You watch the formed droplets of water flow down the glass before you. The officer around you is large, temperature controlled, and also a part of the governmental building, with you having a private office at the very top of it, as is befitting your stature as the one and only Edel of house Hardrada.
Despite the great advances you had managed to achieve, to steer the course of a colony made up of a bunch of traumatised and mentally scarred veterans, you had managed to avoid violence with surprising efficiency and ease, mainly due to your nature. And yet, now, everything just seems so worrisome.
“David ?” Finally calling out your name, Zack draws your attention.
Right, you are still in the middle of a meeting, your mind wandered. “Yes, I am listening.” You finally manage to steel your mind and concentrate.
Zack sighs. The energetic man that would never shut up once he got going had, while not losing his enthusiasm, aged. Clear wrinkles, tired eyes that are there no matter how much he tries to sleep. Not to mention that the man never liked exercising, so the years of staying in the lab had resulted in him, well, getting fat. Still, he, and you for that matter, are far off batter than Ashwin. You have no idea how long he will last.
The Saiyans are a race of planet conquering warriors reknowned for their ability in battle and their love of fighting. Their love is so strong that they spread across the cosmos in a never ending conquest of planets, serving the Frieza Force and their never ending conquest. In this enviornment the weak are detested and put down upon. Most of them are thrown into menial support jobs, but as Frieza's grip grows stronger across the universe a new program has been established. More and more infants are instead sent across the stars to worlds weak enough for them to potentially conquer. His army already provides plenty more support so why have saiyans waste away in honor-less careers instead of being given one shot to prove their strength or die in honorable battle? You are one of those Saiyan infants chosen for the task at hand. Your mind has already been subjected to basic education by electronic aids-to be further boosted in the Attack Ball you're loaded into and sent off to. But just who is the soul sent off to space? Name: [ ] Gender: [Male/Female]
Recap: >You are some weird fuckin' amphibian creature. You're stuck in some weird fuckin' prison of sorts. >You've met a talking, walking artillery shell, by the name of Shelly. She has some sort of fear of chairs. >You've also met a tall, puffy-haired dude named Jim, who's in the cell next to you. He says the only thing in his room is a big red button. >Your goal? Figure out what's going on and then get the hell out of this place.
In the land of Orrosta, the old gods are stirring once more. The wrath cycle, a never-ending war for control over the planet, starts anew. Drakkaru, (the god of dominion) thought to be dead by the other gods, is nearly free of the prison which has bound him for so long, and the Bellatists, (those who worship him), are gathering their strength. Cultists, full of hatred and malice, or perhaps simply stupidity, perform dark rituals of void, allowing for horrid creatures to escape their confinement. The horsemen of death and bloodshed ravage the land, leaving little but destruction. New elemental lords emerge, ready to consume the world. Yet, some good does stand. Mechaine (The god of machines, innovation and commerce), prepares the tin heads and men of iron, to strike out against the corruptive forces. Selene and the sons of Solantis work to uphold virtue and honor in the hearts of men. In this endless struggle, small forces can tip the balance. Can a ragtag group of adventurers discover the true nature of the world, and finally put an end to the wrath cycle? This is a very loosely structured sandbox adventure, set in a world of my making. The sky is the limit for what can be done. If you wish to join, just give me a brief overview of your character, and we can work to make it in line with the lore of the world. I intend to properly start in roughly 3 days, so ensure you submit a character before then if you want to join.
You are a SKELETAL MAW - a person (?) reincarnated as a monster in a fantasy world.
Initially spawning as a Bone Turtle, you have done quests and wandered the Deadlands, levelling up your skills and even evolving one time.
In more detail, in the previous thread you: >got acquainted with a reaper adventurer, Arthur, while dungeon-diving >got quests from a strange guiding voice to recover your memories >intervened in battles between a lich girl and her nemesis (2 times) >traded with a skeleton caravan >killed an undead tiger >looted some magical power crystals from various sources >put the undead of a border fortress to rest >killed a mad wizard on request from the reaper >agreed to assist a group of bone scouts (they're not made of bones, they're searching through bones for profit) in looting a secret treasury by protecting them from undead
Currently, you're with the scouts in the fortress where the portal to the secret treasury has been opened. And there are some monsters on the way for sure...
