Lords of Creation - What Shall Be (IC)

[planswalker]

I'm Inanna! Blue guy was right though. You're all stiff. You should loosen up and chill. Pity. You're not even cute... just like, light and stuff.

Unable to figure out how to respond to this jovial goddess, Solaron says nothing for now, although the light shining from his mantle turned magenta for a moment in confusion.

Drofiel's Airship, borders of Conviction

"Right then, commander. One moment."

Grabbing a voice-piece from a nearby wall, he spoke into it with a calm, commanding voice.

"Attention crew-members: at the courtesy of our angelic friends, we may now move through the dimensional barrier separating us from home... in other words, this bloody road trip is just about over."

As this echoes through the confines of the dirigible, muffled cheering can be heard through the walls. Drofiel simply smirks and carries on.

"So, lets rev up those engines, get our props revved up, and set out to Progress on the double! We're going home girls and boys! Now, some nasty scumbags think they can just trash our homeland... what do you say we bring some fire and thunder eh? Man the point-defenses, and move out!"

With a flurry of activity, the massive airship groaned to life, whirring propellers accelerating the seemingly ungainly craft to a pace that would impress even the angelic legions. After looking out a window to ensure that everything was was in order, he turned back to Michrael, still smiling and obviously happy to be doing something.

"Well, if if you're looking to learn, one thing you'll find is that the fine folks of the Alliance are always happy to teach. And if things are half as bad as your reports made them out to be... well, let's start our lessons now, shall we? Lesson one... air superiority."

The commander's grin widened and gestured at a powerful ack-ack gun being wheeled into place behind a closed hatch.

"Which roughly translates as... Fallen fly fast."

"Bullets fly faster."

Michrael - ocean between Conviction and Progress

"I will have to keep that one in mind. It's possible that some of this technology can be adapted to allow the aasimars to serve as a heavy line of defense and mobile fortification. I will have to look into this more once the Fallen have been Redeemed."

[Jeriah]

Unable to figure out how to respond to this jovial goddess, Solaron says nothing for now, although the light shining from his mantle turned magenta for a moment in confusion.

Hey, pops, lighten up. Let's bring some life into this dull place, yeah? Ya with me?

[planswalker]

Hey, pops, lighten up. Let's bring some life into this dull place, yeah? Ya with me?

Solaron - the Void

"I do not think I fully understand what you mean by 'dull', but I am willing to learn from you."

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I hope you're okay with how Solaron is responding, but he just doesn't understand parties, yet. However, as a god who draws strength from joy, he'll be all for it once he experiences it.

[Shmee]

The Moon

Following the devastating events which resulted from first the fight and then the following death of the Freiherr, four figures carefully come out of the mansion where they had been hiding.

"Is... it over?"

"It would definitely seem that way. So... is that it? Is he really gone?"

"Mmmmph..... mmI mmmguezz mmmsoo..."

"You do realize... now that the Freiherr is gone... we automatically inherit all his worldly possessions... after all, what use has he of it now?"

"Mmmmgreat mmmidea!"

"After all, we have been his most loyal servants... its only fair that we are properly rewarded!"

"I get all of his paintings!"

"Keep your paintings, I claim dibs on his collection of weapons.."

"You shall do no such thing!"

"Huh?"

"Why not?"

"Do you not remember what the Freiherr said? He shall indeed return. When has death ever been more than a nuisance to one like him? He is a man of his word, and he shall indeed one day return, and as he promised, when he does, he shall be the death of this world. So come now... let us make sure that his mansion is in proper order for his return."

The Genasi, Fury

The Conclave's invasion of Fury had been defeated, thanks to the Genasi's secret weapon, the Fist of Fury, but at a great cost. But what mattered was that the Genasi had not only scored a victory against the Conclave, but they had also managed to kill a god. Just as they were busy trying to clean up the aftermath of the invasion, Fury, along with most of the rest of the world, was battered by the fight between the Elder gods. Destruction rained hard on Fury, as Genasi turned into Clownborn and went insane.

As a result of this catastrophe, the Premier himself had turned Clownborn, and thus since he was unfit to command the nation, in accordance to the Constitution of the UGGC, since the nation was still in a state of emergency, the surviving military leaders had assumed command, until such time that the emergency was over and the Marcosit party would pick candidates for elections.

It had been one outrage after another for the Genasi, one massacre after another. The gods showed no remorse about their actions, and that was quite understandable, as they were petty, cruel and conniving creatures, but just as worse, were the mortals who followed them blindly. They clinged onto their dogma with zeal, refusing to open their eyes and witness the hypocritical nature of the gods, even falling as low as to kiss up to them, even as they rained destruction on the world. The Genasi would not tolerate this.

Going deep into the underground complex which was the Seat of the Elements, built long ago by the tyrannical Lords of the Elements, the Genasi had found ancient text abandoned by the Lords when they fled Fury after the revolution. These text dating aeons back, recalled the cataclysmic fight between the Freiherr and the Faeli hero Nedain. It was during the early days of the world, that mortal fought against god and won... and it would seem that once again, the world cried out for vengeance against the divine ones. Once again, a mortal shall have to rise up to bring the fight against the hateful gods.

Thus it was, with this knowledge, that the Genasi began to train their own. The text they found had horrifying accounts of the Freiherr's action, his curses and his fondness for the manipulation of souls, and they intended to use this horrible knowledge to their advantage. It was so, that in honour of the Faeli who had at the expense of her own life killed a god, did the Genasi construct a building, where the Godslayers would train to bring vengeance on the divine ones. Having gone through great lengths to steal Nedain's Horns from her tomb from faraway Hope, they honoured her sacrifice by placing them almost in reverence in the main hall of the Shrine of the Twisted Horns.

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AP0= 2-2, Create Organization, + Prestige Class, Godslayers

[Selinia]

NNHIS Citizen Militia Squadron, Vallan Airspace

At these altitudes, the air was silent apart from the slashing wind and the dull thrum of the propellers as the twenty-some aircraft soared high above the Vallan countryside. Which isn't to say the pilots weren't paying attention - far from it, they were coming up on their destination and were expecting orders any moment now.

They weren't a proper Alliance squadron - not technically. On paper, they were a group of private citizens in the employ of the New National Heavy Industry Society, acting under the Citizen's Defense act (which authorized civilians to use available military hardware in the event of a shortage of troops). In truth, as the test-pilots and troubleshooters of the company, they were probably some of the most experienced fliers in Progress, and they were flying some of the most advanced aircraft available.

So when the radio crackled to life at last, Iean found himself less frightened than one might expect, given that he was going to be engaging in a life-or-death battle with the Fallen in just a few minutes. Mostly, just excitement to finally be flying into a real fight.

"...read me? Flight team cyan, do you read, over?"

Grabbing his radio, Iean gave his response amidst the flurry of radio acknowledgments.

"Cyan six, I read you control, over."

