Supermaxx

No Turning Back - Surving the Abyss

---

INHALE

CDR. ROSS
VITAE LOG #2
Morning, 2221
♪♪♪

---

It had been five, long years since anyone aboard the Vitae had stepped foot on solid ground. With Earth and Mars reduced to ash, all they had left to call home were the claustrophobic and colorless halls of the Genesis Ark. For many, this was a difficult thing to adjust to. Earthers were used to fields of green stretching for miles upon miles in every direction. Martians found their comfort in the endless deserts of twisting dust storms and crimson rock. To know that they might never see land like that again...it tended to drive people mad.

Elijah was not one of those people. He had spent almost every day of his life in the cramped hull of many a lifeless warship. He had grown accustomed to falling asleep to the sound of a purring engine. He was used to seeing nothing more than composite steel and blinking consoles for months on end. Yet still, though Ross was a career Serviceman, he had found the last five years surprisingly taxing. He no longer had a home to return to. There would be no crowd of friends and family awaiting him when he returned from a tour. There would be no quiet celebratory dinner with his aging parents, or night of drunken foolishness with his cousins. They, along with the rest of Mars, were gone. And that was something Ross still had trouble coping with.

Coming here helped.

Ross sat upon an old fashioned park bench made from wrought iron and painted sheer black. A breeze blew gently across his face, passing through the graying beard Elijah had neglected to remove. His mother had always detested facial hair, so he remained clean shaven for her sake. The gesture had lost it's meaning five years ago.

Eden reminded him of a park he used to visit back when he was a boy. He and his friends would race one another around the gardens in their motorbikes. The security officer would always yell at them whenever they got going too fast, but Elijah never listened. The grass was greener here than it was in the Martian park. The trees grew taller, too. Healthier trees and the cutting edge technology involved in keeping Eden running made the air all the sharper than it was back home.

The commander wished he could still enjoy it.

Elijah had always taken air for granted. Oxygen was something they had in abundance, after all; no one worried about breathing while they were young and healthy. Ross couldn't have known how much he missed being able to take a deep breath without a searing pain filling his side.

Almost as if on cue, Ross went to take a breath, only for a sputtering cough to follow. "Damn it." He rasped quietly. A reluctant hand reached up to tap a small button on his neck. The armored piece began to fold out, extending around his jawline and mouth until it snapped into place, both sides connecting to form the respirator that Elijah required to breathe. The mouthpiece itself was transparent, per Elijah's request- he hated how the machine obscured his features. Ross was not the kind of man to hide behind a mask.

The artificially enhanced air forced into his mouth with every puff on the respirator felt cold and hollow. It was as lifeless as the walls of any warship. Elijah despised not being able to breathe real air. He despised needing to be hooked up to some machine. He felt lesser for it. Yet all of all of the options presented to him, this was the only one Ross could take that didn't include dying. Elijah would never give up his pride as a Martian and as a man to force some unnatural cybernetic into his body. Some lab-grown pair of new lungs wouldn't do either. Even if his world was dead Elijah would never give up on it's beliefs. Ross would die before he betrayed Mars's memory.

Though Eden held a special place in Elijah's heart, he knew that it wouldn't for long. He came here because it gave him a reminder of what was. But Admiral Locke's call earlier that morning had changed that- or, it would soon, at any rate. Ross looked on at the tree before him, a smile forming underneath his respirator at the sight of it's blooming flowers. This particular tree was from Conglomerate territory on earth, if he had his facts right. It was gorgeous- probably the prettiest thing Nagasaki ever produced.

If Locke was right, this might be the last time Ross would ever need to visit Eden to be reminded of what land looked like. Elijah didn't believe his ears when he first heard the news. After five years of unending space travel, Elijah had resigned himself to it- he had expected to die never seeing anything other than a bulkhead and the blacks stretch of space ever again.

'A habitable world...'

It was the first of it's kind they had come across after heading through the Eye, and Ross had the privilege and the honor of gathering a suitable team for their first away mission off the Vitae. With the press of a button he opened the holographic display from his personal device, a list of names appearing before his eyes. This was his sacred duty. To humanity, to Mars- to himself.

