The nameless soldier emerged victorious from the foul ashes of burnt human flesh. Alone, charred beyond recognition, and gasping for his last breath, the young guard's final thoughts turned to his brother and sister back home.
Drider...Marian...I'm sorry...
The guards who had just rounded the corner took one look at the destruction and fled. Let the prisoners have their moment of glory. He would deal with them later.
While Sol attack the main bulk of the resisting guards, Boan was distracted as a figure flashed by at the end of a corridor, it was his former second in command. Chasing after that familiar stranger, Boan deviated from the main fight and found himself lock in with his former compatriot, his second in command, seeing that the ex-guard captain only had a spear, decided to draw his calibur.
"You are making a huge mistake," said his friend, he was not frightened by Boan's presence but rather, pleased, "There is no way you can run from the all seeing eyes of the order, surrender to me now and I may appeal your death warrant."
"Shut your damned mouth, Judas," Boan sneered at his former friend, "I know what happened, I heard the rumor from inmates while I was in there, rumor that YOU delayed the court appeal for the woman I killed, WHY? Do you want the captaincy that bad?!"
"Captaincy?" Judas chuckled, "This petty little guard captain position means nothing to me... Besides, this is Ozlo's handy work, I am just working for him..."
"OZLO?!"
"Yeah," said Judas, "We need to execute some the death row prison guards to make sure that the brainless masses was kept in the illusion of justice and truth. An eye for an eye, Your death is necessary to bring about order... and don't forget, that woman isn't the only person to die at your hands, hundreds fell before you and your firing squads, you are just as damned as everything else in this miserable world Boan. "
"If the brainless masses want to see a death guard, I will kill one for them..." Boan jabs his spear forward, Judas parries and the fight went into full throttle. The two were evenly matched but the poor quality of the spear soon become detrimental as it broke into two under the sharp calibur swings.
"What is that toy that you are holding?" Judas laughed before tossing a calibur into Boan's hand, "Real man uses weapons in combat, not flimsy wooden sticks."
The Fire, raging against souls, ceased all at once. The bodies left behind were smothered of their fires, and Sol stood still, the sword pointed against the ground.
I breathe in what little fresh air there is, as the smoke begins to rise. I feel faint, and weigh on my sword in an effort to stay up. I shake my hair over my eyes once more, pulling the burnt hood of my cloak over my eyes. Blood from old wounds poured anew, as the heat has let loose the blood from beneath my skin and my wounds are no longer sealed.
I begin walking through the path I have cleared, horror following my initial reaction. I have to get out of here, all the dead and the suffocation...I can barely even breathe. I can't be annihilated like this. I cough for some help, "Can I get someone to carry me?" I fall to one knee, pain shooting through my head.
Repercussions. A flame cannot survive amid suffocating darkness, nor a wildfire as an individual.
I dry heave and gag. I won't be doing that for awhile. Will we even make it out? I hold my Stone, and a tear rolls down my face, the memories surfacing. A demon afraid of fire. I really am a mess...
"I'll get Boa-" Sona said, before hearing someone speak.
"Besides, this is Ozlo's handy work, I am just working for him." The very words set Sona off like a time bomb. Someone knew about the terrible things he was doing, and did it for him! Before Sona even thought about going to pick up Boan, she charged spear first towards the man who was Ozlo's grunt.
"A man who lives for Ozlo dies for me!" She shouted, thrusting her spear towards him.
Sona's spear landed solidly into Juda's loin, quickly backing off, Boan's former friend decided to retreat due to the intervention. Run past a set of security gates, Judas locked the gate behind him and ran off.
"This isn't over Boan!" Judas yelled with one hand on his bleeding side, "You will die, one way or the other!"
Fos watched the events in front of him, A ghost to the rest of the world. Simply side stepping the falling bodies of soldiers and Guards alike.
"Well this is boring me to tears...Still the smell is having a rather Aphrodisiac like effect on me..."
Keeping pace the man did his best to remain quiet and hidden in the group lest a soldier announce his presence, the last thing these poor people needed where alchemist's coming in to stop them, of course if they did he had a full belly from all the free food just falling down in front of him, his face a blood mess from the feeding.
"I really hate to burst your all's bubbles here in this moment of glory, but I say we have about less then five minutes after one of these guys realizes who I am and calls in the Big guns to stop us. So we should move with more pep in our steps."
As he spoke, one of the no so finished off guards stood up and tried to attack him, Fos seemed not too worried but as he felt the presence coming close he turned around and got right in the mans face. To the common man his movement was just a blur of a red myst that seemed to exit his body from the many Runes etched in his body.