"Good, good. Okay Cyan, get you weapons at the ready - your ETA to the combat zone is five to ten minutes. Also, the suits want me to remind you that you're flying prototypes - the Naussica II isn't technically in production yet. So remember - be careful, and remember your briefings. Keep your range - they can out-maneuver you, but you can our-speed and out-range them enough that it shouldn't matter if you fly smart."

"And no heroics people. You just need to take the pressure off the ground for a few minutes... Vallan army is rolling in some anti-air guns, who'll mop up after you. Good luck girls and boys. Over."

As soon as ground control died out, another voice rang through the speakers.

"Right then team, this is Cyan Leader speaking..."

"We recognize your voice Sammi. Don't you go "Cyan Leader"-ing us."

"... this is Cyan Leader speaking... seriously, get a hold of yourself people. You heard the boss, we're here to cause some ruckus and buy time for the ground crews. The way I see it, those of you lucky enough to have snagged a II ought to hold back..."

"What? What is this rubbish Sam? You know perfectly well..."

"Ought to hold back initially. Our Is are a lot less maneuverable, but we're still faster than those Fallen. So we'll move in first as bait, then the IIs should follow and pick them off of us. We'll have to work as a team - those things can turn on a dime, and their swords, as ridiculous as they may be, can really mess up our planes if we let them."

"Enemy sighted! That's... a lot of Fallen."

"Okay, keep it together people. Move in, watch yourself, and we'll all get out of this. Flight team cyan, move in!"

Drofiel's Airship, Vallan Airspace

"Well well... would you look at that? Looks like we're late to the party here..."

Though a metal panel had been slid into place over the massive glass walls that pervaded many of the luxurious rooms on the aircraft, the main deck provided as magnificent a view as always... currently displaying the conflict between Alliance aircraft and the swarm of Fallen.

"Let's see... those are NNHIS craft... where's the actual army - oh, wait, there they are."

Drofiel raised his eyebrows slightly as streams of tracers began streaking into the tight clumps of Fallen, cutting dozens of them to ribbons. Still...

"They can't win like that. Oh, sure, they're not taking any casualties, but there are hundreds of Fallen, and those Naussicas can't stay airborne forever... and that's ignoring ammo. I'd guess those pilots are counting shots by now. And when the skies are clear, there will be nothing to stop the AA batteries from being dive-bombed and overrun. Another lesson for you - combined arms is powerful, but when one piece collapses... the whole structure of the battle can fall down around it."

"Well... it looks like its up to us to make sure that doesn't happen. We're not losing a second city to the Fallen... one was bad enough. Unfortunately, this ship really isn't built for front line combat... we may be able to patrol the edges with our guns, but we'll go down in seconds if we close in. And for all my... skills... I cannot fight an army alone."

"So... It seems that this may come down to whatever aid you can give us. I must confess, I am not entirely sure what you are capable of... obviously the best solution would be just causing them all to die, but that's probably a bit much to ask... gott, this is frustrating... the key to winning this battle is controlling the air, but our air forces are extremely limited. We have a heavy ground presence, but our guns can't withstand an assault without air support. And worst of all, our fliers are running low on gas and ammo."

"Unless..."

"I cannot defeat an army, but if you take the field with me, we may be able to hold them off for a short time. If we can buy the NNHIS forces fifteen minutes to refuel at the local airfield, we could then regroup with them and smash this force to itty-bitty pieces. In theory."

"So... what say you, Michrael? Do you think you can resist the taint long enough to fight this battle? This is the largest collection of Fallen remaining in Progress... if we break them here, the army and air force can clean up the rest."

As he awaits an answer, Drofiel carefully fixes his bayonet and double-checks the action on his gun. When the battle was joined, he would be ready.

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OOC: Since the Fallen are yours, it seems only fair to let you get first shot at them.

Anyway, this is just an opportunity for Michrael to do... whatever he's going to do. You can have him join the fight directly (in which case Drofiel is just a few steps behind him) or you can have him pull his godly shenanigans... or whatever you prefer.

[planswalker]

NNHIS Citizen Militia Squadron, Vallan Airspace

At these altitudes, the air was silent apart from the slashing wind and the dull thrum of the propellers as the twenty-some aircraft soared high above the Vallan countryside. Which isn't to say the pilots weren't paying attention - far from it, they were coming up on their destination and were expecting orders any moment now.

They weren't a proper Alliance squadron - not technically. On paper, they were a group of private citizens in the employ of the New National Heavy Industry Society, acting under the Citizen's Defense act (which authorized civilians to use available military hardware in the event of a shortage of troops). In truth, as the test-pilots and troubleshooters of the company, they were probably some of the most experienced fliers in Progress, and they were flying some of the most advanced aircraft available.

So when the radio crackled to life at last, Iean found himself less frightened than one might expect, given that he was going to be engaging in a life-or-death battle with the Fallen in just a few minutes. Mostly, just excitement to finally be flying into a real fight.

"...read me? Flight team cyan, do you read, over?"

Grabbing his radio, Iean gave his response amidst the flurry of radio acknowledgments.

"Cyan six, I read you control, over."

"Good, good. Okay Cyan, get you weapons at the ready - your ETA to the combat zone is five to ten minutes. Also, the suits want me to remind you that you're flying prototypes - the Naussica II isn't technically in production yet. So remember - be careful, and remember your briefings. Keep your range - they can out-maneuver you, but you can our-speed and out-range them enough that it shouldn't matter if you fly smart."

"And no heroics people. You just need to take the pressure off the ground for a few minutes... Vallan army is rolling in some anti-air guns, who'll mop up after you. Good luck girls and boys. Over."

As soon as ground control died out, another voice rang through the speakers.

"Right then team, this is Cyan Leader speaking..."

"We recognize your voice Sammi. Don't you go "Cyan Leader"-ing us."

"... this is Cyan Leader speaking... seriously, get a hold of yourself people. You heard the boss, we're here to cause some ruckus and buy time for the ground crews. The way I see it, those of you lucky enough to have snagged a II ought to hold back..."

"What? What is this rubbish Sam? You know perfectly well..."

"Ought to hold back initially. Our Is are a lot less maneuverable, but we're still faster than those Fallen. So we'll move in first as bait, then the IIs should follow and pick them off of us. We'll have to work as a team - those things can turn on a dime, and their swords, as ridiculous as they may be, can really mess up our planes if we let them."

"Enemy sighted! That's... a lot of Fallen."

"Okay, keep it together people. Move in, watch yourself, and we'll all get out of this. Flight team cyan, move in!"

Unfortunately for the civilian volunteer air squadron, they had forgotten one very critical part of an angel's arsenal.

Magic.

It should not surprise the hypothetical observer of this battle that the saerites had neglected to counteract this detail. They themselves had no magic, and the Fallen do not wantomly use the powers that they do possess unless forced to do so.

However, the Fallen, as all other angels, are beings made from the very fabric of a divine plane. Magic is their essence and nature as much as the genasi are elemental.

