the table. There's no set location, exactly. Multiple black market rings can be found in the poorer districts of the city, and several markets have 'known' merchants who circumvent the guild rules and sell items that they shouldn't. So those would be the closest places to actual hubs for that sort of thing.

It depends. Dall's official guards aren't too concerned with fraud, but most of the big guilds have their own private mercenaries that handle illegal dealers. Leg-breakers and other hired goons will either 'disappear' people working around the law, or intimidate them into joining their guild. Official penalties can range from simple fines to jail time, depending on what's being sold. A piece of pottery, for example, might land you a minor fine. But if you're dealing in something like artifacts? They're going to lock you up tight for a good while. Slavery is a fairly typical punishment for that sort of thing. The crown has prisoners 'work' until their 'debt' is paid.

The skeletal remains of skyscrapers are still around in a lot of cities, yup! But it does depend on a number of factors. A few cities like New York suffered a lot more structural damage than others like, say, Kansas City. In general, though, most city ruins are more grown over and abandoned than outright rubble.

Oh no, I'll be giving specific city/state names to let ya'll know where exactly we're at. So you definitely don't have to worry about getting lost.

Sticks And Stones (A Science Fantasy adventure set in Post-Apoc America)

@RangingWolfGeneral technology still hasn't reached that age of development. However, a type of magically-run hand cannon could possibly exist. It'd be a sought after and rare artifact, for sure, but it's within the realm of the imaginable.

Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

@Forgiveness Oh, you misunderstand. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Let's get this party started!

Get it party? 'Cause...DnD...and..Ehm. Yeah.

Sticks And Stones (A Science Fantasy adventure set in Post-Apoc America)

@MepMep@RangingWolf@oakman@FoxFire@SonofJET@Grape@Forgiveness@mercenarius

OOC

The OOC is up!

Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

Character Sheet Template

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Character Name

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Character Summary

Name:(Full Name)
Aliases:(Nicknames, previous names, maiden names, etc.)

Gender:
Age:

Race/Ethnicty:
Place of Origin:

Occupation:

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Character Attributes

Height:
Weight:

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:
Day To Day Attire:

Strengths: (What is your character best at? Where do they excel?)

Weaknesses: (This includes physical, emotional and psychological weaknesses)

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Magic

Spells: (A listing of spells, their descriptions - Only necessary for characters of a magic affinity)

• Spell: Description
• Spell: Description
• Spell: Description

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Possessions

Items Of Note: (Weapons, clothing, armor, trinkets, ect. You don't have to put down everything they carry, just the things you believe are worth noting.)

• Item: Description
• Item: Description
• Item: Description

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History

(Don't feel the need to go too overboard on this. This is more for me to get a feeling for what your character is like and how you write, rather than needing to be the life-time biography of your character.)

Simply hit the RAW button and copy and paste the Template to use it! If you'd like to submit your own unique spin on it, go ahead, but I'd like the basic information I've asked for here to be present. Anything extra earns you a brownie point, though.

Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

Sticks And Stones

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I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.

Albert Enstein

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Science Fantasy - Post-Apocalypse - Adventure - Political Intrigue

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Crumbling towers of rusted steel and broken glass reach high into the heavens, standing as stark sentinels of a bygone age. Chariots with wheels of rubber and chassis of broken iron fill unwalked roads, and cities of impossible construction stretch for miles upon miles- empty of any signs of life. Save, of course, for the Broken. Those terrible creatures of fang and claw that crawl in the darkest corners of the old world, their hives nestled in the tall towers and under the bridges of stone. Only the bravest knights or the most desperate adventurers would dare to invade the lands of the Broken, and a scarce few of them ever return.

No one remembers what destroyed the world. Perhaps it was a war that encompassed every nation and every people, where weapons of incredible destructive power were unleashed, and everything was wiped out. Perhaps disease, unknowable and incurable, spread about the land and wrought the hand of death on all that drew breath. Or perhaps it was the arrival of the Broken that claimed the lives of the Before Men. Or maybe it was none of these things. By some awful chance, it could be a combination of all of them. No one knows for sure. Even the eldest scribes and the most traveled storytellers only know tiny pieces of what the old world was like. Wild tales of fantasy had intermingled with the truth down the ages, deluding what was known with stories of ancient powers and cruel gods.

