"Algesia? Never heard of it. Here dragons are mostly annoying creatures trying to toast and kill you."Eadin says as the arrive at the beach. "Here we are."
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[Thessaloniki - The Vents]
"Someone is trying to destroy the power generators," Gaius replies as he moves in to follow behind the shape shifter. "If they succeed the city will lose it's barrier and The Legion will be able to attack. They... they've already killed all the priests."
Sure enough.
Dead priests everywhere.
Most of the wounds seem incredibly precise. Almost surgical. And at the same time... there are a few bodies that look like they were ripped apart and... eaten...
"It's probably a Wyvern. Maybe two. I... I don't know if we'll be able to kill them. But we'll have to try."
Y'know that feeling?
That feeling that something is watching you?
Stalking you?
Hunting you?
That feeling is thick in the air. As thick as the congealing pools of blood on the floor.
In the distance steam continues to hiss and machinery continues to whir.
[Thessaloniki - The Gate]
As Dippy approaches a fellow in a dark brown cloak glances back at him and grins a sly grin. "Now that looks like a man who knows his stuff if ever I've seen one. Has the illustrious leader of NO come to join our merry little quest?"
The goblin probably hasn't ever seen the guy before. Which is probably quite intentional.
[Legion Transports - Sammy and Eighty]
Explosions buffet the vehicle as it speeds along. Some further away. And some uncomfortably close. A few of the soldiers are praying. Others fiddling with their weapons. Still others sharing crude jokes in the looming face of death.
At Sam's outburst Eighty gives him a look of shock and amazement. She hasn't ever heard someone talk to a Centurion like that. Provided they aren't higher ranked to begin with. And especially not coming from a civilian. And a teenager no less.
The Centurion gives Sammy a rather disproving glare and just... sits there for a while. Ever so slowly leaning forward. Is he going to hurt Sammy? Now Eighty is all conflicted. She doesn't want her friend to be hurt. And she was just ordered to protect him. But at the same time she can't act out against a superior. She... She just can't.
Suffice to say this leaves her very confused.
And then?
Then the Centurion bursts out laughing, breaking the tense silence. "You have some trouble with authority, kid. But I can respect your spirit," he then motions to everyone in the transport. "Alright worms, listen up. Our mission is to protect the Thessaloniki Museum of History from looters during the battle and to set up for a field hospital there."
This results in a chorus of groans from the soldiers.
"Stuff it. This is just as important as any other objective. We're here as liberators. Not conquerors. As soon as the **** hits the fan looters are going to try to get their grubby hands on the priceless crap in that museum. And as a show of our good will toward the city we're going to make sure nothing is stolen. Do I make myself clear?"
"YES CENTURION!" thunders every set of lungs in the transport at once.
Meanwhile, Eighty leans in close to Sammy's ear. "Thank you for defending me. That was very brave. But... please don't contradict Centurion Antony again."
...it's probably a little weird having the Wyvern's huge snout so close to Sammy's head.
Western Beach of Vroen
"Thank-"
*WHUMP*
Oh dear, a dragon the size of an apartment building seems to have glomped the girl!
He has gleaming purple scales and seems to be licking her affectionately with his tongue.
Little one, next time don't leave without me.*
*Note: Eadin cannot hear this.
The Legion - Magclones and Smelly Hobbits
HazMag nods to the affirmative when the team gets its orders, as that horrible doom arrow of awfulness roars outside, crashing down on some other transport full of unlucky NPCs. Man, Haz is glad he wasn't with any of those guys. Poor bastards, shot down before they could even get a single shot off. The history books will probably have an easier job sorting this story out now, though. Unruly uprising shoots first, is summarily executed with extreme prejudice.
As for Marciano, HazMag just waves a hand dismissively. "You go do your tank thing, hobbit. We've our own way of doing war."
Indeed, they do. A way that largely consists of pointing Needs in the general direction of the enemy and praying that his next spell doesn't tear the bones out of anyone who isn't an enemy. It's not the best strategy, but it's gotten them this far without dying horribly, right?
[Thessaloniki - The Vents]
Nice and spooky. S'like that one film with the invisible predatory alien hunting everyone down...what was it called again?
