<span class="mu-i">“The Krieger Corp is the life for me, A gun, a bed and a grave for free. That’s my lot in the Black Company.”</span>
It took the Earth 10 long years to die. Like every planet afflicted by the pervasive sentient plague that swept the galaxy at the turn of the 23rd century, aptly named The Rot, Earth’s demise was slow and agonising at first then violent and sudden by the end. The seas boiled and the air turned to ash in the wake of the continent-shattering orbital bombardments that cleansed her and a hundred other worlds.
20 years later, the dust of the Purification Wars has settled and the surviving xenos empires have finished carving up the remaining colonies of those less fortunate races between them, including those few left from Earth’s initial phase of expansion. Just rewards for the victorious alien’s part in saving the galaxy. The surviving human population, once many billions, now numbers in the mere millions. An entire race of refugees, vagrants and backwater outcasts begging, stealing and labouring as second-class citizens, servants or slaves under uncaring alien masters.
A lifetime of backbreaking work for stale recycled oxygen units and a handful of credits is the best fate most humans can hope for. Little wonder then that the violent but lucrative life of a mercenary holds such appeal. As the novelty of peace wears off and the rival alien nations rattle their sabres once more, human mercenaries are in high demand for their crude effectiveness and affordable prices.
And of all the human mercenary firms, there are none so infamous and so highly sought after as the services of the Black Company…
The Dominion War is over. The Treaty of Bajor has been signed and the Federation Alliance emerged victorious. But war is never without consequences. The Klingon Empire and Cardassian Union, despite their victorious status, have been bloodied beyond measure. It will take decades before they are willing to re-assert themselves to the extent they did pre-war. The United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire stand victorious and unchallenged in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, but whilst nominally allies, their pact has been built upon a mutual enemy, it is prone to break any day now. The Dominion has returned to the Gamma Quadrant, and an unsteady peace has settled over the galaxy.
But the Bajoran Wormhole remains open, and for as long as there are Strange New Worlds, there are those willing to document them. Accords signed between the victorious powers have seen Federation and Romulan expeditions passing through the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant. Whilst not peacekeepers, the vessels sent are undoubtedly more militaristic than their more traditional exploratory counterparts. The Defiant class has not been shuttered, but repurposed. It is through the Bajoran Wormhole, into the Gamma Quadrant, upon the very doorstep of the defeated but not broken Dominion, that the USS Stalwart sails. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.
Peace is uneasy between the Alpha Quadrant powers, but their uneasy alliance holds for now. The Klingons and Cardassians may not have the power to exert themselves, but they have negotiated limited access to Romulan and Federation ships. Each exploratory vessel in the Gamma Quadrant must have at least one allied attache. These vessels are often staffed with skeleton crews, lest the Dominion grow weary. Never before has Starfleet’s journey of discovery been so fraught with hostility. But you do not fear.
Your name is <span class="mu-s">Hoik Broadback</span>, a young Vetucker man in the Hegemony. While your exact age by solar cycles is difficult to determine, due to being born on a far away planet from your homeworld with an elipitcal orbit; you are categorized by your Jaxtian-Standard Biological Aging rate to be <span class="mu-i">Eighteen Years</span> old.
As with all Hegemonic citizens, your time is evenly split between training, work, social time, and play. You have a pretty busy schedule with a scarce few hours a day for leisure, but that's okay. It's expected for guys your age, plus you volunteered to help clean the workshop today. You put some of your things into a locker as you hear a musical voice call out from behind.
<span class="mu-b">”Hi Hoik~!”</span>
You feel flushed as you turn and see the owner of that voice, one <span class="mu-s">Ophia Ulantri</span>, a Jaxtian girl who's been in a lot of your classes. And she works in the facility too, just in a different department. You try to lean back against the locker, but can't figure out where to put your hands.
To wit; it cannot be gainsaid that the Many Mysteries are well-without the purview of Flegmat, or any other author herein this Canon; truly, it is that they would write of Mysterious Medicine and Healing Arts with the same authority as a Counter-Clerk would of chirurgery! However, here Flegmat wrestles – gainfully, mind – with the long-historied role that those who Delved had on the mundane study of Humorous Nature. His accounting of the rise into good-grace of the Fourfold Theory is well-fleshed, though not novel to anyone passably read. The account of the subsequent fall from good-grace and the too-incremental acceptance of its successor, the Comprehensive Theory - elsewhere named as the Singular or the Singular Comprehensive Theory - is novel, controversial, and in the eyes of some, perhaps even dangerous. As its inclusion was not a decision gently made nor borne, so it may be said that it being rendered here at all is testament to the strength of Flegmat's argumentation, and the butcher's bill that the slow adoption of Singular Theory has needlessly wrought.