"It's rude to sneak up on people."
He whispered before placing one hand on the mans body. A small flash of light, almost a bright as the sun, came from the oddly shaped broken moon circle on his hand. After that Fos just turned away and walked back to the group.
The guard, reaching for where the hand was, dropped his weapon and started to scream like some one was burning his body alive, voice starting to fade and his body slamming to the ground as he rolled around trying to put out the invisible fire. It too all but a hand full of seconds for the guard to stop moving and look up wards, where his eyes forever locked with the space between here and the next life.
From the gaps between the armor pieces came the all too well known sight of a crimson pool, only this time it was not moving like it's normal self, rather it was moving quickly away with a sinister hissing sound some one would expect from boiled water. As it escaped from the mans body more and more, it was clear what just happened. Fos boiled the mans blood causing it to burn through the skin and fest from pores all over the guys body.
All the while, Fos kept his ever present, dark smile.
"Well meal tickets, we have places to be."
A small piece of lore that I find Ironic, to have been missed- Leeroy and Solomon were in the same squad.
And so, as I say- it's Ironic to see that An old leader gets to watch a bloodline fade away.
Don't you worry now, I'm good at antagonists too. . .
((inb4 half-baked app comes in : please do the antagonist well))
As Teach trailed the bloody path being carved, he began to search the guards for their weaponry, but after a while, became dissatisfied.
"Tch, for holding supposed traitors to the cause, the weaponry is rather light," he whispers to himself as the Vog-cursed man in front blasted away at the young soldier.
And while one of the soldiers was still struggling against the Alchemist, Teach took one of the guard's Cutters and ground it against the wall, sharpening the edge keener than a razor would. He slit something akin to a massive barcode along his wrist, and dropped the sword with an empty clatter.
And for a moment, he cupped his ear as his head cocked to the ground, waiting.
Of course they were coming, but would their speed was in question. With the corridors so narrow, it'd be hard to imagine storming in at breakneck speeds.
Teach looked at his spear for a moment, and shook his head.
It was 7 years ago since he had been a Lance Knight. 7 years and he could still tell that the make of the spears were shoddy, at best : rounded points, a warped shaft, and definitely a lack of boosters. A heavier lance would've been more favorable if it had rocket boosters.
How did Ozlo get such bad guards; moreover, who wanted the responsibility over this mess of a civilization? If basic security is in jeopardy, then what was the point?
He'd have to ask his savior later.
((We don't need any new villains yet. The ones we have are powerful, complex, and fully involved in the story, driving it and working from behind the scenes. You will have your hands full tackling just one of the two main villains.))
The smoke and smog dissipates completely, as I recover. The black at the edge of my sight recedes, and I can see everything now. The burned have fallen. I secure the hood once more, hiding my eyes. They wouldn't know of my deformity. I'll show them later, but it isn't important right now. I don't need to spread fear into my comrades as well.
I stand, waving the sword once again. The last of the smoke and ash fall dead to the ground, like shards. More guards would be on the way, and it would get tougher to get out the longer we wait.
"We can leave. Come," I say, encouraging those behind me, "we can head further."
I advance, jogging down the hallway with the sword at my side. The bleeding from my slit palm had sealed again, as had most of the scratches on my body. They are minor irritations compared to death.
Execute them.
((Not to be stingy or anything, but I don't know if the others are supposed to be able to tell Sol is cursed. He advanced ahead of them for the sole purpose of them not seeing his eyes when he took his hood down, but maybe the fire attack of the sword Vesuvius was a bit much, but I don't know if you can tell if someone is Vog-cursed based on that. But, I won't ask you to redact or edit your posts, I don't care much at whatever point the characters find out. That's all xD))
((Regardless if Teach noticed or not, I'm just putting it in the same timezone as to what Teach might be doing while X and Y take place. It shouldn't affect the plot unless you think you can craft up meta-knowledge of how the events are supposed to go according to Teach [which is difficult, unless you've [[like me]] already finished an entire iteration of this].))
((I don't think it'll effect the plot that much if that is a description and not a record or insight of his identification or thoughts, then again it wouldn't effect much if the opposite was true. I just said it because the last two posts mentioned Vog-cursed without seeing his eyes which I'd believe to be the dead giveaway, but I just thought I'd mention it for the sake of others, the story, or some transmundane development or whatever. But it's fine. :p))
[[Have you ever stood up for 12 hours straight? No sitting or anything? Not even leaning? My poor feet. I'll be able to post more often starting two days from now, in the evening.]]