It's rebirth is similarly surrounded in a veil of mystery. It is known that all life came to an end, but something...something brought it back. Some unknown force reached down into the radiation-ridden muck of the earth and dragged forth the next generation of men. It pressed into their unbeating chests the power that would forever change the world: Magic. A gift barely understood by those that wield it, magic was the only thing that kept man alive. It cut through the darkness, drove off the beasts that nipped at man's heels, gathered people together and allowed them to climb out from the pits of hell that their ancestors had damned them to so long ago.

As man rose up, no longer concerned with monsters and beasts, it turned on itself. Tribes wrestled for dominance over their fellow man. They fought with club and rock, spear and arrow. They made war over resources as simple as food, water and land. It was a time of darkness as brother turned against brother. But through death, through conflict, came life. From the fires of hate came out a race forged stalwart and unbreakable. Mankind was able to recreate, to rebuild what was lost so long ago. War had forced them to erect palisades around their camps. Tents were replaced by permanent structures. In the never ending search for better tools to destroy other tribes, they had rediscovered metalworking and masonry. And as the years passed, permanent settlements began to dot the land once more. They became cities. Soon cities and tribes interwove, putting down sword and spear in favor of trade and friendship- and nations were formed. And from those early nations rose up kingdoms that would stand the test of time.

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OOC Information

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Welcome to Sticks And Stones, a far future Science Fantasy Roleplay set in what was once the United States. I will be your guide in your travels across this strange land wrought with danger, mystery and adventure. Here are a few things you should know about Sticks and Stones before we continue:

-If I were to give this RP a level, it'd be somewhere around High Casual.

-I'm looking for at least four adventurers to take up this quest, though I won't be putting a cap on the number of applicants unless things get absurd. My usual rule of thumb is the more the merrier, and I will more than likely keep the RP open even after we have started. It may be difficult to join in at certain points, but I will do my best to work everyone in.

-I'd like applicants to be in it for the long haul. Posts may come slower than in some other RPs since things like school, work, or other real life obligations can get in the way of writing. Anyone coming in should be prepared for that, and patience for your fellow writers is necessary. With that said, I'd like that we at least stay in contact so that everyone knows we're all still in the game. I ask that a weekly update is given, either in the form of a post or informing us that you won't be able to post this week. How we'll proceed when someone drops or if they have a long absence will be discussed when we come to it, though if you can't be active for a long amount of time your character may be skipped over so that the story can continue moving. A postless RP quickly becomes a dead one, after all.

-Length isn't too important to be, but substance is. All posts should offer something that others can react to or work off of. If your last post could be deleted and it wouldn't affect the scene in the slightest, something's gone wrong. In general one-liners or very short posts that offer little in the way of substance are frowned upon. Don't feel the need to rush out a short post. You've got at least a week to write one, after all!

-When we start out, everyone will be allowed one character. As things move forward this may change, but I would like for us to keep things small and laser focused when we first begin.

-General rules for the site and Roleplaying in general apply, obviously. Basically: smut/+18 situations are mandatory fade to black, treat everyone else involved in the game well, and don't power/meta/god game, and all that jazz. The RP will touch on mature themes like violence, and may go into detail, so just keep that in mind before applying.

-The beginning premise of Sticks And Stones is that we are a party of adventurers brought together by special order of the king. We will be sent into the remains of the city of Dallas in search of still-working artifacts from the old world.

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The Setting/Worldbuilding

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Map of the Known World

The Kingdoms

The known world is split into two parts: the Northland, and the Southland.

The Northland

The Northland encompasses all of what is currently known as the continental United States of America. Most of the major kingdoms and nations exist within this sphere, and they via for control over it's lush and plentiful resources. While there are hundreds of smaller city states and dozens of minor nations, most of the politicking is centered around the five major powers.

Kingdom of Dall

Of the five, the Kingdom of Dall is the oldest, it's lands stretching across what we know as Texas, Oklahoma and New Mexico. It has stood for centuries, it's high walls and unwavering people refusing to break under tides of time. Many a would-be conqueror has attempted to burn Dall to ash, but all have failed. It's current monarch is King Astius the Second. Though his family has not ruled Dall since it's inception, his line is the longest ruling, and for good reason. Astius, much like his ancestors, possesses a great deal of wisdom. He is a master diplomat and negotiator, ruling his people with a golden tongue that causes all to bend the knee before him. Dall is an state of artisans and craftsmen. Their works are strong, robust and long lasting, made with care and skill that no other people could hope to match. Through the trade of these goods, Dall has made itself one of the richest kingdoms in the world.