N.O.A.H had prepared a list of candidates for Elijah, dividing it up by occupation and availability. There were close to fifteen thousand people awake, and this list only contained a fraction of them. Yet there were hundreds upon hundreds of names here. Almost all of them were qualified for this job. It was up to Ross to determine who was the best choice for this. "I suppose I should start with the science team." They needed them to work with the survey drones to determine just how habitable the world really was. "Let's see, here..." Ross muttered to himself, flicking through the various pages of names.

As he began to flag potentially suitable candidates, a funny little thought entered Eli's mind that made him smile.

'I wonder what the air tastes like down there..'

Superboy's Shitty Characters

---

INHALE

CDR. ROSS
VITAE LOG #2
Morning, 2221
♪♪♪

---

It had been five, long years since anyone aboard the Vitae had stepped foot on solid ground. With Earth and Mars reduced to ash, all they had left to call home were the claustrophobic and colorless halls of the Genesis Ark. For many, this was a difficult thing to adjust to. Earthers were used to fields of green stretching for miles upon miles in every direction. Martians found their comfort in the endless deserts of twisting dust storms and crimson rock. To know that they might never see land like that again...it tended to drive people mad.

Elijah was not one of those people. He had spent almost every day of his life in the cramped hull of many a lifeless warship. He had grown accustomed to falling asleep to the sound of a purring engine. He was used to seeing nothing more than composite steel and blinking consoles for months on end. Yet still, though Ross was a career Serviceman, he had found the last five years surprisingly taxing. He no longer had a home to return to. There would be no crowd of friends and family awaiting him when he returned from a tour. There would be no quiet celebratory dinner with his aging parents, or night of drunken foolishness with his cousins. They, along with the rest of Mars, were gone. And that was something Ross still had trouble coping with.

Coming here helped.

Ross sat upon an old fashioned park bench made from wrought iron and painted sheer black. A breeze blew gently across his face, passing through the graying beard Elijah had neglected to remove. His mother had always detested facial hair, so he remained clean shaven for her sake. The gesture had lost it's meaning five years ago.

Eden reminded him of a park he used to visit back when he was a boy. He and his friends would race one another around the gardens in their motorbikes. The security officer would always yell at them whenever they got going too fast, but Elijah never listened. The grass was greener here than it was in the Martian park. The trees grew taller, too. Healthier trees and the cutting edge technology involved in keeping Eden running made the air all the sharper than it was back home.

The commander wished he could still enjoy it.

Elijah had always taken air for granted. Oxygen was something they had in abundance, after all; no one worried about breathing while they were young and healthy. Ross couldn't have known how much he missed being able to take a deep breath without a searing pain filling his side.

Almost as if on cue, Ross went to take a breath, only for a sputtering cough to follow. "Damn it." He rasped quietly. A reluctant hand reached up to tap a small button on his neck. The armored piece began to fold out, extending around his jawline and mouth until it snapped into place, both sides connecting to form the respirator that Elijah required to breathe. The mouthpiece itself was transparent, per Elijah's request- he hated how the machine obscured his features. Ross was not the kind of man to hide behind a mask.

The artificially enhanced air forced into his mouth with every puff on the respirator felt cold and hollow. It was as lifeless as the walls of any warship. Elijah despised not being able to breathe real air. He despised needing to be hooked up to some machine. He felt lesser for it. Yet all of all of the options presented to him, this was the only one Ross could take that didn't include dying. Elijah would never give up his pride as a Martian and as a man to force some unnatural cybernetic into his body. Some lab-grown pair of new lungs wouldn't do either. Even if his world was dead Elijah would never give up on it's beliefs. Ross would die before he betrayed Mars's memory.

Though Eden held a special place in Elijah's heart, he knew that it wouldn't for long. He came here because it gave him a reminder of what was. But Admiral Locke's call earlier that morning had changed that- or, it would soon, at any rate. Ross looked on at the tree before him, a smile forming underneath his respirator at the sight of it's blooming flowers. This particular tree was from Conglomerate territory on earth, if he had his facts right. It was gorgeous- probably the prettiest thing Nagasaki ever produced.