Tifa whirred silently on Max's shoulder as each prisoner did their own business with the guards. She wasn't concerned by the overseer's weaponry, but rather in the information held in the area around them. She had also been unconcerned when the group prepared themselves with weaponry for their travels ahead. A single look at her frame could show that her battle-capability at this point could be measured in single digits.
Therefor, instead of concerning herself with things like "survival rate" and "impending death", she decided to make herself useful, and delved into the realm she hadn't been in ever since she had been imprisoned.
The digital realm.
"Database 93% analyzed. 94%. The security here has not changed much since I was imprisoned." Tifa said almost silently -- well, silent compared to the sounds of guard-death screams and blood-alchemy torture. Normally, a simple analysis like this would have taken the AI seconds to completely uncover, but due to the fact that she hadn't been able to access any digital information in a great deal of time... She was a bit rusty.
Still, she had uncovered a great deal of information just by analyzing the outer shell of the security-branch's database. Like the fact that she had been in prison for roughly 3.5 years.
"Database 100% analyzed. Detection status: Clear. Or... [Bzzt] Presumably clear. Question:" Tifa turned her head to look at Max, who held onto her, despite shoving off three guards less than a minute prior.
"Because you and your partners have [Bzzit] presumably integrated yourselves into the guard... You wouldn't happen to have any information regardi-dii-ding recent change-logs to the system's security, would you?" For added affect, Tifa manipulated her face to create a line above her "eyes" to make it appear as if she was raising an eyebrow.
"Ah... And... By "recent" I mean between now and 4 years ago."
((@Yigge: Okay, this is getting ridiculous. We need a name, like, soon.
Also, @Liminori: STOP FALLING BEHIND! I like having you in the story. I don't like dragging player characters kicking & screaming, but I will with Flynn if I have to. You won't slip out of this RP so easy. Besides, I have plans for both Leeroy and Flynn. Dropping out would be detrimental to the story.))
"Database 93% analyzed. 94%. The security here has not changed much since I was imprisoned," Tifa remarked over the din of battle. Max finished head-butting the last guard in front of him and glanced back at her. "We all clear now? I think I'm getting the hang of this sword-less fighting."
"Database 100% analyzed. Detection status: Clear. Or...[bzzt] presumably clear." Max could have sworn he saw Tifa's head twitch. "Good to know..." he replied. He pulled open a storage cell door and peeked through it. "Question:" Tifa's clear voice sprang up again, "Because you and your partners have [bzzit] presumably integrated yourselves into the guard, you wouldn't happen to have any information regaaaaaardi-" Her voice briefly glitched into a high-pitched squeal. "-di-di-di-ding recent change-logs to the system's security, would you?"
Max picked up a sword and looked it over. New weapons were like expensive toys: fun to look at, but impractical to take home. Tifa continued undeterred. "Ah...and...by 'recent' I mean between now and 4 years ago." Max dropped the sword and stepped out of the storage cell. "To some extent, yes," he replied at last. "There haven't been any significant changes to security. Sure, there were lots and lots of bloated antivirus updates and some cosmetic performance changes, but aside from that, nothing really substantial has changed. The system is just better at resisting amateur hackers."
He peeked through another storage cell and found what he was looking for: a ball & chain. A broad smile drew on his face when he picked up that beautiful steel mass and hoisted it into his cradling arms. "I was wondering where this baby went," he murmured aloud to no one in particular. He had just stepped out when he was greeted with fiery blast that knocked him clear off his feet.
Max was not able to get back on them, as the ground itself had wrapped itself around his feet and held them in place. Before him stood the red-robed alchemist, Narsil Rereward, wielder of the Grim Tome of Rage. The man drew back his hood and brought his pale, effeminate face to meet Max's square, strong face. "Hello again, Maximilian Kant. 'Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance again. Why, you do look ravishing, clad in all-metal mannequin you call a 'robot'."
Narsil straightened and looked down the hall at Solomon, who had finished dispatching the remaining guards on his end of things. "Oh Solomon! Solomon Trent! Hello!" Narsil called out. Solomon sheathed his sword and turned to Narsil, only to draw his sword again. "What the he-!?" He stumbled back and nearly fell. "Whoa! Where did you come from?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about me if I were you. I'd worry about your friend Sona. I think she's going to go positively ballistic when she finds out I'm the man Ozlo replaced her with."
He gazed at Sona and grinned.
((@Thinslayer What do you mean?))
I halt, looking to the new participant. I hold the sword down, weighing upon it and looking at him curiously. My orange eye blinks, examining him thoroughly. The red dress, the book, and the condescension that was only matched by the other Alchemist. Not that condescension was bad, in fact, it was very attractive.