There exists a heavy class divide in Dall. To own a successful business in Dall, a prospective artisan must sign up for one of the many guilds dotted throughout the kingdom. A guild will take an artisans wares and distribute them to merchants or traders for sale. In turn, the guild takes a sizeable portion of the profits, which goes mostly to the pockets of the Guildmasters or Merchant Lords. The artisans and merchants themselves, despite doing almost all of the work, get pennies in comparison. Those without the skills to work in this system usually end up as Slaves or Bondsmen doing manual labor.

The Kingdom is not known for it's military might. Dall has defended itself all these years by calling upon it's many smaller allies and trade partners for aid in times of need. The number of mercenaries under Dall's banner far outweighs the meager number of 'official' soldiers of the crown, with that small garrison being almost entirely the Royal Guard that acts as the kings personal defense force.

Delphian Empire

Acting as an almost direct inversion of the Kingdom of Dall, the youngest of the nations is also one of the farthest reaching. From the frozen north in New York all the way down to the humid swamps of Louisiana, the Delphian Empire exploded onto the scene less than one hundred years ago. It's ruler, Empress Ramiel Cinders, murdered her aging father in a trial by combat to take the throne. Their 'culture,' if one can call it that, can be summed up with the empire's official motto: 'aut vincere aut mori'- Either to conquer or to die. They seek victory through any means. Life in Delphia is cutthroat and cruel. You either drag yourself up the proverbial social ladder or you allow yourself to fall into poverty.

Exploitation of those beneath oneself in social status is the norm. Murder and thievery is frighteningly common. From the poor beating his neighbor to death for their coin all the way up to the nobleman embezzling funds and having his competition assassinated, Delphian culture uplifts the strong and dashes the weak against the stones. It's armies are massive. Poorly equipped warriors in the thousands flood into unprepared city-states and small nations so that their more powerful superiors can ride in on the backs of the dead and collect the spoils for themselves.

While many lambaste Delphia for it's endless taste for conquest, the Empire is surprisingly lax as an occupier. It's rule is distant and rarely felt. Taxes are light and military service is entirely optional. It's one of the few sovereign states in the known world to have totally outlawed slavery, the nobles seeing it as repugnant for the strong to rely on the weak. Delphians see themselves as liberating the people living under the yolk of harsh monarchies and backwards tribal traditions. There is no other nation where one has the opportunity and the freedom for growth like in Delphia.

Plainsmen Federation

Before Delphia's Second Ramiel Campaign, the largest nation in the Northland was unequivocally the Plainsmen Federation. The region from eastern Montana over to Ohio and down to Utah and Arkansas is known colloquially as the 'Plains,' and the people that live there, the Plainsmen. The Plainsmen were once a diverse and divided people, bickering over farm land, hunting ground and rights to access certain rivers and lakes. Their petty squabbles were interrupted when Empress Ramiel Cinders declared the First Ramiel Campaign, launching her invasion of the Plains. Her forces washed across the eastern Plains, crushing the tribes that did not bend the knee. The Uri, the Arkan, the Owa, and the Wisco tribes saw the armies marching from Delphia and decided that they would not survive unless they fought together. The four tribes united and on the banks of the Mispi River they held back the Delphian tide. Imperial forces were routed by their combined efforts, but only at the cost of many Plainsmen lives.

Though the Empire was defeated, they all knew victory was only temporary. Delphia would return, and in greater numbers, so they had to prepare. A call went out to every tribe in the Plains to gather in Uri, and most answered. There, at the Council of Uri, the Chieftains of the tribes forged a blood pact. They promised- on pain of death- that their tribes would come to the aid of one another whenever they were threatened by an outside force. On that day the Plainsmen Federation was born.

It couldn't last forever. A second military campaign was launched, and this time Delphia's generals were prepared. The unified resistance of the Plainsmen put up an excellent fight, and every battle of the war was extended and bloody. The campaign dragged on for many months, with the Empire managing to tear an inch of land from the Plainsmen at a time. It wasn't until winter hit, and the Empire found itself grinding against Fort Fairfield in modern day Kansas City, that a peace treaty was drafted.