When the faster aerial assault began, the Fallen continued to use their standard tactic of trying to destroy them in melee combat.

However, when the airships evaded engagement for the most part, they changed tactics. The paragons regrouped their squadrons away from the city for a moment, and then regrouped.

As Drofiel was preaching to the god of War about combat techniques that he already knew, the Fallen were implementing it.

They knew that they were not as fast or as long-ranged with their swords as the Saerites were with their guns and aircraft. Something the saerites did not have in superiority though, was magic.

An angel's sword is really a decorative relic more than a practical weapon. Like a medal on a mortal military uniform, it had symbolic significance more than it contributed to the units' combat effectiveness. The true weapons of angels is their inherent magics than none can take away from them.

The Fallen as one sheathed their swords, and began casting spells onto the ground below and the aircraft above.

The avorals and trumpet archons gave the aerial assault forces significant problems with utilizing their speed. The avoral chanted incantations to cause the wind to blow opposite the direction of the aircraft, slowing them down while simultaneously making it more difficult to aim. If a squadron of avorals managed to approach within a few dozen yards of an aircraft, multiple lightning blasts would wrack the craft as they let up on the winds to assault the craft.

The trumpet archons' tactics were less direct, but if anything, even more terrible. They began enchanting themselves and each other with powerful wards, which not only aided in deflecting the incoming fire, but also speeded up recovery from any wounds sustained. Any aircraft that approached withing 250 feet would similarly find themselves struck by magical energies. However, unlike the avorals, the trumpet archons spells took the form of pillars of fire.

The NNHIS would now get to be the first Saerites to learn empirically what it meant for the Fallen to use magic.

While two of the five major echelons of angels harrassed the incoming dogfighters, the remaining three disappeared. To the Saerite's confusion, the Fallen made odd gestures, then simply vanished from sight. Where the solars, planetars, and astral devas that had fallen were was unknown.

Drofiel's Airship, Vallan Airspace

"Well well... would you look at that? Looks like we're late to the party here..."

Though a metal panel had been slid into place over the massive glass walls that pervaded many of the luxurious rooms on the aircraft, the main deck provided as magnificent a view as always... currently displaying the conflict between Alliance aircraft and the swarm of Fallen.

"Let's see... those are NNHIS craft... where's the actual army - oh, wait, there they are."

Drofiel raised his eyebrows slightly as streams of tracers began streaking into the tight clumps of Fallen, cutting dozens of them to ribbons. Still...

"They can't win like that. Oh, sure, they're not taking any casualties, but there are hundreds of Fallen, and those Naussicas can't stay airborne forever... and that's ignoring ammo. I'd guess those pilots are counting shots by now. And when the skies are clear, there will be nothing to stop the AA batteries from being dive-bombed and overrun. Another lesson for you - combined arms is powerful, but when one piece collapses... the whole structure of the battle can fall down around it."

"Well... it looks like its up to us to make sure that doesn't happen. We're not losing a second city to the Fallen... one was bad enough. Unfortunately, this ship really isn't built for front line combat... we may be able to patrol the edges with our guns, but we'll go down in seconds if we close in. And for all my... skills... I cannot fight an army alone."

"So... It seems that this may come down to whatever aid you can give us. I must confess, I am not entirely sure what you are capable of... obviously the best solution would be just causing them all to die, but that's probably a bit much to ask... gott, this is frustrating... the key to winning this battle is controlling the air, but our air forces are extremely limited. We have a heavy ground presence, but our guns can't withstand an assault without air support. And worst of all, our fliers are running low on gas and ammo."

"Unless..."

"I cannot defeat an army, but if you take the field with me, we may be able to hold them off for a short time. If we can buy the NNHIS forces fifteen minutes to refuel at the local airfield, we could then regroup with them and smash this force to itty-bitty pieces. In theory."

"So... what say you, Michrael? Do you think you can resist the taint long enough to fight this battle? This is the largest collection of Fallen remaining in Progress... if we break them here, the army and air force can clean up the rest."

As he awaits an answer, Drofiel carefully fixes his bayonet and double-checks the action on his gun. When the battle was joined, he would be ready.

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OOC: Since the Fallen are yours, it seems only fair to let you get first shot at them.

Anyway, this is just an opportunity for Michrael to do... whatever he's going to do. You can have him join the fight directly (in which case Drofiel is just a few steps behind him) or you can have him pull his godly shenanigans... or whatever you prefer.

Michrael and Drofiel - the Airship

Michrael seemed rather irritated at the moment. "Drofiel, please do not presume to lecture to me again on the theories and mannerisms of war and aerial combat. I am a god of WAR! Aevum's troops may have actually used their swords in combat as their primary means of assault, but the new Legions are not the backwards things of your day. I have spoken with and learned at length from Hex, the being that controls the Solar Ring. I know much of the technology that is used there."

"We do in fact have quite a bit more intellect than your arrogant tones would suggest. Our tactical efforts have not been often seen because they have not needed to have been seen. We have allowed the outside world to believe that we attack all of our problems head-on and have little in the way of tactical acuity to deliberately lure them in to a false sense of arrogance. We have not spend centuries merely practicing sword drills. I in fact know and have trained my soldiers in many varied and diverse tactics, and now that the Saerites are beginning to pose a serious threat to them, the Fallen are beginning to use their training to accomplish their goals instead of being lazy and using physical combat."

"As for what I shall do, you apparently do not understand what I meant by the dangers of me Falling. I am the God-General of the Celestial Legions, both Fallen and Whole. Should I fall, I have the power to sink this continent beneath the waves. While they may not be inclined to follow the standing order of the Legions, they cannot resist the Oaths they have taken. Should I command it directly, they have to surrender and allow themselves to be killed. Thus is the basis of my power over them. This is the manifestation of my godhood. However, doing so unprepared will likely cause me to lose the struggle against the Curse myself. I need to prepare and meditate for a little while before I know that I can safely bare my soul before the Fallen. Please have the Saerites stall for time."

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my plan will need the rollover's ap. stalling until then.

[Jeriah]

Solaron - the Void

"I do not think I fully understand what you mean by 'dull', but I am willing to learn from you."

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I hope you're okay with how Solaron is responding, but he just doesn't understand parties, yet. However, as a god who draws strength from joy, he'll be all for it once he experiences it.

As in boring, lifeless. Dang, old man. Get with it already!

Look, I'm gonna go start a party. If you aren't too lame, you can come by later. Cool with that? Yeah, you know you are. Ciao!

With that, she poofs away back to Planet in a cloud of rainbow glitter.

Inanna, Planet

How dreary...

Perhaps with a little light, a little color, perhaps a little music...

Inanna waves her hands, and a grand mansion springs into existence. From within, the sounds of loud music can be heard. Bright, multicolored lights emanate from the windows, and a pleasing atmosphere fills the air.

Nice. Of course, those loser gnomes did have one good idea...

As she beats her wings and lifts off into the air, so too does the mansion.

Now, to get the snacks and invite the guests.