But this was a little too much, this was intentionally divisive. The guards were being halted from progressing, and they were the only ones that could lead us to our grand scheme.
The anger building in Sona was also an issue, something that would also hold us up. It seems we haven't truly escaped. There is nothing I can do to help, and interest in the man with the red dress held me in place. This man didn't have a plan, probably the most arrogant chance one can take in their life is deciding that they have everything under control at all times and hold things to their own emotion.
The guards are too attached to this man. But all they needed to do was give me this sword and I'll be out. Or that Alchemist, who will bring down the entire building or clear it of living opposition, I rely on his arrogance to hold him back and slaughter them all. And/or with the sword, I'm guaranteed to escape.
I plunge the sword into the ground like a post, and sit on the hand guards of the sword, staring down the hall at this confrontation. Resting an elbow on the hilt and my chin on my palm, I stare and wait.
Only a child, but strong at heart and the most passionate of all.
((Also yes I posted this when I saw Thinslayer posted 30 seconds ago. Been refreshing all night. xD))
(Wait, I thought Sona went to tag along with Boan to take down Judas... Ugh, who cares, clearly whichever god created this RP environment have little regard for the three dimensions.)
"Astran there you ar-" Boan stopped when he realized that his rescuer already have his sword unsheathed so he did as well, with the sword gifted by his traitor colleague held in two hands, Boan inched behind Astran only to see Narsil grinning at the other end of the hall way, "Who is that Old red riding hood ? An old friend of yours?"
Teach, with little else to do, softly aims the tip of his spear towards Narsil, as though considering to skewer both Max and the alchemist. Certainly, he was capable downing at least once if he threw it...
...no, they'd have a trick. Either the Alchemist or someone else would cover for the rest. All he needed to do was not die, even if either of the two rescuers did.
Now, at least, he has a reason to live.
"You? The new Tactician for... Ozlo?" Sona burst out in angry laughter before finishing her sentence, "I won't let you out of here in one piece!" Sona charged towards Narsil. She hated the noble when she was still Ozlo's tactician, and to hear him replacing her made her furious. He even decided to smile at her! As soon as she got close to him, Sona made a powerful thrust towards his heart.
Flynn looks up from the ground he'd sullenly been looking at trying to determine the meaning of life- who truly decides who to live and who to die, To see Sona running and rampaging towards Ozlo's new tactician. Flynn, without unsheathing his blade, moved in the way to block Sona's thrust.
"Oi- If I know anything about tactics, it's that a tactician is the best source of information, Willing or not- And as I would seem to notice, we're not being attacked, So I think it's best we take our chances for a while, Considering that we might not be killed by im'!"
Flynn struggled with Sona a bit more, as he pushed against the force of what was now a downward strike- as he had tossed Sona's blade upward.
He was aware this left him and Narsil open, but merely hoped that this would be enough, as he didn't want to start tearing apart Sona unless he really had to.
(Edit: Powerplay? Yes- But I keep finding less and less opportunities to be "Useful". That being said- Flynn wasn't exactly paying attention to the guards in the hall behind him. Flynn, Why is your head empty?)
They struggle against each others will, each having determination that combats all others for one goal. But it's a struggle for survival, whose will can stay intact? Does it crash, do they break? Can they be made anew?
Staring at them brought the voice to mind. Nothing as crazy as some split personality, but a stranger communicating with me through time and space, originating somewhere obscure, but now relatively close. A stranger released from the mist, a fear found, a Wolver standing among men.
You're still safe, the guards have yet to navigate which containment broke out. Something interrupted the system, you can still languish. The game is paused, and the players are allowed this time. Just mark the seconds and minutes until the game starts up again.
Flynn and Sona. Right.
"We'll get split up, goddamn it..." I say to myself, keeping my hyperactive mind from forcing my body off the sword and out of the building. The fear inside of me is combated by the interest in this moment. The fire from the sword licks the ground, resonating from it and onto the ground, leaving red on the hard ground. I pray the finish soon. We'll be late for our date.
"Hark, pray you hurry." I hollered in a tone indicative of my ambiguous feelings for the whole situation. My eye reaches to the Alchemist Narsil, staring at a soul corrupt with greed and misanthropy. But also propelled by their own fear of what truly has power in their life. The ones that offered him payment can also turn him into a broken man. Pray he not make eye contact with me.
Taking his sweet time now, Fos looked around for something to cover his torso. Sure they had his jacket, aside from his shorts, that's all he ever really had on considering his alchemy came from the marks on his body and the broken moon and Slayed sun on his palms respectively.
Hmm, come to think of it they would have an alchemist here wouldn't they? I better check.