The Plainsmen are best known for their tireless and robust horses, and their archers are regarded as having a near mythical accuracy. The plains have excellent farmland, with almost half of the wheat products consumed by Northerners coming from farms in the plains. Many Plainsmen tribes follow the traditions of old, acting as steppe nomads that travel across the steppes hunting and gathering from the wild land.

Alcatraz Priestdom

Once upon a time the Crown of Forn controlled the area around California, Nevada and Arizona. The region was peaceful, and prosperous. It's leaders fair and compassionate. That was before the Faith Keepers arrived. They came as part of ordinary trade caravans, spreading the word of the 'Faith.' Like a wildfire, their beliefs spread. People were captivated by their miracles and displays of divine might. Their followers were zealous and devout. They saw the 'decadence' of Forn and sought to purge it clean. Violent revolts ensued across the kingdom, and the king's head was chopped from his shoulders while his family was burned to be cleansed by fire for their sins. It was a violent affair that brought about the Priestdom. No one knows if the original orators of the Faith even planned for this. But when the wheels of fate began to turn, there was no stopping them.

The Priestdom founded it's holy fortress on the island of Alcatraz. Guarded by the hordes of Broken that inhabited the nearby urban rubble, none could cross the water without facing the holy pyre that came up from underneath. Not without the guidance of the Ferryman. The Faith Keepers have been in power for two hundred years, and things in Forn have changed. All citizens of the Priestdom are members of the church, paying tithe to the Faith Keepers for protection and eternal salvation. It's one of the safest places in the Northland with Keeper soldiers on every corner, with every loyal citizen willing to string up those that disturb their peace.

Far from an isolationist state, the Priestdom regularly sends out Missionaries in the thousands to spread the Faith to all corners of the known world. They speak of the Father and his holy fire with which he cleanses pure the evils of the world. They tell of prophecies of a second apocalypse if the world does not turn it's heart away from sin. And they glorify the name of the Father of Mankind, who washes all of his loyal children in divine bliss. All who worship the Father bear the mark of the faith: A burning key tattooed proudly upon one's forehead. This symbol is banned in both the Triumvirate and the Delphian Empire; any seen wearing it are turned away or arrested. Many missionaries have a black band that they wear about their heads to hide the symbol when entering areas where those of the Faith are persecuted.

Salyia Triumvirate

For one of the largest nations in the North, the Triumvirate is shrouded in a surprising amount of secrecy and myth. Few know the exact date it was founded, or when the Triumvirs truly came to power. Those with that knowledge all live under the Law of No Tongue, wherein a Wizard from Salyia shall never divulge the mysteries of magic to a 'mundane.' The first records of outsiders contacting the Triumvirate came three and a half centuries ago, when a group of Plainsmen riders traveled further west than they ever had before. They encountered a strange man in a large brimmed hat who spoke not the common tongue. The man was said to speak three words: 'frigus odium pluviae', and the sky tore open, and half of the riders were turned to statues of ice.

Salyia has come a long way since that day. The Triumvirate, while still secretive, has chosen to open it's borders to foreigners. Certain areas are restricted to Triumvirate citizens only for fear of revealing too much, but beyond those high walls, Salyia openly trades and interacts with any who step foot in their beloved home. Salyia is a hub of magical artifacts, their items ranging from weak spell scrolls that help wheat grow to elixirs that can regrow missing limbs in mere hours. Their wares are some of the most sought after items in the world, behind the Old World treasures everyone so desperately craves. Many have marched on Salyia's gates to take it's magic for themselves. None have succeeded in piercing the inner defensive ring.

The Triumvirate is ruled by the three most powerful wizards in the nation, each coming from one of the three major Arcane Academies in the capital city of Olym. These wizards, thanks to their magic, can live upwards of two hundred years. Rumors abound as to whether or not the current Triumvirs are the founders, or if they succeeded the old guard long ago, but the three magicians are obviously ancient and powerful forces to be reckoned with.

Beyond the Northland are the Frozen Wastes, where Canada, Alaska and Greenland once were. There is little in the way of civilized life in the Frozen Wastes, with only a few tribes of hardy nomads daring to risk the arctic frost that has turned away weaker men. Some who live on the borders of the Frozen Wastes whisper of a large gathering of Wastefolk known as the Oathhorde. Supposedly they are made up of giants and beastmen with strange, monstrous appearances and a taste for human flesh, though no one has any real proof of their existence. They're a folk story as far as most of the world is concerned.