If Locke was right, this might be the last time Ross would ever need to visit Eden to be reminded of what land looked like. Elijah didn't believe his ears when he first heard the news. After five years of unending space travel, Elijah had resigned himself to it- he had expected to die never seeing anything other than a bulkhead and the blacks stretch of space ever again.

'A habitable world...'

It was the first of it's kind they had come across after heading through the Eye, and Ross had the privilege and the honor of gathering a suitable team for their first away mission off the Vitae. With the press of a button he opened the holographic display from his personal device, a list of names appearing before his eyes. This was his sacred duty. To humanity, to Mars- to himself.

N.O.A.H had prepared a list of candidates for Elijah, dividing it up by occupation and availability. There were close to fifteen thousand people awake, and this list only contained a fraction of them. Yet there were hundreds upon hundreds of names here. Almost all of them were qualified for this job. It was up to Ross to determine who was the best choice for this. "I suppose I should start with the science team." They needed them to work with the survey drones to determine just how habitable the world really was. "Let's see, here..." Ross muttered to himself, flicking through the various pages of names.

As he began to flag potentially suitable candidates, a funny little thought entered Eli's mind that made him smile.

'I wonder what the air tastes like down there..'

No Turning Back - Surving the Abyss

My murder senses are tingling.

What Are You Listening To?

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

@SonofJET@Grape@Sightseer@PrettyWings@Rebirth@ShwiggityShwah@Aeonumbra@Forgiveness@Sofaking Fancy@RangingWolf@DeadDrop@mercenarius@Orixi

Sorry for the wait, but there ya go!

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

---

Praetor City, Dall
Winter - 941 F.M (Finis Mortem)
[ ♫ ]

---

Dark clouds filled the sky like a gloomy afterthought. Weak rays of sunlight peaked through the breaks in the gray, filling the frozen streets of Praetor City with a much needed light. Ice clung to the numerous high towers that loomed overhead, the chilling wrath of some unseen god wrapping tightly about them. Flakes of ice crystals were carried down on the biting wind, joining the layers of white that covered every inch of the city proper. Though the constant foot traffic on the busier streets had managed to carve a rough path through the inches-deep snow, travel was still made obnoxiously difficult by winter's frost.

Despite the weather, Praetor was as active as ever. It's markets were filled to the brim with citizens wrapped in their warmest cloaks, rushing to purchase what food and goods they could to survive the early winter. Merchants still packed their wagons full of furs, winter wheat and other trade goods, planning to ride from Praetor City to the nearby villages that so desperately needed their wares. And even in the winter the local drunks and ne'er-do-wells needed to piss away what little coin they had on cheap beer, stale pastries and other, less savory forms of pleasure.

Far from the dirty and grimy masses of serfs, a near panic had set in at the king's palace. Behind it's smooth walls of glistening granite and it's towers that touched the very heavens, officials and knights were rushing about between it's golden halls to complete their own tasks. With the unexpected coming of an early winter came many a duty that needed to be fulfilled. Defenses needed to be shored up, messages needed to be sent off, the supplies needed to be checked and double-checked to make sure they would last until the coming of summer. And, most importantly, the artifact hunts needed to be arranged.

Hidden away in a tiny study stuffed full of useless trinkets and piles upon piles of scrolls, the castle steward frantically attempted to finish the final touches on his fiftieth summons of the day. Frederick Lethino's quill glided across the parchment like a ship across the sea, a trail of black ink left behind with every precise mark, jot and tittle. Lethino finished the final line, a sigh escaping his thin lips as he returned the quill to it's stand. 'At last.' He thought. Dark bags hung like men at the gallows underneath his uninteresting eyes. The words on the page were all but blending together after staring at paper after paper after paper. It was only through sheer force of will that the steward had managed to complete this final one.