Walking around to some of the bodies Fos started to make a small pile of them, surely he was falling behind but he could catch back up in a second after this quick test.
As quickly as he could the man finished piling the bodies together and started to mumble something to himself before smacking his hands on the ground. A bright light, with little arks of pure energy danced around the bodies for what felt like a good minute before turning them all into a small shard of dark red.
Walking over the man picked up the crystallized energy, red like his favorite meal, then turned and bolted down the hall.
If anything that will clean the area up a little, and draw any alchemist's there. All they will find is a clean empty room that looks like a small struggle happened.
Sona, after struggling for a bit with Flynn, allowed herself to be pushed back after hearing through his reasoning. "Narsil. I WILL kill you in due time. She stood back up, grasping her spear tightly, holding back her anger and her grudges. "To me, his death would be better than any information he could give me. The sooner he dies the sooner Ozlo becomes weaker!"
OOC: I'll have a major post on Saturday once I collect my thoughts. I'm too tired to do any quality writing. I finally have all your characters' roles laid out:
*Darkwatck, Fos: Key plot driver [role secret; discussed w/ player]
*Archemiday-Thebard, Sona: major plot driver. [role secret; discussed w/ player]
*Yigge, The Nameless: Conflicted Hero
*Liminori, Flynn: Broken Hero [+additional major role dependent on player participation]
*Swiftstryker, Teach: The Right Hand [role secret; discussed w/ player]
*Ember-Break, Tifa: Possesses a deep secret.
*Midnight-Dj, Boan: The Judge [role secret]
Saboteur: "Did you hear that? You are going to be a judge Boan!!!"
Boan: "I still prefer my old name but whatever," *changes tone* "I AM DA LAW!!!"
((I don't know if you've read my posts completely, or the others mentioning, but my character's name is Sol. xD))
@Yigge: You mean post #154? Ah.
I strongly recommend writing in third person. You have the distinct advantage of being able to narrate things that wouldn't be plausible in first person while still having the ability to monologue should the need arise. Let me write you an example of what that looks like.
----------------------
Post #151
Sol stares directly into the man, eyes breaking through and into him. A Calibur, blade of a Hero, against a Dragon.
This is spectacular. My form is known.
"Death is Seen, Death is Known. What secret the Order hides now is identified in the cells. And they cannot hide us behind the division between life and death." Sol utters, his teeth clenched as his cloak burns bright. Growling, he stares, raises his sword, his Fire, against the youth.
"You cannot win, your soul has no direction. Let Fire consume you." Sol hisses, and runs toward the man, blade held high and eyes burning. But as he approaches, he turns and moves past him and into the crowd of his friends. Wielding the blade, he unleashed its charge of fire into the crowd, setting it ablaze.
This man does break, and it is found within his friends and those who know his name. He will be forgotten.
Memories from the echo stone spring to mind.
"Vog," The boy whispers to the lit figure.
"Nay, though I am a Beast of a time far gone now. You know Vog, and you know I am not Him. He gave the King the path to the throne. You, Son of the Vog, will bring the ashes the Clockworks desire. In a world of immortals on two sides of a spectrum, light and dark, you must return them to ash, and feed the Clockworks the deaths it desires. Find the light, then the dark, and claim their powers in the Fire."
The fire rushes forth from the blade, and Sol swings again. The Echo Stone around his neck flies in front of his face, and his strength is found within its guidance. The liberation of the Order will come, and deaths will return to the Clockworks.
This is mortality.
----------------------
Doesn't that carry all the same potency as first person? More importantly, it drops Sol's name more often so the players remember it better.
((I'm not too comfortable writing in third person. I also make sure to drop my characters name in a quick third person pretense, but believe it or not, I think my writing would suffer if I went from first to third person and from present tense to past tense. However, I can try that on my next post. :) ))
Sol plunged his sword into the ground and leaned on it to stare at the newcomer. Teach leveled his spear at Narsil as a newfound determination took over him. Boan inched behind Astran to exchange a few words. “Who’s that old red riding hood? An old friend of yours?” he whispered. Astran glanced back and replied, “I have no idea. He seems like someone important.”
And of course, Narsil’s taunting didn’t go unnoticed by its intended recipient. Sona burst out in angry laughter. “You? The new Tactician for…Oslo? I won’t let you out of here in one piece!” Her mirth suddenly contorted into a blaze of utter hatred. She rushed at him and thrust her spear at his heart.
Sona ground to a halt when Flynn moved in her way.
“Oi!" he cried. "If I know anything about tactics, it’s that a tactician is the best source of information, willing or not. And if you'll notice, we’re not being attacked, so I think it’s best we take our chances for a while, considering that he might not kill us.”