Southlands

Little is known about what lies to the south of the Kingdom of Dall. The Riogra River blocks all travel, save for those most prepared for what lies beneath those vile waves. It stretches from coast to coast, sinking deeper into the earth than any river should. Broken lie within it's deceptively calm waters. Those demonic creatures drag all who attempt to travel across it into the depths where they vanish forever, never to be seen again. Only a choice few brave adventurers have ever attempted to cross it, and those that do never come back. Myth says that the Southlands are full of impossible riches and cities made of gold, and that's why none return. Other legends tell of the Southlands as being the true home of the Broken, saying it is a place of vile magic and evil that slaughters all who enter it. No one knows for sure, and all expeditions to prove either myth true have failed spectacularly.

The Broken

What are the Broken? Where did they come from? What purpose do they serve? Why do they attack humans on sight? Why do they occupy old world cities?

No one is sure. Myth and legend abounds. What we do know is that the Broken come in many different shapes and sizes. From massive Hydras, Dragons and Minotaurs to swarms of human-like creatures with stunted gaits and claws that tear through hardened leather. It is not well understood if the Broken are truly alive or not. They're made of a sort of...living metal, in a certain fashion. It's unknown what exactly it is, and Broken bodies are known to rapidly deteriorate once the creature dies, so experimentation is difficult. They seemingly show a level of intelligence in their combat tactics, and have even been seen communicating with one another. But their tongue is...impossible. Like the grating of iron against iron, or the cutting of glass, it's a pain upon the ears. A Broken has never attempted to interact with anything living other than to destroy it the second it enters into Broken territory.

Some have been observed to stand at the edge of their territory, completely still, watching. Others wait in ambush, hiding and waiting for humans or animals to wander into their active hunting grounds. It is unknown what the Broken do when they capture living things, though they have been observed taking prisoners. Some think they're devoured, but none have witnessed the Broken eating. They are known only to inhabit certain regions, such as Old World ruins and the borders along the Southland. Broken appear to be intolerant to the cold, having never been seen anywhere in the Frozen Wastes. During winter, they're known to retreat back into their hives within the glass towers, only exiting once prey draws near to their holds. Because of this, winter has been deemed the best time for adventurers to attempt to plunge into the depths of these ruins.

Attempts to enter these old cities with large fighting forces always end in failure. The Broken are attracted to life, and a large number of living things entering their territory brings them out in hordes. Thousands upon thousands of Broken have responded to mere hundreds of mercenaries marching into their territory. These expeditions always end in mass routes or total slaughters of the expeditions. This is why small teams of skilled warriors are usually used for artifact scavenging, since they attract less Broken toward them than a large group. Certain spells can be used to shroud life signs, making wizards valuable assets for adventuring parties.

Lore Points

We begin our quest in the capital city of the Kingdom of Dall, Praetor City. King Astius II has called for a group of brave adventurers and mercenaries to journey to his Keep in the city, where he will task them with entering the nearby Old World city to search the ruins for treasures of old.

In this new world, treasures of the old one more valuable than gemstones or gold. Finding a working electronic could potentially set one up for life. Of course, most of these surviving treasures have long since been horded up by the rich and powerful. Those that remain are trapped in the looming cities of broken glass and sharp steel, where monsters dwell, guarding the goods of the ancients from those that would see them taken back by man's ancestors.

Advancement has stalled, and technology has been plunged back into the dark ages. Things like indoor plumbing, electricity, and any other number of modern inventions are considered lost to mankind. There are ongoing efforts to obtain old world artifacts by the brightest minds of certain kingdoms- like Dall- who seek to understand and, perhaps one day, even replicate the technologies of old.

The bulk of adventurers and warriors fight with the typical fantasy weapons. Medieval tools like the sword, spear and bow are quite common in the arsenals of the new world. While some old world weapons survived, they are far too rare for any average person to have heard of them, outside of stories about 'sticks that spew fire.' They are more likely to know about magic than they are about guns.

Magic

Magic exists, though it is incredibly rare. Most people are unlikely to possess strong magical abilities, with the few rare exceptions being the wizards, witches and sorcerers that inhabit the world. Magic is tied directly to the incantations used There are certain magics that can be cast using scrolls, but these tend to be rather weak in comparison to the 'real' magic of a wizard. I will likely only be accepting a few magic users into the party for the reasons stated above. Magic behaves in a similar manner to Dungeons and Dragons.