Spoiler

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AP 18 = 20 - 1 (Mold Land - Create the mansion) - 3 (Create Artifact - The Endless Party: Pestilence) + 2 (Rollover)

[Selinia]

Drofiel's Airship, Contested Airspace

"Well... I'm certain time can indeed be bought. So the fallen retain their spellcasting powers... we'd wondered about that. Really, there's so much we don't know about them - this is proving to be most informative."

The angel chuckled, completely unfazed by the General's annoyance.

"Please, no offense was meant. You have me though when it comes to your techniques. Alliance military doctrine has changed so much in just the last few years as to be completely unrecognizable. It was foolish to think your army would be any different."

"Now... if you are going to need time that our flier cannot buy... ach, I was hoping to not have to resort to this, but I'm not letting those pilots get killed by political correctness. Give me a moment to make a call..."

Moving swiftly to the call-center, Drofiel dialed a number. After a few minutes of incomprehensible code-exchanging, he appears to have reached the contact in question.

"Yes... ah, so you've been informed already? Excellent. So, what do you think? Could you do this?"

The response from the speaker set is seeming gibberish - a sort of watery gurgling. But Drofiel nodded in assent as it come through, obviously understanding.

"Clop gtagh. Fgthelgth uthglogoth drelk cwulp slewk evta norkrul?"

"Yes, yes... the agreement isn't technically in effect yet. But as you said, this is simple for you... think of it a a good-faith gesture. We gave you the suits and guns, its time you started carrying your share."

"...gwulp. Bregtel nokggle skelk resloogu nogpplun wulkenfden. Jwaseld vwegon bacrulz iksgelm blentag recolpenvowmp. Erwmpleskak gwulp."

"Excellent. Come as soon as you are able."

Sighing, Drofiel returned his attention to Michrael.

"Gott, they can give you headaches over the radio. There has to be a way to weaponize that... anyway, we've got a fail-safe now. I'll be taking the field, and I'll work with the air force to try and stall for time. You do your meditation thing... just try make things reasonably fast. The thought of owing the calamari really puts me off... still, beggars can't be choosers, eh?"

Smirking slightly, the commander of Pinnacle disembarked via the nearest window, winging his way towards the dogfight to make good on his promise and trusting Michrael to keep to his.

************************

Whirling about to meet yet another assault, the avenging angel couldn't help but feel a trace of frustration. All the Naussica Is had already fallen back from lack of ammo, and most of the IIs were running dangerously low. This put him in the unenviable position of being forced to deal with a dozen or more combatants simultaneously... his heavily abjured armor helped, of course, but swords still hurt if they came down right. And...

[You should have a little more faith, friend...]

Almost as one, the heads of the half-dozen fallen surrounding him exploded in a shower of gore. Free to gather his wits once more, Drofiel steeled his mind for the upcoming conversation and replied.

"Well, you've certainly kept me waiting long enough. And they sent... six of you. Wonderful."

[Quality over quantity. You should know that better than anyone.]

"Of course, of course... looks like you panicked some of the fallen. I know some gnomes are working on a way to stay invisible while executing other actions, but you seem to have it down quite well on your own."

[Of course. But... this banter is rather ill-advised, no? For you at least. The'll regroup any second now.]

"Uh-huh. And I guess I can expect more exploding heads?"

[But of course! It's what we do best, after all...]

Snapping in yet another clip and taking a second to re-secure his bayonet, the angel sped, laughing madly, straight into the heart of the Fallen formation, gunning down those in front of him and leaving a trail of headless corpses in his wake.

Michrael would have his time.

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OOC: When in doubt, exploding heads are always the answer.

Always.

Well at least, the answer with the most exploding heads...

[planswalker]

As in boring, lifeless. Dang, old man. Get with it already!

Look, I'm gonna go start a party. If you aren't too lame, you can come by later. Cool with that? Yeah, you know you are. Ciao!

With that, she poofs away back to Planet in a cloud of rainbow glitter.

Inanna, Planet

How dreary...

Perhaps with a little light, a little color, perhaps a little music...

Inanna waves her hands, and a grand mansion springs into existence. From within, the sounds of loud music can be heard. Bright, multicolored lights emanate from the windows, and a pleasing atmosphere fills the air.

Nice. Of course, those loser gnomes did have one good idea...

As she beats her wings and lifts off into the air, so too does the mansion.

Now, to get the snacks and invite the guests.

Spoiler

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AP 18 = 20 - 1 (Mold Land - Create the mansion) - 3 (Create Artifact - The Endless Party: Pestilence) + 2 (Rollover)

Solaron - the Void

As the goddess left, Solaron was left to think for a while. Have I truly become boring? He wonders. He returns to Conviction and shapes for himself a large tower in the center of the jungle. He then rests within it and shines as a beacon, giving hope and joy and light to the kobolds below.

He then considered the young goddess' invitation. Since he did not know of a new plane having been formed, he assumes that this party must take place on Planet. It has been a long time since he grew too powerful to enter Planet directly. He did mean to learn from this young, energetic goddess what a "party" was. Thus, he decided that he must find a way to have a portion of himself enter Planet.

He concentrated an effort of will, and formed a new image for himself and made it manifest before him. His new form would house his mind while his powers remained behind to illuminate Conviction and grant peace to its inhabitants.


with his new body, he entered Hope, at the edge of the desert, and began to walk around.

Although his new body did not have the power within it that his true form did, there would be none who could doubt that this was a god. His powerful form was unlike anything else in existence. It hearkened somewhat to his brother's dragon creations, it had only one pair of limbs and was wingless.

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Now to find that "party" he thought to himself.

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ap:

Solaron: 2=0+5(rollover)-3(avatar: the gold dragon)
Solkiran: 1=0+4(rollover)-3(Avatar: the dark dragon)

Solkiran is a part of Solaron's mind, and thus is with him in the avatar. I'm going ahead now and creating the avatar as them both. When Solkiran is in command, the dragon turns balck and is all evil-looking.

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Drofiel's Airship, Contested Airspace

"Well... I'm certain time can indeed be bought. So the fallen retain their spellcasting powers... we'd wondered about that. Really, there's so much we don't know about them - this is proving to be most informative."

The angel chuckled, completely unfazed by the General's annoyance.

"Please, no offense was meant. You have me though when it comes to your techniques. Alliance military doctrine has changed so much in just the last few years as to be completely unrecognizable. It was foolish to think your army would be any different."

"Now... if you are going to need time that our flier cannot buy... ach, I was hoping to not have to resort to this, but I'm not letting those pilots get killed by political correctness. Give me a moment to make a call..."

Moving swiftly to the call-center, Drofiel dialed a number. After a few minutes of incomprehensible code-exchanging, he appears to have reached the contact in question.

"Yes... ah, so you've been informed already? Excellent. So, what do you think? Could you do this?"

The response from the speaker set is seeming gibberish - a sort of watery gurgling. But Drofiel nodded in assent as it come through, obviously understanding.