- A preface from a Stricken printing of <span class="mu-i">The Canon of Medicine</span>, a collection of writings on medical history by a number of authors. The Fourfold Theory held that for man there is an internal alchemical balance of phlegm, blood and bile - both yellow and black - and that when balance between these four is lost, illness and malady are inevitable. The Comprehensive Theory holds that there is but one 'family' of Humors, not four - hence Singular - and that it is the presence of these Humors, not the balance of them, that are responsible for illnesses. Medical interventions that ascribe to the Comprehensive Theory of Humors are more successful than those that ascribe to the Fourfold Theory, though as the Comprehensive Theory was developed by Witches as opposed to Physicians, its adoption in the fields of Mundane medicine has been slow, partially on account of the inclement association, but primarily as any benefits from implementing the theory in practice were misattributed to Mysterious Medicine, and were assumed to be beyond mundane practitioners.
<span class="mu-i">In Scrimshaw Mount, all graves are shallow. Even on the Promontory, where Nature, through the permutations of the Pattern had placed soil on the otherwise nude basalt of the Mount, the bone white stone was never more than a few feet down, commonly less than one. As such, getting graves to the standard depth of eight feet was simply not practical for those interned in the Mount's public burying grounds. But those that lived their lives and died their deaths on the Mount didn't take overmuch umbrage at their shallow graves. For both the practical and pious among them understood full well that under the panopticonical Gaze of the Patternmaker Above … all things are shallow.</span>
I was challenged by a colleague to get 700 reais on any forum I don't have much hope, but if I get the money, it will be used to buy a notebook for work and study.
You are Tristain d’Rusalka, a noble from the United Kingdom of Fodlan born with unique abilities bestowed upon you by the Goddess. You have journeyed across the sea to the desert kingdom of Morfis after receiving an invitation to join a mysterious competition. Though you know little of the trials that lie ahead, the winner of this contest has been promised the hand of Morfis’ Princess, Yulia Xan Phanes, in marriage. Seeking adventures, thrills, and battles that would be worthy of your might, you embarked on this strange voyage with nothing but your trusted axe.
After having arrived at the mountain town of Hima, you were quickly pulled into a confrontation between the local garrison and the dreaded Cult of the Serpent. In your attempt to learn more about the Cult’s activities, you inadvertently caused a religious schism which found you as the new figurehead of one of its branches. Partnering with Hima’s defenders as well as one of your rivals in the competition for Princess Yulia’s hand, you defeated the Cult’s main army. In doing so, you acquired a new mount for yourself; an exceedingly rare white wyvern capable of sorcery, whom you named Fionn.
Grateful for your assistance, the Governor of Hima offered to train you in the art of fighting atop your newfound companion. You have now spent the last five days familiarizing yourself with Fionn and growing accustomed to his movements. You will soon leave for your next destination, Shangri-La. The fabled “Palace of Debauchery” will be your last stop before finally arriving at the City of Morfis.
>Tristain d’Rusalka >Level 30/50 Wyvern Lord (EXP: 0/100) HP: 61/61 (120%) Strength: 34 (65%) Magic: 20 (40%) Speed: 25 (30%) Defense: 26 (60%) Resistance: 16 (40%) Luck: 15 (55%) >Skill: Resolve (When HP falls to less than 35%, Strength, Speed and Defense increase by 7) >Dragon-kin Wyvern (SPD based chance for Fionn to launch an ice attack, dealing ½ MAG Damage.)
>Weapons: Silver Axe (+16 ATK), Hammer (+8 ATK, 3x DMG vs Armor Knights), Devil Axe (+21 ATK, -20 HP when Used) Iron Bow (+6 ATK)
>Spells: Fire (+3 ATK, 5 Uses) Elfire (+7 ATK, 3 Uses) Wind (+3 ATK, 5 Uses, 3x DMG vs flying)
>Abilities: Crest of Indech: You are able to make a follow-up attack on one foe, regardless of Speed. (4 Charges) Crest of Macuil: Double the attack power of a magic spell. (3 Charges) Combat Art: Earthsplitter: Cleave all enemies standing two rows in front of you. (Cost: 1 Crest of Indech Charge) Combat Art: Throw: (Toss your weapon at an enemy and return it to your hand. Ranged attack.) (1 Crest of Indech Charge)
<span class="mu-s">INTRO</span> (Please do not skip this)
◕ Fatale Albion is a Spin-Off of Lumina Canima’s “Meguca Royale”, taking place in the U.K. Three players are currently taking part in this game. They each will answer to their own prompts with their own characters. This Quest will have major spoilers for PMMM, so if you haven’t watched it yet and don’t want me to ruin it for you, watch it right now or else. If you still want to read and participate in this quest then I’ll have something to show you.