Spindly, wrinkled fingers reached for the stamp sat on the desktop before him. Lethino planted the seal of the king on the scroll, finalizing it's authenticity. Now it was ready to be rolled up and sent away with one of the messenger boys. Frederick rose from his chair, his movements sluggish and slow. Even indoors, the coolness of the winter air were hell upon his bones. Taking up the scroll, the steward shuffled forth from his office. Massive windows that reached greater heights than some of the buildings in the city allowed the fleeting rays of the sun to filter into the gold-wrapped and pearly white hallways of the palace. It was a welcome difference from the low candle light that Lethino was used to working in. 'I must hurry. They await my arrival.' He reminded himself, moving faster to his destination. First he had to drop off the scroll at the messenger's office, then he could be on his way toward his real appointment. Frederick would be cutting it close; he only hoped that the hunters would behave themselves while they waited.

After several minutes, Lethino eventually reached the bottom floor of the castle. He pressed through the grandiose entrance hall, the guards allowing him to pass without hassle- that balding head and frizzled beard were all the identification they needed for the king's royal steward. He stopped before the heavy oaken doors that shielded the keep from invader and starving commoner alike. 'Alright, Lethino. You have done this many times before.' He reminded himself, as he had every time prior to this one.

Lethino couldn't help that nervous tickle in his rib cage before little things like this- that intangible worry that he would flub his delivery, or that they would be unreceptive to his words. He swallowed it down, clearing his throat as he placed his hands upon the iron handles of the gateway. Frederick threw them open, their great weight causing his meager arms to yearn for respite. The frozen wind immediately tasted his rosy cheeks, that force assisting in throwing the doors open the rest of the way.

Frederick took a single step out of the threshold, his arms thrown wide in a bombastic display. "Welcome to Praetor Keep, mighty adventurers!" Lethino shouted, a wily smile on his face as he turned to look at the host of treasure hunters and noble knights that were-

"Wait." Lethino's face fell in confusion. "W-where the devil are they?!" He spun his head about, moving further out into the courtyard. It was empty! Not a single soul stood out in the blistering wind or frozen, icy snow. "Oh, gods..." Frederick stepped back into the hall, his panicked gaze searching for the first of the guardsmen that he could find. "You there, soldier!" The royal steward called out. The guard looked quizzically over at the nobleman. "How many bells have sounded?"

He stood quietly for a moment, a metal-encased hand moving up to touch the bottom of his chin. "Uh..'bout three, I reckon."

"Three?!" Lethino screamed. He thought his heart was going to burst. "By the gods, I'm late! I was late!" He had worked right through the meeting and hadn't even heard the third bell sound. How long had it been since then? He must've left them out in the cold for so long that they all just left! The steward tied up his cloak and threw the hood over his head, rushing back out into the cold. He raced through the courtyard and shout through the raised gate, his feet sliding to a halt in the open street.

"Has anyone seen my adventurers?!"

Superboy's Shitty Characters

---

Praetor City, Dall
Winter - 941 F.M (Finis Mortem)
[ ♫ ]

---

Dark clouds filled the sky like a gloomy afterthought. Weak rays of sunlight peaked through the breaks in the gray, filling the frozen streets of Praetor City with a much needed light. Ice clung to the numerous high towers that loomed overhead, the chilling wrath of some unseen god wrapping tightly about them. Flakes of ice crystals were carried down on the biting wind, joining the layers of white that covered every inch of the city proper. Though the constant foot traffic on the busier streets had managed to carve a rough path through the inches-deep snow, travel was still made obnoxiously difficult by winter's frost.

Despite the weather, Praetor was as active as ever. It's markets were filled to the brim with citizens wrapped in their warmest cloaks, rushing to purchase what food and goods they could to survive the early winter. Merchants still packed their wagons full of furs, winter wheat and other trade goods, planning to ride from Praetor City to the nearby villages that so desperately needed their wares. And even in the winter the local drunks and ne'er-do-wells needed to piss away what little coin they had on cheap beer, stale pastries and other, less savory forms of pleasure.