Anyway, this really isn't a pleasant site is it? Blood and corpses everywhere. Eww. "Wyverns? Well in that case I think we can safely assume we're not going to be quick enough to save the generators."
Loud explosion sound. Any moment now. Leeh would probably be willing to bet money on it, if he was a gambling man. He's a little preoccupied keeping his fear suppressed at the moment. He wants to find the wyverns. He wants to fight the wyverns...
Leeh mumbles quietly to himself for a moment or two, keeping himself focused on his reason for being here...and not the nommed corpses around him.
While others may feel like they're being stalked, Leeh has too much confidence in his own sense for that. His eyes were designed to detect anything. No fancy wizard's invisibility spell, no hiding in the shadows, nothing is supposed to escape his vision. 'course the wyverns may use something entirely different as a means of stealth, but he doubts it.
Similarly his sense of hearing should be good enough to pick up any slight sounds someone following them would make. Should be. Might not be. How a big heavily armed and armoured stompy thing can really be silent is a bit of a mystery to him, so y'never know, maybe these wyverns are more advanced than he's expecting.
Leeh picks up the pace a little bit, figuring they should at least try and catch the wyvern(s) before they hit the generator, regardless of how doubtful he is that they'll catch them in time.
Marciano nods. Yay. More room for him! AS ya wish. Was jus' an offer. He calls out into the tranport, Oy? 'Oo 'ere is th' leader? Or are ya no' in 'ere? Apparently he had something to say. He turns to Grantaire, Oy, ye ge' th' top gun. I'll drive i'. Ok? Grantaire nods. He pulls back his sleeves exposing almost unrealisticly muscleed arms. Yay Louv're Super-steroids. tm
[The Legion - C&C Tent]
Or rather, above it if one wished to be specific. The rumbling hum of an airbike churned gradually into silence as the small craft came in for a vertical landing, it's rider making sure to be far out enough so as not to end up in any area that would likely see a lot of traffic. Would keep from giving the more inquisitive types an open chance to pick it over at least.
A pale, bald-headed woman wearing a sleek set of ceramic tactical armor hopped off the craft after securing the controls and made for the command tent; carrying what appeared to be a heavily modified firearm over one shoulder and a helmet designed for full vision range under the other. "Judging by what I saw from the air, seems like I'm late. Any chance you have any free spaces open on a transport?" the muse asked, directing her question toward the person who seemed most likely to have been delegated the task of dealing with the 'volunteers' from the Nexus.
[North Forest]
Riss gave a small shrug. It was rather hard to know where to go without knowing where 'here' was. Or how to get anywhere from wherever 'here' might be. "Don't know." she said aloud, wringing her hands as she looked about, seemingly seeking clues as to where 'out of here' was. You could just ask her. I mean, she probably knows the area better than you do. Then again, you had to use geo-tracking to find your way anywhere on foot so that isn't saying much.
Gritting her teeth for a few moments, the muse steeled herself before forcing herself to speak. "Where.. Um. The way out?" she managed to say, stumbling over the first half of her question and, rather than trying to get it right, just plowed forward to the end. Oh hey, looks like you managed to get the gist across. Now we just have to work on, oh yeah, Actually Friggen Talking without sounding like a child learning sentence structure. Is that the problem here? Are you still in your formative years? No? Then why the hell are you talking like it? Riss actually flinched outwardly from her internal castigation. Though slight, it would look as if she was reacting to a small sting.
Pond Outside Trogs
Marty is showing Trissy around the Nexus. Eventually he comes to the little pond. An old gazebo lies nearby. Marty walks into the gazebo and sits on a bench. So, you've n-never been out h-here?
She follows him, and sits about six inches away, giving him his space. She squints a bit at the brightness.
Nope. W-when the Matron let us choose where we went f-for break, we were teleported d-directly there.
She squints, but with a smile.
W-what's the big g-golden thin in the sky?
Gazebo. Of dooom!
Oh...that's the s-sun. It lights up everything. S-sometimes it goes down, causing night. A sunset is a v-very beautiful thing.
Living Gazebo
What does it look like?
Gazebo
Marty explains, It's...kinda h-hard to describe. I'll show you l-later.
Gaaaaazeeeeeebo
I've never seen something this bright before! T-Thanks for showing me the outside.
Gazebo
There's a lot m-more you know. H-hungry?