To cast a spell, one must wield a specific, enchanted object (such as a staff or wand) and verbally recite the spell's full name in an incantation. The power of these incantations is directly tied to how loudly the magician speaks the word, with more powerful spells being more exhausting to use than normal ones. Most spell names are in Latin.

There are two sub types of magic: Arcane and Elemental.

Elemental magic is that which encompasses the manipulation or creation of things that already exist. So the elements such as fire, water, earth and air, or things like metal or nature, would fall under this category. Most magic is elemental, so it is the primary weapon of most wizards.

The other type is Arcane, which encompasses things not of this world. This is the more fantastical manipulation of vague magic energies, or powers of a divine nature. Spells that can resurrect or command the dead, that cast bolts of energy, or to open a portal. Arcane spells are usually tied to scrolls, as casting 'full power' arcane magic is a rare ability that most do not possess.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

Character Sheet Template

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Character Name

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Character Summary

Name:(Full Name)
Aliases:(Nicknames, previous names, maiden names, etc.)

Gender:
Age:

Race/Ethnicty:
Place of Origin:

Occupation:

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Character Attributes

Height:
Weight:

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:
Day To Day Attire:

Strengths: (What is your character best at? Where do they excel?)

Weaknesses: (This includes physical, emotional and psychological weaknesses)

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Magic

Spells: (A listing of spells, their descriptions - Only necessary for characters of a magic affinity)

• Spell: Description
• Spell: Description
• Spell: Description

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Possessions

Items Of Note: (Weapons, clothing, armor, trinkets, ect. You don't have to put down everything they carry, just the things you believe are worth noting.)

• Item: Description
• Item: Description
• Item: Description

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History

(Don't feel the need to go too overboard on this. This is more for me to get a feeling for what your character is like and how you write, rather than needing to be the life-time biography of your character.)

No Turning Back - Surving the Abyss

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LONG LIVE MARS

CDR. ROSS
VITAE LOG #1
21st April, 2216
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This was the end.

It had been a long time coming. Years of blood, sweat and tears had been poured into every inch of the twelve massive arks that now embodied the last hope of all of humanity. The whole time, man had kept an eye to the heavens, praying that the enemy did not come. Praying that they would be able to finish the Genesis Project before they arrived. Their prayers fell on the ears of a deaf god, for Devastation was upon them. Riding in chariots of living flesh, that spewed nuclear hellfire from their gaping maws, came the enemy. Some believed them to be demons. Monstrous creatures from beyond the veil of the natural world, coming to reap the souls of men. Others thought they were a force of the divine. They believed that man had committed a grave sin when it first sparked to life the wormholes that brought the Devastators upon them. This was, supposedly, their punishment.

Total and complete extermination.

The enemy had gathered at their gates. Ships of impossible design numbering in the thousands were descending on Mars even then. Even as Commander Elijah Ross waited with baited breath for the Vitae to launch, they came. Holographic view screens floated in the air before the commander, drawing his gaze between them.

Each one showed something different. A Federation news cast detailing the launch of the Arks was playing to his far left. On it, a beautiful looking young woman was trying to deliver her script between her broken sobs. Opposite that was a live feed from Mars orbit. Every last military vessel humanity had to offer had joined together above Ross's home. Millions of sailors and Corpsmen manned thousands of warships, waiting with hate in their hearts and fear in their souls for the monsters that would tear them all to shreds.

Directly in front of Elijah was a cast of High Admiral Constantine and the twelve Ark commanders as he delivered the last words any of them would hear from the man. A hero in every sense of the word, Roland was the perfect choice to lead the fight against the Devastators. He was the only choice. Men would die in the millions for him. As Ross sat in the bridge of the Nyx, he couldn't help but think he should be one of those men. He should've been sitting at the helm of a frigate alongside the rest of the Martian Unity fleet.

Elijah should be dying to protect his home.

He took in a sharp inhale, air rushing into his lungs through the respirator he wore. The heavy duty appliance was modulated to the Prometheus exoskeleton he wore. Elijah's shoulders shuddered with each breath. The weight of his assisted breathing device only compounding with the heavy sense of guilt he felt for abandoning his people. His planet would die. Billions along with it. 'What gives me the right?' Ross kept asking himself. 'Why in God's name do I get to live while everyone else...'