"Clop gtagh. Fgthelgth uthglogoth drelk cwulp slewk evta norkrul?"

"Yes, yes... the agreement isn't technically in effect yet. But as you said, this is simple for you... think of it a a good-faith gesture. We gave you the suits and guns, its time you started carrying your share."

"...gwulp. Bregtel nokggle skelk resloogu nogpplun wulkenfden. Jwaseld vwegon bacrulz iksgelm blentag recolpenvowmp. Erwmpleskak gwulp."

"Excellent. Come as soon as you are able."

Sighing, Drofiel returned his attention to Michrael.

"Gott, they can give you headaches over the radio. There has to be a way to weaponize that... anyway, we've got a fail-safe now. I'll be taking the field, and I'll work with the air force to try and stall for time. You do your meditation thing... just try make things reasonably fast. The thought of owing the calamari really puts me off... still, beggars can't be choosers, eh?"

Smirking slightly, the commander of Pinnacle disembarked via the nearest window, winging his way towards the dogfight to make good on his promise and trusting Michrael to keep to his.

************************

Whirling about to meet yet another assault, the avenging angel couldn't help but feel a trace of frustration. All the Naussica Is had already fallen back from lack of ammo, and most of the IIs were running dangerously low. This put him in the unenviable position of being forced to deal with a dozen or more combatants simultaneously... his heavily abjured armor helped, of course, but swords still hurt if they came down right. And...

[You should have a little more faith, friend...]

Almost as one, the heads of the half-dozen fallen surrounding him exploded in a shower of gore. Free to gather his wits once more, Drofiel steeled his mind for the upcoming conversation and replied.

"Well, you've certainly kept me waiting long enough. And they sent... six of you. Wonderful."

[Quality over quantity. You should know that better than anyone.]

"Of course, of course... looks like you panicked some of the fallen. I know some gnomes are working on a way to stay invisible while executing other actions, but you seem to have it down quite well on your own."

[Of course. But... this banter is rather ill-advised, no? For you at least. The'll regroup any second now.]

"Uh-huh. And I guess I can expect more exploding heads?"

[But of course! It's what we do best, after all...]

Snapping in yet another clip and taking a second to re-secure his bayonet, the angel sped, laughing madly, straight into the heart of the Fallen formation, gunning down those in front of him and leaving a trail of headless corpses in his wake.

Michrael would have his time.

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OOC: When in doubt, exploding heads are always the answer.

Always.

Well at least, the answer with the most exploding heads...

Michrael - the Airship

Michrael was deep in meditation as the battle raged on outside. He was learning to accept his now dual nature and readying himself to confront the Fallen.

The battle outside

As the avorals and trumpet archon Fallen begin to be beaten back, the other three angel legions make their re-appearance.

On the ground. They have landed in the city below and have taken refuge in the building within. They are killing the inhabitants of the city with abandon, leaving their comrades in the air to fight the losing battle for the air.

The Fallen knew they were beaten, but they were determined to take the city down wtih them.

When the last of the Fallen in the skies above was slain, the ones on the ground below unleashed their most terrible spells. As one, the angels sent forth death. The young died immediately, without even a chance to resist. The more experienced among the adult population was able to resist the curse, and were left drained. The death toll was uncountable.

The Fallen then went out onto the streets and began to kill and destroy everything in their path.

Joining the Fight

At last, having reached a state of inner peace that allows him to love and forgive those who have Fallen, Michrael is ready.

He leaves the Airship and sees the destruction below. He prays a silent prayer to Solaron to forgive the evils that were just committed.

Then, just as in Fury, he multiplies his form to colossal proportions.

"Fallen! Hear your master command you! You are to lay down all arms and cease all spellcasting. Allow the Saerite army to Purify you. This is a direct order, invoking the power of your Oath!"

Having given his message, Michrael reverts to his normal size, just over 15 feet tall. He now glows with a crimsom light that bespeaks his unlocking of his true power. No longer does he try to pretend to be a creator-mortal. He has come to accept his true divine nature. With that acceptance, he now has transcended the Freihrr's curse. It was a curse upon mortal angels, and he has left behind all traces of that mortality. He now truly was the god-general of the Celestial Legions.

The Fallen, unable to resist their general's direct command, do as ordered.

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ap:

Michrael: 0=0+3(rollover)-3(evolve)
Solkiran: 0=1-1(pestilence the Saerite city with the destruction of the Fallen, 1/4 of the city's population dead, mostly the young)

As I mentioned in the OOC, the Fallen get their spells from Solkiran. Thus, the blight-level death is being subtracted from his ap.

[Selinia]

Drofiel's Airship, Vallan Airspace

"Incredible... a Spark, brought to bear with its full power..."

The moment the divine general opened his mouth, the battle was over. There were still shots being fired, but the Fallen simply stood and allowed themselves to be struck down. It was simple clean up... or to put it more crudely, butchery.

His role in the battle was finished... now came the aftermath, which he suspected would be much trickier. Calling his allies to his side, he worked his way towards his airship, where Michrael had been seen descending as he shrugged off his divine stature.

Coming to rest before the general, Drofiel sighed heavily and spoke.

"Magnificent work, Michreal... utterly magnificent. For all our science, we simply cannot replicate the power of a Spark such as yours. At least, not yet... I have full confidence that such myteries will be stripped away in time. In any case, I think you ought to meet the ones who made this possible. Ix? You should un-cloak now, the threat is gone."

[Of course.]

The words were oddly flat - it would take an observer a moment to realize that there was no actual sound, and the phrasing was purely in their head. On cue, six figures materialized on the bridge. They were humanoid... more or less... with oddly gaunt limbs and unsettling proportions. Their garb - a rubbery, ribbed black material that clung to their body like a second skin - was unfamiliar, but anyone who was once named among the Host of Dawn would recognize the distinctive squid-like head, despite the milky white eyes being hidden behind thick black goggles.

[Hello, Commander Michrael. I am Ixlograwfel... do not attempt to pronounce it, trust me, you can't with your vocal arrangement. You may call me Ix. I speak for my compatriots here, whose names you really have no need to know. I do not believe we have met before... I must confess, my prior dealings with your species have been less than cordial.]

The creature flicked a tentacle in what might have approximated a smirk, but did not elaborate further. It seemed to believe its speaking role to be concluded with its introduction. Coughing slightly, Drofiel picked up the slack.

"Now, I understand that our people have had their disagreements, but they are allies, of a sort. It was an idea of some of our Dark Faeli members, and negotiations have been proceeding smoothly so far..."

The normally loquacious commander trailed off uncomfortably, attempting to gauge the reactions of the two parties. The Ithilids seemed to be viewing the situation with the same casual disintrist they always carried with them, but Michrael...

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OOC: AGH! Sorry for the short post. And the lateness of it. I have other plotlines I want to work on, but not keeping you waiting is the most inportant thing right now. Hopefully I can pick things up again tomorrow.