Obezag
Her eyes widen. How much more?
And yeah, I'm a little hungry.
Gazebo
There's a whole c-city h-here. I was amazed when I first g-got h-here too...what d-do you want t-to eat?
Gazebo
D-do you have curry? I t-tried it when I got up her and loved it.
Her ears turn pink a little bit, and she quickly adjusts her hair to cover them.
Gazebo
I have plenty of food. I can pull out stuff from my bag, just about anything I want appears. Can't d-do it t-too much though. You...your ears, they're pink?
[Thessaloniki - The Gate]
Dipsnig smiles wryly. My reputation precedes me. Yes, if there's any plan to infiltrate the enemy ranks and hit them where it hurts, I want in on it. He's glad to see humans have some self-preservation instinct left.
E-even though they're not red?
She pulls down her bandanna lower over her hair-covered ears.
Seriously, where'd you get it?
Th-thanks.... what's nice about it?
And no, m-my ears aren't red.
Legion Transport - Sammy and Eighty
All lungs but two. Sammy's glare never leaves the Centurion, even as the man laughs in his face. The boy doesn't flinch, nor does he look away. His hands, tanned dark from so much time in the sun, ball up into fists. Despite his anger, though, Sammy doesn't actually act against the officer.
Where he came from, armies were rarely anything more than rag-tag mercenary groups or scraped-together city guards. They were all organized, sure, but never unquestioningly so. If a soldier didn't like his force or orders, he just left.
So why isn't Eighty?
His almost motionless gaze is interrupted, however, by a whisper from Eighty. Sammy looks up, flinching back reflexively when he discovers the wyvren's massive, fanged maw inches from his face. He recovers quickly enough, though. For a while, he looks up at her with confusion in his eyes. Why didn't she fight this? She was powerful enough, she could throw him out of the truck in a heartbeat and then just fly away.
"No," he finally whispers back, matching her pitch. "He hurt you."
Thesseloniki - Inside the Vents
Straightening from her fall, Mallod stands and steps forward. She's careful to avoid disturbing the bodies of the fallen, making sure to give them plenty of room with each heavy step. As Gaius briefs her, Mallod pulls her helmet from her satchel. The visor of the helmet resembles a ferret or some other predatory rodent. Fast and strong and dangerous. It's muzzle masks her own mouth. But where it's eyes should be is simply a large and rounded hole, from which hers peer out. Two ears crest the top, perked and attentive. As she presses it into place, the ornate silver-work of her armour flashes white once. Her armour complete, Mollad reaches down and wraps her leather-gloved fingers around the hilts of the twin brass scimitars that hang from her waist. To an observer watching from the corner of his eye, they might seem to shiver at her touch. But that's probably just the heat from the vents. With a smooth movement and a low ringing noise, she slides the two serrated blades from their sheaths. All the time she keeps a look out in her surroundings, checking each corner and shadow for an enemy hiding within.
"What's a wyvren?" She'd find out soon enough, but even some advance warning would nice. The name evoked memories of the dragon-like beasts rumoured to still exist back in Spire. Great winged serpents who nested in the Ironfang Mountains. But she knew enough to know the name might mean something different, here.
Behind her, Tavish crests the window. She threads her glaive in first, letting it drop to the ground. Then she climbs in after it, dropping to the ground with a clatter of metal hitting metal. Picking her glaive up, she looks around herself at the carnage impassively.
"You hear him, Tavish?" Mollad asks.
The older ice elf nods. "The soldier can walk and explain at the same time. Let's go."
Tavish pauses only long enough to put on her own helmet. Forged in the shape of a lion's head, the beast's roaring maw opens to let her peer out. A mane of scale male hangs from the back to protect her neck, and the ears that crest it are pinned back against it's skull. Careful silverworking picks out the lines of it's fur and mane, and flashes silver as it comes into contact with her armour.
Tehsseloniki - Front Gate
The sound of warfare echoed through the air. Artillery shrieks and roars and explodes, causing the very ground to shiver. Raised voices yell indistinctly to each other. Soldiers race back and forth along the walls.
"Soon," intones Keval. The three ice elves stand in loose formation, each giving the other plenty of room to move and fight. Keval stands behind Moon Called and Sevran.