He could only imagine how many more deserving people there were that were trapped on his homeworld. He could practically see them in his mind. Millions of children with terror in their eyes as they clung to their mothers and fathers in Martian disaster bunkers, wondering what will become of them. There were billions of others who could be sitting where he was. Younger men with families of their own who were healthier and stronger than he. Why couldn't Ross take the place of some other captain in the fleet? Some bright eyed, hopeful commander who would live for sixty more years to lead the remnants of humanity.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. They were all going to fucking die. Every last person on Earth, Mars and beyond that wasn't on one of the arks was going to be slaughtered.

The holographic screens before him were sent away with a swipe of his hand. Elijah motioned, bringing up a televised feed on Arcadia. He had grown up in those streets. He had played on them, worked on them. And now, years later, they'd be filled with the bodies of good Martian men and women who deserved better. "God damn it." Ross rasped, his hands clutched together in his lap. They were clammy with sweat. Every inch of his body ached with an overwhelming desire to act. Elijah wanted to command his crew to disengage the locks, to force open the hangar so that they could fly out and join the fight. It was a stupid desire. Ross had his duty, and he could not- would not- abandon his post. To do so would be to spit in the face of every other man that had been doomed to die and not even given the chance to climb aboard the arks.

No, Elijah had to go through with this. He had to give this mission his all. Thus was his duty to mankind. His duty to the Martian Unity.

Thus, was his duty to Mars.

With how large the Vitae was, Elijah could barely feel the engines kick-starting. He was only made aware when his engineering officer called it out. The man's voice had shaken as he spoke those few words. Everyone else on the bridge remained dead silent, save for the quiet sobbing of one of the petty officers. Her family had been denied a place aboard the Arks. There just wasn't enough room.

What Elijah wouldn't give for that officer's husband to be standing in his place.

Ross kept his eyes on the view screen. He watched an empty Arcadia, listening to the klaxons play through the dusty streets for no one but him to hear. Everyone had been move down to the shelters. It only offered the illusion of safety. The enemy wouldn't be stopped by a few hundred feet of rock. No underground bunker would help stop this. This was the end for them.

The Engineering Officer pulled something up on the main screen. Ross tore his eyes away from his home, looking up to the stars. He had brought up the feed pointed toward the Eye of Thea. That was their last hope. A portal to God knows where. Behind that swirling eye lay an unknown host of obstacles that stood between them and survival. A long journey lay ahead of them. It was entirely possible that each and every Genesis Ark would be destroyed before they found a suitable planet for colonization. This voyage could very well be the last effort to touch the sky for a species that was being dragged kicking and screaming into the mouth of hell.

With tears in his eyes, the old war dog looked back to Arcadia. Barren, empty, and facing it's end. Ross flipped the screen back to the fleet in orbit, watching a squadron of fighters flash by the camera as they made their way to the front. "Give 'em hell, boys." Elijah growled. Those were the final words he spoke as he shut down his personal screens. His gaze moved back up to the Eye of Thea.

Though this was the end for his home, it was also the beginning of their journey. The beginning of hope.

"Long live Mars."

Superboy's Shitty Characters

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LONG LIVE MARS

CDR. ROSS
VITAE LOG #1
21st April, 2216
♪♪♪

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This was the end.

It had been a long time coming. Years of blood, sweat and tears had been poured into every inch of the twelve massive arks that now embodied the last hope of all of humanity. The whole time, man had kept an eye to the heavens, praying that the enemy did not come. Praying that they would be able to finish the Genesis Project before they arrived. Their prayers fell on the ears of a deaf god, for Devastation was upon them. Riding in chariots of living flesh, that spewed nuclear hellfire from their gaping maws, came the enemy. Some believed them to be demons. Monstrous creatures from beyond the veil of the natural world, coming to reap the souls of men. Others thought they were a force of the divine. They believed that man had committed a grave sin when it first sparked to life the wormholes that brought the Devastators upon them. This was, supposedly, their punishment.

Total and complete extermination.

The enemy had gathered at their gates. Ships of impossible design numbering in the thousands were descending on Mars even then. Even as Commander Elijah Ross waited with baited breath for the Vitae to launch, they came. Holographic view screens floated in the air before the commander, drawing his gaze between them.