Anyway, couldn't go much further without know how Mike is going to react to a bunch of mind flayers showing up out of nowhere...

[Selinia]

The Solar Ring, Central Control Chamber

"...good, good... just... yes, please continue repairs in those sections, Aquarius has priority, we need to restore our food processes as soon as we can... thank you, goodbye."

Switching off the comm-link and falling back into her seat, Klashanna took a moment to compose herself before reaching to bring up the next caller. Her gambit with the Shining Heart had been successful, yes... but it had drained her severely. She had opened herself to channel the raw essence of another god, and had burned her own essence quite badly in doing so. Manipulating the energies as she had done was a feat roughly equivalent to using jumper cables to make a corpse waltz.

She was about to take another call - this one from a team working to elicit repairs of the Shining Heart's focus chamber - when a voice stopped her.

"Umm... Neesama? Can we... talk?"

Klashanna felt a pang of worry at the hesitant murmur that had replaced Datamine's usual confident blare, and got up to move to her herald's side.

"Data? Of course we can talk... what's wrong?"

A hint of her usual smirk crept back onto her face, but it quickly died away as the herald responded.

"So, I'd only come to talk to you if something's wrong? That's... okay, sorry... I didn't mean that... I... Ne-... Klashanna, I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can run the Ring like Hex did. He... was the Ring. He could be in a dozen places at once, doing a dozen things at a time. I'm just... me."

The herald made a gesture encompassing her body.

"I haven't slept in four days. The Ring keeps me charged, but... I feel tired. Not my body, but my brain just feels like it's being cooked by the constant data flow. And every time I plug into those systems... I feel... it's like they pull you in a little deeper every time."

"I'm scared, Neesama! I don't want to lose... me. You said we had a choice... I'm choosing, right now. I want to stay a person, not a... thing. I'll still help, and I'll manage the sprites and run the calls and all that... but I'm never, ever plugging into the Ring's Cores again."

She closed her eyes, flinching slightly at the expected rebuke for her cowardice... but found herself instead being enveloped in a tight hug by Klashanna.

"Of course. I'll find some other way to run things. It's your choice."

That was it. No accusations, no rebukes... just a simple gesture of support. Coughing slightly in embarrassment, Data wormed her way out of the embrace, and was about to reply when a nearby monitor lit up with the grinning image of her elder sister.

"Imotochan! There you are! I've been looking for you all over the place! Come on over to the lab, I've got something really awesome I want to show you! Seq is already here!"

As abruptly as she had appeared, Uplink vanished from the screen, leaving her sister in a state of dumbstruck silence... for a few moments, anyway.

"Imoto...chan? Oh no, she didn't. She did not just call me that... uhh, Neesama? Thanks, I really appreciate it and all that, but I have to find my sister right now and hurt her."

With a nod, she left the room at a breakneck pace, muttering to herself. Chuckling, Klashanna merely smiled and returned to her work... a time of troubles it may be, but it had been too long since the sisters had really had a chance to be a family.

The Solar Ring, Engineering, Gemini Sector

"Are we clear?"

"Of course we're clear... do you think we'd come down here without sweeping the place first?"

The first pyrodent took the jibe without complaint. After all, the second had earned the right to a little rudeness. Few could claim to have served as long or as faithfully as Markel - a hero of the War of Souls, Commander of the Kythid Incident... the list went on. He was honorably retired now, living the life of a respected civilian himself, but the Legion attitude isn't something a few years of "soft" living can iron out.

It was he who had suggested that this meeting take place in engineering - the odds of being discovered here were slim to none. In Hex's days, they would have been caught... but knowing Hex, he'd probably have joined in. Markel dismissed the fain sense of nostalgia swiftly though, as he looked around at his compatriots.

They were a motley bunch, for certain. The one who had asked was a former aqua-culture supervisor - a role of extreme importance and great prestige in its own right. But Markel had read the files... seen the half-dozen rejected applications for recruitment in the Legion. He'd always pitied that sort - born with a mind of action but trapped in a weak body.

But the lad had seized the initiative with a zeal to make any soldier proud. When the Freiherr's attack critically damaged his workplace in Aquarius, he'd marshaled the workers as a search-and rescue team. His leadership had saved the lives of dozens, and he had emerged from the fires of catastrophe as a sort of leader among the Aquarius refugees here in Gemini.

The second and third were twins - extremely rare among the pyrodents. Their distinctive soot-black fur marked them as natives of Gemini, and their clean coats and composed stance marked them as researchers. Markel had to admit, they made him slightly uneasy... but their skill-set was going to be necessary for the group's plans. Liking them, however, was not.

The fourth was - of all things - an assimar - a demolitions expert, on leave at the moment but still in the service. He was a quiet sort, and Markel occasionally despaired of his lack of imagination... but he was loyal, and in a situation like this, loyal comrades were worth their weight in mithril.

A strange team they made... with a goal stranger still. But a team they were.

"Right then. You all know what we're trying to do. You all know why we have to do it. There is no need to go over such things yet again. Tonight..."

Reaching into his pack, Markel produced a small folder, stuffed with papers.

"...we must refine exactly how."

[planswalker]

Drofiel's Airship, Vallan Airspace

"Incredible... a Spark, brought to bear with its full power..."

The moment the divine general opened his mouth, the battle was over. There were still shots being fired, but the Fallen simply stood and allowed themselves to be struck down. It was simple clean up... or to put it more crudely, butchery.

His role in the battle was finished... now came the aftermath, which he suspected would be much trickier. Calling his allies to his side, he worked his way towards his airship, where Michrael had been seen descending as he shrugged off his divine stature.

Coming to rest before the general, Drofiel sighed heavily and spoke.

"Magnificent work, Michreal... utterly magnificent. For all our science, we simply cannot replicate the power of a Spark such as yours. At least, not yet... I have full confidence that such myteries will be stripped away in time. In any case, I think you ought to meet the ones who made this possible. Ix? You should un-cloak now, the threat is gone."

[Of course.]

The words were oddly flat - it would take an observer a moment to realize that there was no actual sound, and the phrasing was purely in their head. On cue, six figures materialized on the bridge. They were humanoid... more or less... with oddly gaunt limbs and unsettling proportions. Their garb - a rubbery, ribbed black material that clung to their body like a second skin - was unfamiliar, but anyone who was once named among the Host of Dawn would recognize the distinctive squid-like head, despite the milky white eyes being hidden behind thick black goggles.

[Hello, Commander Michrael. I am Ixlograwfel... do not attempt to pronounce it, trust me, you can't with your vocal arrangement. You may call me Ix. I speak for my compatriots here, whose names you really have no need to know. I do not believe we have met before... I must confess, my prior dealings with your species have been less than cordial.]

The creature flicked a tentacle in what might have approximated a smirk, but did not elaborate further. It seemed to believe its speaking role to be concluded with its introduction. Coughing slightly, Drofiel picked up the slack.

