thewizardguy

Areapolis - City of Wonders! (Always Open)

Hmm.... I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this. Lol. Hopefully, it's somewhere interesting.

Areapolis - City of Wonders! (Always Open)

Most who were granted the Gift of magic chose to use it flashily. Having lived without magic, they wished to display their new capabilities at their fullest. A popular technique was to light your sword with eldritch flame. They didn't seem to realize that, on the whole, if you had stabbed something, the fire wasn't going to do much extra. Fireballs, beams of eldritch energy, grasping claws conjured from the darkness, or great bursts of burning light. Amusingly enough, the Infinite Empire's army had transformed into some form of terrifyingly lethal light show, with all the fire, lasers, and glowing orbs of wrath. Few truly recognized the sheer power not of simply applying strength, but applying it where it was needed. To control one's Gift with subtle precision, to only do as much as was needed for the situation. Alice closed her ink black eyes, focusing. She could feel the humming magic moving through her, a miracle delivered directly from Tazyn, to guide His followers. And as His scheme unfolded before her mind, she simply guided, placing the power where it was needed, with the precision and skill necessary for a Prophet. Even though even she could not yet see the end of this glorious plan, her faith was strong. For her God was with her, guiding her every action, her every thought. ------------------------------ Soaring through the clouds, propelled at seemingly impossible speeds for it's great mass, the wyvern observed the city below it. As a being born from magic, it could feel the magic far below, and even it's primitive animal instincts recognized the danger. There was, of course, far easier prey to hunt, the kind of prey that didn't throw fireballs, and whom's claws were not made of iron. And yet, even as it's great eyes flashed briefly black, it started angling downward. For below, it could suddenly smell the tastiest of prey. It knew that below was a buffet, something it had never tasted before. With the promise of food on it's tongue, the beast descended on the Tall, townsfolk and soldier alike fleeing from the area, mothers carrying children, children carrying smaller children. Those who could not walk, and were not carried, simply crawled, or cried in terror, as they beheld the beast, the Wyvern. A majestic beast, it's scales shining golden in the light of the afternoon sun, it's eyes of bright red glaring down, selecting it's prey, and identifying the dangerous ones. It's two wings even now were unfurled, a pair of long hooked claws at the end of each, aiding to hold it in place. It's tail extended fair backwards, growing thin, until it ended into a great barbed point, containing an arcane toxin unique to Wyvern-kind. Great talons crashed through the feeble wooden roof of the slum it had chosen to land on, as it beat it's wings to prevent itself from falling into the water. The Wyvern threw it's head into the air, stretching it's neck, fanged jaws parting as it unleashed a call, like an abominable mixture between the howl of a wolf and the shriek of a banshee, a hundredfold louder. And yet, even as hundreds fled the area, a single figure came stalking towards the dragon, clad in great armor, and bearing one of the legendary Swords of the North. Turning it's great head, the beast observed the tall humanoid, teeth bared, turning to face this new threat. ------------- Throughout the city, the word had spread, and with it a wind of terror, partly natural, and partly magical in nature. An enhanced panic, as people fled the area en masse, the Royal Guard retreating to guard the Noble Houses, the Mage Guild forming a great shield, the Priests of Ashyr activating the great metal golems that guarded their gates, massive bronze swords held at the ready. And yet, across the city, the doors to taverns are kicked over, many proceeding to skid over the floor. Figures of all races, scarred by a hundred battles, stepped out from the darkness. Men with armor forged from the bones of Manticors, Elves whom's bows had received the blessings of forgotten Gods, great mages wielding eldritch fires of pure might. Adventurers, those brave souls who had always been in abundance in a world of such dangers as Wyverns. Problem solvers, monster hunters, dungeon delvers, grave robbers, and thrill seekers, those who had seen the maw of the world, and survived it. And as each reached for their blades, a wave of dark magic washed through them. Each would wish for the bounty on the dragon's head, and each would wish it for themselves. Greed, pride, wrath..... they burned freely in the eyes of those who only moments before had rallied in the face of danger. And as spells flew, and swords thrust, it was not the dragon that was their target. Yet, it was the most capable warriors of the land, slaying one another in cold blood. Those mages and priests who had felt the magic sweep through the city could only gaze on in abject horror as the bloodshed commenced. --------------------- Upon the Throne of Stars, sat a small girl, a smile on her face. Soon, the authorities of this city would be toppled, and the prophecies of her master would come to pass. For it took only the smallest push to set the world's end in motion, if only one knew where to press. And Areopolis, the commercial and religious center of most of the civilized world, was the perfect place to begin.