Each one showed something different. A Federation news cast detailing the launch of the Arks was playing to his far left. On it, a beautiful looking young woman was trying to deliver her script between her broken sobs. Opposite that was a live feed from Mars orbit. Every last military vessel humanity had to offer had joined together above Ross's home. Millions of sailors and Corpsmen manned thousands of warships, waiting with hate in their hearts and fear in their souls for the monsters that would tear them all to shreds.

Directly in front of Elijah was a cast of High Admiral Constantine and the twelve Ark commanders as he delivered the last words any of them would hear from the man. A hero in every sense of the word, Roland was the perfect choice to lead the fight against the Devastators. He was the only choice. Men would die in the millions for him. As Ross sat in the bridge of the Nyx, he couldn't help but think he should be one of those men. He should've been sitting at the helm of a frigate alongside the rest of the Martian Unity fleet.

Elijah should be dying to protect his home.

He took in a sharp inhale, air rushing into his lungs through the respirator he wore. The heavy duty appliance was modulated to the Prometheus exoskeleton he wore. Elijah's shoulders shuddered with each breath. The weight of his assisted breathing device only compounding with the heavy sense of guilt he felt for abandoning his people. His planet would die. Billions along with it. 'What gives me the right?' Ross kept asking himself. 'Why in God's name do I get to live while everyone else...'

He could only imagine how many more deserving people there were that were trapped on his homeworld. He could practically see them in his mind. Millions of children with terror in their eyes as they clung to their mothers and fathers in Martian disaster bunkers, wondering what will become of them. There were billions of others who could be sitting where he was. Younger men with families of their own who were healthier and stronger than he. Why couldn't Ross take the place of some other captain in the fleet? Some bright eyed, hopeful commander who would live for sixty more years to lead the remnants of humanity.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. They were all going to fucking die. Every last person on Earth, Mars and beyond that wasn't on one of the arks was going to be slaughtered.

The holographic screens before him were sent away with a swipe of his hand. Elijah motioned, bringing up a televised feed on Arcadia. He had grown up in those streets. He had played on them, worked on them. And now, years later, they'd be filled with the bodies of good Martian men and women who deserved better. "God damn it." Ross rasped, his hands clutched together in his lap. They were clammy with sweat. Every inch of his body ached with an overwhelming desire to act. Elijah wanted to command his crew to disengage the locks, to force open the hangar so that they could fly out and join the fight. It was a stupid desire. Ross had his duty, and he could not- would not- abandon his post. To do so would be to spit in the face of every other man that had been doomed to die and not even given the chance to climb aboard the arks.

No, Elijah had to go through with this. He had to give this mission his all. Thus was his duty to mankind. His duty to the Martian Unity.

Thus, was his duty to Mars.

With how large the Vitae was, Elijah could barely feel the engines kick-starting. He was only made aware when his engineering officer called it out. The man's voice had shaken as he spoke those few words. Everyone else on the bridge remained dead silent, save for the quiet sobbing of one of the petty officers. Her family had been denied a place aboard the Arks. There just wasn't enough room.

What Elijah wouldn't give for that officer's husband to be standing in his place.

Ross kept his eyes on the view screen. He watched an empty Arcadia, listening to the klaxons play through the dusty streets for no one but him to hear. Everyone had been move down to the shelters. It only offered the illusion of safety. The enemy wouldn't be stopped by a few hundred feet of rock. No underground bunker would help stop this. This was the end for them.

The Engineering Officer pulled something up on the main screen. Ross tore his eyes away from his home, looking up to the stars. He had brought up the feed pointed toward the Eye of Thea. That was their last hope. A portal to God knows where. Behind that swirling eye lay an unknown host of obstacles that stood between them and survival. A long journey lay ahead of them. It was entirely possible that each and every Genesis Ark would be destroyed before they found a suitable planet for colonization. This voyage could very well be the last effort to touch the sky for a species that was being dragged kicking and screaming into the mouth of hell.

With tears in his eyes, the old war dog looked back to Arcadia. Barren, empty, and facing it's end. Ross flipped the screen back to the fleet in orbit, watching a squadron of fighters flash by the camera as they made their way to the front. "Give 'em hell, boys." Elijah growled. Those were the final words he spoke as he shut down his personal screens. His gaze moved back up to the Eye of Thea.

Though this was the end for his home, it was also the beginning of their journey. The beginning of hope.

"Long live Mars."