"Now, I understand that our people have had their disagreements, but they are allies, of a sort. It was an idea of some of our Dark Faeli members, and negotiations have been proceeding smoothly so far..."

The normally loquacious commander trailed off uncomfortably, attempting to gauge the reactions of the two parties. The Ithilids seemed to be viewing the situation with the same casual disintrist they always carried with them, but Michrael...

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OOC: AGH! Sorry for the short post. And the lateness of it. I have other plotlines I want to work on, but not keeping you waiting is the most inportant thing right now. Hopefully I can pick things up again tomorrow.

Anyway, couldn't go much further without know how Mike is going to react to a bunch of mind flayers showing up out of nowhere...

Michrael - over Progress

"I do not like you, dark creatures. Your gods may have grown idle, but I remember what you did to us."

He takes in a breath. "However, I do thank you for your help. You made it possible to release my soldiers without undue loss of life. Now then, If I could be so abrupt, I have other business I'd like to conduct here on Progress before I return."

Michrael then flies off, leaving the mind flayers and Drofiel behind to take care of the cleanup. With a silent message to Blue, he heads towards the heart of Progress. His shimmerling liason and tactical adviser appears there as well.

[Shmee]

Symaxia

Following the Second Advent, a sort of cease-fire had fallen over Despair, as the Thirty Tyrants begin to regroup after the angelic assault. Yet as Death's Hour passed throughout the entire world, the Living Dead, especially the sentient ones, found that with the passing of the god of Death, they had finally regained a good measure of their free-will.

Thus it did not take long for a grand conspiracy to be created. A conspiracy to overthrow the Dracolich tyrants who had taken it upon themselves to be the inheritors of the Freiherr's will. This did not sit well with their servants, the Liches, who began to plot their ascension to power.

The Liches of Symaxia, the eldest of them once Faeli Mages who once fought alongside the gods during the Lunar Advent, had enough. Abandoned by their gods and forced out of their ancestral home, they were tricked into an eternity of servitude to the whim of the Tyrants. Yet now, they were free to forge their own destiny.

For years, the Liches played along to the Tyrant's desires, acting loyal to their cause, while in reality, they would meet far from the Tyrant's eyes, as they discussed their plan. Eventually, a course of action was completed, and the Liches began making their first move.

On the pretence of preparing a secret weapon which would bring the whole of Despair to its knees, the Liches secured an immense chamber, deep under the winding corridors of the Necropolis of Symaxia. Having secured the Tyrant's blessings, the Liches then moved on to the second phase of their plan, securing the required material.

The material the Liches required was none other than the purest Raw Frehernite. Naturally, the entire city of Symaxia was built with this unholy ore, but the Liches had made it clear to the Tyrants, in order for the weapon to be effective, only the purest of Frehernite can be used. Thus, a great search started, but mostly, the Tyrants used their powers to travel to the greatest source of Frehernite: the Moon itself. Unfortunately, in order to herald the Second Advent, the Freiherr had ripped Moon's Tooth and threw it upon Conviction. However, it did not mean that the ground around the mountain had not absorbed the dark god's blood as he was impaled for aeons.

Being satisfied that they had secured only the purest Raw Frehernite, the Liches began to work on the ore. All around the world, the most powerful Liches would kidnap the best smiths from all races, and deep within the Necropolis, they were forced to mould the unholy ore into a shape which the Liches dictated. It took several years for the smiths to finish their task, many died from overexposure to the Frehernite, others took their own life, only to be raised again. Once their task was complete, the Liches made sure to dispose of them, since they wished to keep this a secret.

The Tyrants looked with great interest at the Lich's project. Lying on a obsidian slab, lied a suit of full plate-mail armour, constructed by the world's finest armour-smiths. Intricate designs had been engraved on the unholy armour to give it almost a skeletal-like appearance, a most fitting theme considering who had constructed it. Lying separately, next to the assembled armour, was the helmet, forged in the shape of a fearsome skull.

Now was the most difficult and dangerous part, the dark ritual itself. Of course, the Liches were no strangers to rituals, but this one was different from any ritual ever seen. For years, the Liches toiled day and night as they seek to perfect the incantation. Time had little meaning when one was one of the Living Dead. Finally, satisfied that all was ready, the Liches prepared for the final step.

Unbeknown to the Tyrants, the conspirators who numbered will over a thousand of the most ancient and powerful liches had gathered in the dark chamber, under the Necropolis of Symaxia. As the Dracoliches looked on, the Liches began drawing intricate and unholy runes in a circular fashion leading to the slab where the armour was lying. Standing on each rune, the Liches are instructed to bring out their most precious possession; their Phylactery, the reason why despite so many wars, the Lich keep returning again and again.

Placing their Phylacteries on the unholy runes in front of them, the Liches watch as the most powerful of the Arch-Liches makes his way towards the armour and begins chanting the incantation. As he does so, every Lich in the room prepare for their moment, by bringing out a dagger made out of Pure Frehernite, the holy counterbalance of Raw Frehernite, and bring it to their throat. Upon the command of the Arch-Lich, the Liches plunge the holy blades, causing their old dusty bodies to crumble, but their souls, returning to their Phylacteries.

As the Tyrants watch on with great interest, the final remaining Lich, the Arch-Lich barks out the final phrases of the incantation, and does the same with his holy blade. However, as his soul is sucked back into the Phylactery, the unholy runes begin to shine with energy, until all of a sudden, the Arch-Lich's Phylactery cracks. Within moments, another Phylactery laying on the floor cracks, until every Phylactery within the dark chamber first cracks and then breaks open, unleashing thousands of vengeful souls screaming throughout the chamber.

Normally, at this moment, the Lich's souls would have gone screaming all the way back to their place of eternal rest in the Bastion of Souls... except that the souls were not allowed to leave. The unholy runes and the dark incantation had trapped all souls within the chamber, unable to escape. As the souls began to instinctively search for something to hold them, they found their way into the one item in the chamber which could hold them; the empty suit of armour.

Thousands of tortured souls began to pour into the armour, screaming in a cacophony of pain and anguish, until the final soul had gone in. A deathly silence washes over the chamber, as the Tyrants look with great interest to see what will happen next.

All of a sudden, the silence is broken by the sound of metal clattering, as the armour moves a single finger, and slowly comes to life. The unholy creation, slowly stands up from the slab it was lying on, and groggingly steps on the ground, as if it was still not used to its body. After a few moments, the armour reaches towards the slab, and picking up its skull-shaped helmet, places it in its rightful place.

The Dracoliches seeing the success of this weapon, begin to approach the armour in order to give it its first orders. All of a sudden, the Skull-like helmet turns towards the Tyrants, its facial features expressionless except its skeletal grin. As it raises its arm towards the Dracoliches, the Tyrants realize too late that they had been betrayed as they are blasted away with a wave of dark energy.

The armour looks at its arm, almost in disbelieve before clenching it. Their plan had worked! They had overthrown the Tyrants and were now Lords of Symaxia.