"Ready," says Moon Called. It's neither a question nor a statement of fact. Almost in unison, each of them lifts the helmets they've been carrying to their heads.
Sevran's helmet slides down. He wears the totem of a great white polar bear, it's fanged muzzle mimicking the grin that he wears underneath. A large, round hole stretches along his eyes and tucks back just behind his temples. As it falls into place, the silver working on his helmet and armour flash white. A musical sound, like bells dancing across each other, sounds out in the air and is lost amid the shriek of warfare. With his left hand, Sevran slides a longsword from it's sheath at his hip. The blade is fine and beautifully worked, veins of gold running through the steel. The hilt is a work of art, steel-gold ribbons rising up like waves from an ocean to guard his hand. In his right he holds a chakram, the hollow and bladed disk hanging from two of his fingers. "Ready," he confirms. His voice is deep and hollow inside his helmet.
Keval's helmet is lighter and lest stylized than the others. It is simple of design, protecting his head, the back of his neck and his ears. The only ornament is that of a silver eagle that rises up from the nose-guard to shield his eyes from light with it's wings. He brings his crossbow up, the wood a black so dark it doesn't seem to reflect any light. Keval runs a string across it, looping it into place and testing it to ensure the right amount of tension. It meets his finger and snaps back into place with an almost musical twang. From one of two quarrels, he places a thin bolt into the firing slot and readies it to fire. "Ready," he confirms.
Moon Called wears the heaviest helmet. She slides over her head the steel and silver face of a sabertooth tiger, it's snarling maw open to accommodate two long and thick fangs. Unlike the others, her helmet forms the complete face with it's eyes intact. The left eye, where she wears an eye-patch, is filled with steel and forged to mimic the tiger's own eye, complete with the slit pupil. The right eyeslot is set with a bright and flawless ruby. The red stone shimmers and begins to glow softly. From inside it, an enchantment grants Moon Called full awareness of her surroundings. From the harness strapped to her back, Moon Called uses both hands to pull out a wide, heavy greatsword, nearly as long as she is tall. The hilt is long enough for both her hands and a third again, with a heavy steel orb at the end to balance the sheer mass of the blade. She rests it lightly against the ground in front of her. Ready," she confirms and then switches from Common. The language she speaks has only been spoken in the Nexus a few times. It is the language of her homeland.
"Dreshella atk yukaro vess. Mikara atk yukaro vess. Tayuh vess losanah kamshul. Retayos Xun tel mara vess."
"Retayos Xun tel mara vess." "Retayos Xun tel mara vess."
[Thessaloniki - the Walls]
Zefir reloads the rocket launcher and starts aiming again.
Now that he had made some shots he has more facts for the aiming, which will increase this.
He shots another 4 rockets each aimed at another Vehicle. The first three are aimed at the first row while the last one is aimed at a vehicle in the back line.
Jakus, upon hearing a voice amidst all this, doesn't wait to find out who it is before rushing forward. any survivor is a good survivor, though Dipsnig may not appreciate his lack of caution, "Can you hear me? I'm here to help."
He'll start digging immediately, his massive hands taking away the rubble like shovels.
Legion - Slaanesh Transport
The Archon nods at the report of the weaponry. It was nothing new to the group, but it was always good to know. Pet doesn't bother with the seat belt and just lays his head down on Razorfang's lap, sighing happily when she stroked his shoulder. At the Wyvern's comment, he opens one eye and smiles slightly. "That was just dancing. It was only to teach a lesson, not hurt."
With that, he closes his eyes and slumbers peacefully.
Until one of Zefir's missiles hits the engine block and causes the vehicle to flip in a fiery explosion.
(Godmod approved)
Edge of the Battlefield
A pair of long black ants, about 2 inches in length, come down on gossamer wings, settling on the ground as they watch the action.
Above the Sea
"Well, the reef was just a landmark on the treasure map. There's an underwater cove nearby if you'd like to be of assistance." He offers with a grin when he turns to her. "I'll make it worth your while."
Eadin frowns some more. The weird captain sure is bad for her attempt not to get wrinkles. Oh well.
"Guess that depends what the treasure is, and how dangerous this little excursion is."
Eadin stares at the dragon for a while. Then some more.
"Eep?"
That's a big one."That your dragon?"