Far from the dirty and grimy masses of serfs, a near panic had set in at the king's palace. Behind it's smooth walls of glistening granite and it's towers that touched the very heavens, officials and knights were rushing about between it's golden halls to complete their own tasks. With the unexpected coming of an early winter came many a duty that needed to be fulfilled. Defenses needed to be shored up, messages needed to be sent off, the supplies needed to be checked and double-checked to make sure they would last until the coming of summer. And, most importantly, the artifact hunts needed to be arranged.

Hidden away in a tiny study stuffed full of useless trinkets and piles upon piles of scrolls, the castle steward frantically attempted to finish the final touches on his fiftieth summons of the day. Frederick Lethino's quill glided across the parchment like a ship across the sea, a trail of black ink left behind with every precise mark, jot and tittle. Lethino finished the final line, a sigh escaping his thin lips as he returned the quill to it's stand. 'At last.' He thought. Dark bags hung like men at the gallows underneath his uninteresting eyes. The words on the page were all but blending together after staring at paper after paper after paper. It was only through sheer force of will that the steward had managed to complete this final one.

Spindly, wrinkled fingers reached for the stamp sat on the desktop before him. Lethino planted the seal of the king on the scroll, finalizing it's authenticity. Now it was ready to be rolled up and sent away with one of the messenger boys. Frederick rose from his chair, his movements sluggish and slow. Even indoors, the coolness of the winter air were hell upon his bones. Taking up the scroll, the steward shuffled forth from his office. Massive windows that reached greater heights than some of the buildings in the city allowed the fleeting rays of the sun to filter into the gold-wrapped and pearly white hallways of the palace. It was a welcome difference from the low candle light that Lethino was used to working in. 'I must hurry. They await my arrival.' He reminded himself, moving faster to his destination. First he had to drop off the scroll at the messenger's office, then he could be on his way toward his real appointment. Frederick would be cutting it close; he only hoped that the hunters would behave themselves while they waited.

After several minutes, Lethino eventually reached the bottom floor of the castle. He pressed through the grandiose entrance hall, the guards allowing him to pass without hassle- that balding head and frizzled beard were all the identification they needed for the king's royal steward. He stopped before the heavy oaken doors that shielded the keep from invader and starving commoner alike. 'Alright, Lethino. You have done this many times before.' He reminded himself, as he had every time prior to this one.

Lethino couldn't help that nervous tickle in his rib cage before little things like this- that intangible worry that he would flub his delivery, or that they would be unreceptive to his words. He swallowed it down, clearing his throat as he placed his hands upon the iron handles of the gateway. Frederick threw them open, their great weight causing his meager arms to yearn for respite. The frozen wind immediately tasted his rosy cheeks, that force assisting in throwing the doors open the rest of the way.

Frederick took a single step out of the threshold, his arms thrown wide in a bombastic display. "Welcome to Praetor Keep, mighty adventurers!" Lethino shouted, a wily smile on his face as he turned to look at the host of treasure hunters and noble knights that were-

"Wait." Lethino's face fell in confusion. "W-where the devil are they?!" He spun his head about, moving further out into the courtyard. It was empty! Not a single soul stood out in the blistering wind or frozen, icy snow. "Oh, gods..." Frederick stepped back into the hall, his panicked gaze searching for the first of the guardsmen that he could find. "You there, soldier!" The royal steward called out. The guard looked quizzically over at the nobleman. "How many bells have sounded?"

He stood quietly for a moment, a metal-encased hand moving up to touch the bottom of his chin. "Uh..'bout three, I reckon."

"Three?!" Lethino screamed. He thought his heart was going to burst. "By the gods, I'm late! I was late!" He had worked right through the meeting and hadn't even heard the third bell sound. How long had it been since then? He must've left them out in the cold for so long that they all just left! The steward tied up his cloak and threw the hood over his head, rushing back out into the cold. He raced through the courtyard and shout through the raised gate, his feet sliding to a halt in the open street.

"Has anyone seen my adventurers?!"

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

@Grape Some time between today and Saturday.

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

@PrettyWings Yeup, looks good! Feel free to move Daphne over to the Character Tab.

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

@PrettyWings Aight, sounds neato.

Speaking of CSes, @Rebirth's character was accepted through PMs earlier after a bit of discussion.