For a moment, it seemed like Sona would listen.
A moment later, she tumbled to the floor, defeated, but hardly finished. “Narsil, I WILL kill you someday,” she barked. Sona got to her feet and added, “To me, his death would be better than any information he could give. The sooner he dies, the sooner Ozlo gets weaker!”
But Narsil just laughed her off. "Yes, this girl will work just fine. Ozlo could use her now. But first, I should dispose of-" His monologue was cut short by a fist to the face. "I'll take care of that," Max muttered as he slung the unconscious Narsil over his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get outta here." Solomon, Astran, and Max raced down the halls with the escapees in tow. They met little resistance along their way; they chalked it up to Astran's effective clearing work a few hours prior, but Astran would always say luck had more to do with that than anything else.
Whatever the reason for the relative lack of resistance, their group made it outside.
Looking around the Alchemist smiled as he took a deep breath. His mind finally clear of the fog which came from the prison, if but just a little, and relished in the feeling of freedom.
Look who got out brother.
Closing his eyes he exhaled as he slowly walked across the threshold of the prison into the courtyard of said place. Despite his internal thoughts telling him something felt a miss he ignored it for the time being and instead kept it quiet keeping pace with his savor's.
"So, I have to ask. Why save us and not everyone in that block. I mean if this was suppose to be an escape then why not making it more confusing to the enemy by releasing all the inmates instead of just us where they might catch on..."
Despite how he spoke in his head, the very far, dark side where his mind felt clouded a small voice kept breaking through like a whisper in the night sky. Looking around he found everything to rather clear, at the moment his for-brain was excited to see such lack of resistance, but at the same time he was careful to keep a thick eye on his surroundings.
"If I was more of a fighting man, or rather a prison warden, I would have some one out here to try and stop us. More over, the strongest guard with some gunslingers to at least pin us down and halt our progression...clearly I am just over thinking but then again this smells more like a trap. On account I don't smell my food..."
Sol dragged his sword behind him, the cost of freedom high, but rightfully so. Many joined the Order, many had the option to leave it. Those people followed a corrupt organization. Sol contemplated the deaths, felt the effect it would bring. But the light, it was so splendid. The crisp air of morning, the second time in the surface world. But as such, Sol was struck blind.
"Oh my!" he whispered, and swayed and squinted. His confusion was noticeable, and it was soon obvious that he could not follow without guidance. He used the sword like a walking stick, poking and prodding in his path. His hood was drawn over all of his eyes, so as not to permanently damage them.
"So, I have to ask:" Fos began, "Why save us and not everyone in that block? I mean, if this was supposed to be an escape, then why not make it more confusing to the enemy by releasing all the inmates instead of just us where they might catch on?"
"Because those other inmates deserved to stay in prison. Besides, it's not like the resistance was very strong. Releasing them all would have only attracted more attention from the armies of guards outside," Solomon replied.
Fos paused. "If I was more of a fighting man..." he wondered aloud, "I would have someone out here to try and stop us. Moreover, the strongest guard with some gunslingers should at least pin us down and halt our progression...I'm clearly just over-thinking. But then again, this smells more like a trap. On account of my not smelling my food."
His last comment prompted a chuckle from Solomon. "Good grief, man. You're a piece of work. Yeah, I'm not comfortable with all this silence either, but I'll take it over more violence any day." He swung onto one of the horses that were waiting for them. There were just enough for everyone to ride. "Let's get going before they spring their trap, shall we? Hyah!"
Astran and Max followed suit, each swinging onto their horses and taking after Solomon.
Horses for everyone, folks!
Looking at the creatures Fos just sighed to himself.
Grand, half ton animals that can stomp us to death and not even have a second though about it...could be worse...could be flying.
A visible sigh came from the Alchemist's mouth as he jumped, with surprising dexterity for how he looked, onto the back of the animal. It felt so strange being on the beast, after so many years sitting in a cold, dark cell.
A grim smile came across Fos' face as he looked at the Horse.
Placing his hand, with the broken sun alchemical symbol, on the side of the horse's neck the man left behind a small brand to reclam later. To anyone it would have looked like the same Broken sun seal that was on the back of his left hand, but to a Blood Alchemist they would have seen what he was doing.
With that done he looked at the others, if they had been paying attention they would have noted his skin didn't look as aged as it once did. The wounds he held from the fighting where gone and his over all mindset was returning to something of it's former self, his twisted laughing seemed to crease as well with his new found freedom.