(I'm back and fixed all the technical problems <span class="mu-i">for now</span>. Let's roll.)
“Do you think you can help me? I’m not really bad, if I wanted to eat you I would!”
“You’ll eat me?”
“I mean, no, I meant that I can but won’t because I’m not a bad bug!”
Be it the bizarreness of the situation or his mind too tired to think, this made sense to Tobias. A normal tyranid would eat him by now. He stared at the yellow pupils, almost drawn into her eyes and face. The moon’s pale light accentuated the sharp angles of her nose and lips that resembled so close to a human.
“I’ll help you…”
“Really?”
A smile revealed the deadly maw of jagged fangs. Ninety-Nine’s tail wagged.
“Yes, where do you need to go?”
“I don’t know.” Ninety-Nine set Tobias down. She cupped her cheek as she pondered. “I’m not going to look so well when I come in… Where are we?”
“Sector Six.” Tobias said. “We’re close to Sector Five here.”
“Oh that’s where Stracken is!” Ninety-Nine cheered. “But he won’t recognize me without any armor…”
“I can go back by myself.” Tobias offered. “I’m certain you will be shot moment you are seen, and I will be as well since they will assume I am under your control.”
>I’ll follow you until you get to Sector Five, I’ll wait at the entrance. I’ll hide if I see anyone. >I can wait here >Write-in
Additional choice (optional)
>“I wouldn’t really eat you by the way… you have pretty eyes that’d be a waste.” [Face check] >“I wouldn’t really eat you by the way… Not that I think you’ll taste bad but I like having you here.” [Face check]
The world is shadowed in misery. The two dark humors that rule mankind are Fear and Hunger. Journey with us, guide your weary body through the winds and chattering teeth of the dungeons, lose yourself to the macabre, you dancer of shadows.
“Why not?” —she squinted— “he’s a scout; why else would he be in the skies here alone? He was not. Should we let him go, the Demon King will know our whereabouts.”
You turned to Mwaus, his clawed hands continuing to wave around, bewildered as to why the Nettle Harpy was not responding in kind.
“I don’t think he remembers anything of his task, even if he was sent out to scout out the place,” you whispered. “Right now, he’s convinced that he’s the Demon King’s sole heir. We can make use of this.” Seeing Miranna lift an eyebrow, you added, “I don’t desire the Demon King’s throne. Once all the Generals and the King are dealt with, we shall let this demon have it.”
Miranna’s ashen lips silently shaped the words: ‘Are you kidding?’
“He’s an imp, hero! Or might as well be one,” she craned her neck, the tangled of white, messy hair veiling to cover her ears and forehead. “Do you have any notion of the chaos he could unleash with such powers? Or how the other demons might react?” As you reached to shed the wings, Miranna grasped your shoulders. “Think again, hero! Imagine the power you could wield as the Demon King, ruler of all?”
“Miranna,” you said, staring deep into her inflamed eyes. “It’s not what I want. You promised to regard my wants. The prophecy doesn’t mention the throne.”
“And yet!—“
“We aren’t crowning him today, you realise? It’s going to take a while. We’ll have ample time to prepare him,” you said, tendering a reassuring smile. “Unless … Miranna, you’d want the throne for yourself? Sure, if you wish—“
Grimacing, the Nettle Harpy retracted her talons and spread them wide before her. “Not I, hero. Being trapped in Banefroth, with every imp, demon, hound, and spirits needing something from me, no matter how trivial and annoying. I’d go crazy with all the responsibilities,” she said. “I’m content where I’m now.”
“Where you were.” You reminded, scratching at your ear. “For the prophecy not to harm -you-, I’ll have to rename your new title, perhaps a Demon Lord?” you asked. “Neither you or I desire the burdensome role. We shall leave it to him.”
“What are you two talking about!?” Mwaus walked between you, like a neglected child forgotten by his parents. Blood dripped from a fresh claw mark on his hand.
Miranna eyes fluttered in annoyance. You cleared your throat.
“I promised to cook you a proper roasted hare, didn’t I? Let me keep my promise.”
Mwaus pressed his other hand to hide the gash. “The human shall prepare us a meal? Do so, then. And see that it is impeccable, I’ll accept nothing less.”
Miranna grabbed Mwaus by the back of his collar, dragging him violently off the ground. Her irises sizzled like red coals until only flaming dots remained.