◕ In the previous thread, Abigail learned some of the details related to her new Soul Room-mate, learned some new techniques to utilise her Magic, and initiated a date with her boyfriend. Stephanie and her sister almost got mugged with a knife (it’s the UK, what did you expect?) but Stephanie still had her longsword as it didn’t disappear with her Magical Girl outfit and she fended off the cur after insulting him furiously, she then agreed to binge Anime with her sister after getting home. Alba learned that she is a goddamn Magical Girl from her friend/personal tailor, was offered to be part of a mission to get rid of Grief all over the UK by said friend, and learned an obscure, occult, nearly unusable language by said friend as well. Stephanie’s actions were posted last thread, Abigail’s actions were given to me through an alternative communication channel, and we have been waiting for Alba’s return.
<span class="mu-s">OTHER STUFF</span>
>Can I also join in the suffering?
I’ve decided that I’m accepting new players for now. Just fill in this Contract Form and you’ll be all set.
Name: (The name of your character. Shameless Self-Insert or not) Appearance: (The garish looks of your character. Clothing descriptions are also welcome.) Quirks: (Personality traits, how they behave. Examples of how they act in specific situations are good. This space is vague intentionally, but remember: Simplicity is power and Brevity is the Soul of Wit.) Wish: (The Wish that you made with your Incubator. Your magical ability and theme is influenced heavily by your Wish. Make sure to be careful, some wishes have unforeseen consequences.)
As Portal Master Dreyfus — revered archmage of thresholds, wayfarer of the hidden skeins, and unrivaled architect of the interdimensional veil — you have finally mastered the arcane and metaphysical intricacies of portalcraft. Having proven yourself time and again before the High Conclave of Planar Artisans, the Grand Order of the Arcanogate has bestowed upon you its greatest and most sacred charge: to open the way to an unclaimed plane of existence, tame its chaos or emptiness, and establish from scratch a flourishing interplanar metropolis — a nexus of civilizations, a jewel of trade and learning, a sanctuary for seekers from a thousand worlds.
But before the first stone is conjured, before the first leyline is tapped, you must choose your canvas: the raw, untouched plane upon which your grand experiment will unfold.
You've located ten vast planes of existence that might be suitable for the task ahead. Choose which one you desire to settle.
The bell rings loud and true throughout the village, signaling to all who populate this humble land that it's safe to come out now. Life wasn't always like this, in fact things used to be quite peaceful, sure the occasional war might've broke out from a particularly power hungry king. The times were never this dire though. The first occurrence of the end times took place in the exotic lands of the east, it was in a land known as Japan when the first horde showed itself and devastated an entire culture of people. Through the co-operation and unity of many renowned and accomplished wizards, the eastern lands had been closed off from the rest of the world, sealed away by an impenetrable magic barrier.
The ringing throughout the village continues, it takes it's toll on your eardrums as you shake your head and try to rule out all the noise around you.
"It's them! The bloody militia got more o' them bastards!" A distant bystander screams.
Though you can't see the nearby area around you, you can make out the noises of a large crowd gathering around the buggy you and a few others are forcefully being held inside. The bag over your head is tightly wound from your neck, nearly suffocating you to the point that even to look in a different direction causes you discomfort.
"Freaks, impure! Why'd ya bring em here then eh?!" A woman from the gathering crowd furiously yells.
You feel the horses dragging this buggy along stop abruptly. It's only moments after where you feel a burly person grab you and haul you back onto your feet.
"Come on now, get a move on then! Ain't got all day out here." A deep voice booms from just outside your door.
You can't tell exactly, but you think you can make out the gasps, and muffled words of three others in the same situation as you inside this buggy. Wrongfully accused of aiding the impure hordes, you've been brutally beaten and arrested by this lands local militia. In earnest truth who you really are is..