"Well?" He asked in a more over tone, "can we just leave now? I am really getting tired of looking at this place."
As Teach advanced up towards the front, he began to look around at what little changes there were outside.
"Hm...so...who would be our benefactor in this little attempt at a power struggle? A Valentine, a Trent, or..."
He turned his face towards Trent, his face almost a glare.
"...she...a Grey. You associated yourself with a Grey."
He sighed for a moment as he looked at the artificial sun.
"Not all of them are bad, I don't think."
And he mounted the horse.
"I don't think anymore. Try it, Solomon."
The word struck a cord within Sol, and sent him into a shiver. Moving with his sword as a cane, he felt the stir of a horse as the flat of the blade lightly touched its hind leg. He made his way onto the horse, grabbing the neck and feeling slightly nauseous.
"We can only leave now, not know who has invested in us. The price is always repaid with you Knights, always returning favors or always expecting favors in return. How dizzying." Sol leaned against the horse and sheathed the sword. He fumbled for the reigns.
"Some names shouldn't be spoken for fear of the power they invoke..." He whispered beneath his breath. Memories of Titans flashed from the Echo Stone, and struggles between ancients. The scars were still fresh in his mind, despite having passed. But they were in the future as well.
Flynn sighed, and got onto the horse- And took off.
Just what where they talking about?
Flynn didn't know any Grey. Flynn didn't know a Valentine. He did know, however- That Solomon was a Trent, and that he was his father's commander.
How did he end up in jail at the same time?
And why?
Flynn grumbled, as it was apparent nobody would tell him.
(Lore that goes straight over a new character's head!)
Boan eavesdropped the conversation between Sol, Teach and the others as he intentionally rode in the middle of the group while acting normal. He was slightly disturbed by solomon's statements
""Because those other inmates deserved to stay in prison. Besides, it's not like the resistance was very strong. Releasing them all would have only attracted more attention from the armies of guards outside,"
"I hope this zealous individual do realize that a full scale prison riot can smokescreen our escape more than it will jeopardize it," Boan mumbled to himself, and as he gazed back at the tail of the group he heard Teach's words, Grey suddenly, a flashing image of an annoying, white haired brat suddenly flow through his mind, although Boan never knew such a girl, it felt as if they met before. And that is when he had a flash back at the scribbles left by the previous cellmate, the deranged bomber Saboteur.
DON'T LOOK INTO HER EYES
SHE IS POWER, SHE IS THE SOURCE OF ALL SINS AND ALL YOUR MISERIES
SHE DESTROYED MY LIFE, AND SHE WILL DO IT TO YOURS
THE ONLY WAY OUT OF THE CLOCKWORK, IS DEATH
HER GREY HAIR WILL BLOW IN THE SKY AS SHE CACKLED IN THE POOL OF YOUR BLOOD
TRUST NO ONE, I AM A PYTHON AND YOU ARE A BOA, ARE WE SNAKES? OR ARE WE MEN?
Boan swallowed his saliva and pressed on, he suddenly becomes less trustful of Astran, Max and Solomon and why shouldn't he? Rescuing a trained guard captain, an alchemist, a tactician, a vengeful son and a boy with strange power sounds more like a plan rather than an act of liberation. Something was afoot...
Haven taken off from the Prison Fos decided to do something to get his mind moving. Sitting straight up creature Fos carefully held his hands out to either side closing his eyes, letting the animal take control for a moment, following the others as it seemed to be trained.
With both arms extended he quickly slammed his hands together, eyes jutting open rather quickly. The sound of energy cracking could be heard as the crystallized blood shard he was holding seemed to meld away from it's little hiding spot in his pocket. As a result the Alchemist held in his hand a ring, nothing too special, a simple red tented ring just big enough for his middle finger, inscribed on it was a rune, the symbol of his craft.
"Hmm, it's not as big as it needs to be yet...Sad."
He said as he started to play with the newly constructed object, the craftsmanship was in need of work and it could use a polish. For what it was, crystallized blood, it wasn't something to sneeze at considering what it was used for.
Taking the reigns of the beast once more Fos grumbled as he felt a sudden pain over take him.
His hunger was starting to grow.
Horses? An odd change of pace, Sona thought as she got on hers. She had rode on horses many times before, more as a leisure activity than for war. She grabbed the reins and moved herself a little behind the middle of the group.
Sona's curiosity grew, and logically she wondered and asked the three guards, "So, now that we're out of the prison, where exactly are we going now?", hoping to get an answer from any of them. She still didn't know why she was saved and where they were headed, and a lack of knowledge makes for a weak tactician.
"So, now that we're out of prison, where are we going now, exactly?" Sona inquired.