The Day We Woke Up

Mia blinked. Not only had her prey simply ignored her broken arm, but some random fellow had shown up out of nowhere. Now, it was not the fact that he had teleported that surprised her, but the fact that someone had willingly entered armsreach to talk to her. She was pretty sure that she'd discouraged anyone from doing that with the whole arm-breaking thing. Did he think she wouldn't break his arm? That she wasn't dangerous enough? There wasn't even a hint of fear! Shaking with anger, Mia balled her fists. This wasn't fun at all. What was the point if nobody was going to be scared of her? With a blur she was next to the mysterious man, her fingernails thrust forward through his skull, deep into his brain. Wait.... that had been surprisingly little resistance. Wide-eyed, Mia moved her hand around, as it moved through the strange figure as if he wasn't there at all. 'What the Hell?'

The Metahuman Revolution

Well, you're in the FF base, so a full-scale invasion will give you some action, at least. If Makarov and DJ don't get their asses over here soon, however, I'm going to need to continue without them.

HCL 2: Twisted tinkers' triumph

I, on the other hand, am not a huggy person x3 The people in this group should know this by now xD and why the hugs? You've already seen me

Kaichiiro

hugs because hugs, hugs are their own reasons ^^

Areapolis - City of Wonders! (Always Open)

Your choice, the Wyvern could arrive at any time. At least not until a couple more people post. I have evil plans, and they will unfold as other people post.

HCL 2: Twisted tinkers' triumph

I have a feeling it's going to be a long while before we ever see Drac. Personally, I'm not even sure he's a real character, seeing as how I have NEVER SEEN HIM!

Wraithblade6

Indeed, you wouldn't even know what he looks like.

........that...that hurt my brain ;-; so many fandoms And I'm in like 5 of them.....I think <_<

Kaichiiro

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGS Sorry, I'm very much a hugging person (=

Areapolis - City of Wonders! (Always Open)

Throwing a bone at the others. Also, Rusalka, I have the giant wyvern you mentioned heading towards the city. I'm planning on having Alice manipulate it to make it attack the Tall, so if you want soem monster-slaying action, place your character within swords-reach.

Areapolis - City of Wonders! (Always Open)

Loudly, the door to the whorehouse banged open, as Ja'Lir strode through. As was usual for anyone entering, one of the girls instantly walked towards him, to make sure he enjoyed his stay. A single withering glance from the paladin made her reconsider, however, and she quite promptly backed away. When the warrior strode up to the counter, where a scantily clad lady was performing acts more acurately described as 'entertainment', rather than actually tending the bar. As the onyx-skinned warrior halted beside the counter, however, the colour drained from the woman's face. He spoke in calm, soft tones, and yet he was clearly heard over even the dinn the drunk soldiers were making. 'There is a human with troll's blood here, where is that human?' 'W-Well, I can't-' 'If I were to kill every living being in this establishment, I would find the person I was looking for. Your answer will save me the trouble of cleaning blood from my blade, and you the trouble of being judged for your sin in the afterlife.' The tone of the palladin's voice was not one of anger, or intimidation, but rather a cold assertion of death. 'Room 12!' Leaving the terrified 'bartender', Ja'Lir steps up the stairs, chainmail hauberk jungling with ever step. It had been a bluff, of course, he would not sully the name of the Blessed by committing a crime. Their standing in this city was bad enough. However, sometimes it was good to make use of the Blessed's bloody reputation, and his face could be devoid of emotion when he wished it to be. Which was, admittedly, pretty much always. Unwilling to waste time, Ja'Lir kicked down the door to Room 12, the half-rotten wood easily giving way to his metal-clad foot. It crashed into the ground with a second bang, as the armoured figure strode into the room. His face was deep black, as was normal for those born in the great northern deserts. He wore a long chainmail hauberk, as well as thick plate boots and gauntlets. A helmet with an upturned visor rested on his head, protecting his scalp. A black and white tabard stretched down over his armor, the seven-pointed star of Trazyn emblazoned clearly in the center, a thick leather belt holding a long black sheat at his side. Combined with his height and muscle mass, he struck an imposing figure. 'Give the elf the glass.' Having delivered his message, Ja'Lir turned on his heels, and walked away, eager to return to his post beside his mistress. She had a bad habit of underestimating the danger to herself in her scheming, and he constantly worried about her safety. Aside from her being a Prophet, he had grown rather fond of her over the years, as she was able to look right through his stony face, and with her he had no need to speak his feelings to have them known. With five long strides, Ja'Lir was already at the staircase, heading down.

The Metahuman Revolution

I'm here, waiting on Makarov and DJ