Solomon reared up his horse and ground to a halt. He turned in the saddle to look at her. All three knights uttered together, "We are taking you to Lady Grey."
After that, they each clammed up and spoke no further on the subject.
Fos stopped and looked at the man for a moment, then the open area he could easily leave to.
"How about this, you give us one good, and I mean good, reason to stick around?"
He said as he leaned on the reigns slightly, his mind still in a fog but his for-brain was wanting some answers as well as to why they where being taken.
"I love going for a ride right after a good escape, but as it stands I am tired of being left in the dark. I want to get some light on this situation, after all we as a group deserve at least that much. Other wise we all might as well split up and go our own ways, am I right?"
"How about this: you give us one good, and I mean good, reason to stick around?" Fos asked, still groggy from the sudden adventure. The knights didn't answer him for a good half-minute.
"Because you want to stop the corruption and bloodshed as much as we do, alchemist, if for no other reason than because you hate seeing wasted food," Solomon said at last. He turned to Sol. "How you doing, kiddo? Sun too much for your eyes?"
Solomon is deliberately ignoring Flynn's question. He heard what Boan said.
Max is listening intently to the conversation.
Astran is pretending not to listen.
Fos couldn't help but crack a smile, it was true he hated seeing blood spilled that wasn't getting used. However behind his smile he had a feeling the sharks where just testing the waters. If they where going to clam up like this, why give him an excuse that pleased his gut rather then an excuse that encompass more then just himself.
Either way Fos would have more time to think on the topic after he had a proper meal, which his benefactor had better planned on. Other wise she will find some people under her charge missing there life's nectar.
Still managing to escape the place that has killed my family. I suppose that's a mark on the wall for me, an't that right...brother...
Boan nearly bursts out laughing when Solomon think Fos cared about corruption and bloodshed considering that he regards everyone near him 'meal tickets'. But he is far more skeptical by the fact that his three rescuer completely dodged Flynn's question.
"Solomo, Astran and Max," Boan thanked his rescuers, "I think this may be the beginning of a wonderful partnership."
Teach clears his throat.
"The Lady Grey...note on 'the'...is a sort of...politician. Not official or anything, but she's essentially the matriarch, last I've seen of her. Among the higher-ups, you could equate her to a kingpin or something.
Greys, especially her family, are dangerous. Ambitious. They like to try to make things right, no...more like it's a family obsession to right things the way they see it.
Though, I never thought she'd get this far."
Teach looked at the three Knights.
"Though, with you three under her guidance, I imagine she'll get as far as she wants. I trust she's still a practical lady?"
Astran turned in the saddle and glared at Teach. "Shush! Do not speak of such things in the open."
Indeed, his desire for caution might have been justified; this far along the road, there was very little activity. The wind was still, creatures were silent, and the only other sound was their footfalls. Even whispers could be heard a long way off.
If caution was actually needed for mentioning the Lady Grey...
"I'll be alright. I've not been on the surface but one other time, and the first was during the night. I much prefer the twilight of the machine, I'm sure you can understand." Sol responds, grimacing.
The mention of the Grey did little for his headache but to worsen it. Such devotion was unsightly, nigh disturbing, as not many would realize:
The Light hungers for just as much blood as the Dark. That's why they have heroes.
I stare directly into the man, eyes breaking through and into him. A Calibur, blade of a Hero, against a Dragon.
This is spectacular. My form is known.
"Death is Seen, Death is Known. What secret the Order hides now is identified in the cells. And they cannot hide us behind the division between life and death." I say, my teeth clenched as my cloak burns. Growling, I stare, and raise my sword, my Fire, against the youth.
"You cannot win, your soul has no direction. Let Fire consume you." I hiss, and run towards the man, blade held and eyes burning. But as I approach, I turn, moving past him and into the crowd of his friends. Wielding the blade, I let forth its charge of fire into the crowd, lighting it ablaze.
This man does break, and it is found within his friends and those who know his name. He will be forgotten.
"Vog," The boy whispers to the lit figure.
"Nay, though I am a Beast of a time far gone now. You know Vog, and you know I am not Him. He gave the King the path to the throne. You, Son of the Vog, will bring the ashes the Clockworks desire. In a world of immortals on two sides of a spectrum, light and dark, you must return them to ash, and feed the Clockworks the deaths it desires. Find the light, then the dark, and claim their powers in the Fire."
The fire rushes forth from the blade, and I swing again. The Echo Stone around my neck flies in front of my face, and my strength is found within its guidance. The liberation of the Order will come, and deaths will return to the Clockworks. This is mortality.;