"Vengeance... is mine!"

Hisses the Skull Knight with the voice of a thousand Liches. Moments later, a dark laughter is heard throughout the Necropolis as an armoured figure is seen flying through the sky, mounted on a skeletal warhorse. The figure is seen by many races throughout Despair, until the figure had disappeared over the horizon.

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OOC
The Freiherr
AP2= 13-11, Beget god to DR5

Raise Mortal Hero: Midnight (The Skeletal Warhorse)

[planswalker]

Michrael - Some Saerite city - central progress

The crimson glowing angel with the tiny blue fairy cohourt approaches a random passerby in the street and asks him or her, "Excuse me, but I am looking to trade with your people. Who should I speak to?"

Solaron - Hope

Given the rare opportunity to once again walk Planet, Solaron enters the desert city his brother established and looks around. Should he see any sign of intelligent life, he will talk to it.

Conviction - Kobold jungles

Within the kobold jungles of Conviction, the prismatics were initiating a new order of priests. Although practically every priest had at least some latent sorcerous power, the most devoted had always held up both. Now there was a way for them to achieve rapid growth in both. They had learned from the prismatic dragons by whose power their forms were altered to synthesize their powers together to a single power source.

They were the "Mystical Thurgies" as the kobolds call them. They quickly came to dominate every aspect of the kobold temples to Solaron

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create organization: Mystical Thurgies (prc: mystic theurge)

this takes off Solaron's last 2 ap for now.

[Rizban]

Minrhet, Conviction

As the dragons ever stretched out their control over the land, Minrhet gained ever more in power. Flexing his strengthening muscles, he becomes more draconic in nature, two great wings sprouting from his back.

"Hmm... That's inconvenient."

He twists and turns until he manages to get his wings tucked away under his robes where they will not get in the way of his movement.

"Stupid things... I still don't understand why my dragon children seem to love them so. Bloody irritating if you ask me..."

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Minrhet (DR11, Evo3)
AP 3 = 0 + 6(rollover from last week) - 3(Evolve)

Martu (DR5, Evo2)
AP 5 = 1 + 4(rollover from last week)

Namtar (DR5, Evo2)
AP 5 = 1 + 4(rollover from last week)

[Shmee]

The Freiherr's Mansion

The Lords of the Elements were busy, keeping the Freiherr's mansion in order and waiting for his return. As time passed, they found that they were slowly able to exert their own influence over the demons who fought in eternal combat on the moon. Looking at each other, the Lords wondered, what new powers they would uncover, now that they were the self-proclaimed "Will of the Freiherr".

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OOC
The Lords
AP1=4-3, Evolve.

Outside of Conviction

Upon what remained of the circular beach that surrounded the lost land of Conviction, the Skull Knight peered beyond the mirage into the land. He had heard tales of this legendary land, about how after the Second Advent it had simply vanished. Yet with his powers, the Skull Knight knew the truth, Conviction still was, and yet he could not access it. Grunting in frustration, the Skull Knight simply wills for his warhorse to heed his call, and upon mounting it, the Skull Knight takes off.

That night, several ships of devout followers heading into Conviction could have sworn that they saw a dark figure galloping at incredible speeds all around the remaining desert, leaving a trail of unholy flames in the steed's wake. The devout ones could only wonder what this dark omen meant.

As the Skull Knight continued his tireless gallop around the borders of Conviction, he kept his eyes open towards the barrier, looking for any sign of a weak spot that he might use in order to force his way in. As dawn broke the Skull Knight, having galloped all around Conviction in a single night at incredible speed brings his steed to a complete halt. He knew well enough that as things are, he would not be able to enter Conviction.

"Most... annoying... I shall have to find a different method to announce my presence to the Conclave..."

It takes a few moments of thought for the Skull Knight to come up with a solution... one that would kill two birds with one stone. Grabbing once again the reigns of his mount, the Skull Knight goes screeching through the air as he goes to his next destination... his ancestral home.

Steelmach

Steelmach, the proud Gnomish city, located on Hope, one of the world's oldest cities, the city of magic. Run by the Iron Gnomes for Aeons, very few in this time and age know of the city's dark past... yet there were some who did... and they would force the world to remember as the aeons did little to sooth the old wounds.

As the Council of Gnomish Elders met in Steelmach, all of a sudden powerful magic begin to rip a hole in reality as a portal is opened. Walking through it, a figure armoured in a suite which the Gnomes recognized as Raw Frehernite, dark powers eminating from the figure as it walks towards the council, the portal itself closing as the creature walked through.

Bowing towards the Elder Gnomes, the figure addresses them in a cacophony of a thousand tortured souls

"Greetings Elders of Valorum..." the creature's greetings was odd enough, for it was referring to Steelmach's ancient name... a name that had virtually disappeared from most knowledge

"You may not know me in my current form... but I know who you are. Indeed... several of you, sitting in this council, were the the very ones who usurped this city which you claim as your own. It was not Gnomish minds who dreamt of the glory of this city, nor was it Gnomish hands who built it... yet it was the Gnomes who claimed it as their own, not giving even a thought for its rightful inheritors. Though throughout the ages you wished to conveniently erase all mention of your dark deeds, there are some who cannot forget... the Faeli of Valorum demand justice for your crimes."

"Because of you... the horrors that the Faeli of Valorum went through... are unspeakable... cast out by the Gnomes from their ancestral home, abandoned by the gods, in desperation they were tricked by the Dark One into an eternity of servitude in a land far away. And yet... the Faeli of Valorum never forgot... nor did they forgive. For standing in front of you, is the tool of vengeance which the Faeli of Valorum have unleashed... for I am the Faeli of Valorum... I am their vengeance... I am... the Skull Knight..."

The Skull Knight points an accusing finger at the Gnomes

"Your sins of the past have rebounded on your own heads... you are guilty of your crimes, and thus you have been condemned to death... prepare to relinquish your souls... for they are now forfeit!"

[Draken]

Council Chambers of Steelamach

The councilors murmured among themselves as the Skull Knight spoke, until the eldest of them all, the high chairman of Steelamach, made the chamber echo with a strike of thunder.

It was a gnome in large armor, the azure hue of cobalt, with a tall helm and a flowing robe, but most distinctive of all were the objects that floated behind him, reminiscent of wings, yet completely unlike them.

"The faeli of Valorum saw fit to steal from us, and began a civil war they lost. The inner city, for Steelamach was the surrounding lands, was our spoil, and all of your mistakes afterwards were your own poor choices, much like that first one."

"Don'tcha blame us for your fooly younglings. We know of you lot, became liches battling for Symaxia and waged another hopeless war with Grindforge. You lot should just settle down and stop bringing to yourselves battles you cannot win. Battles with the people of iron."

"Ichmod's gift of souls lets me see right through ya, a bunch of miserable souls that should have passed on long ago cast into foul steel, wishing for nothing but revenge. But I see too the gift of divinity, and should that scare us? Remember your own gods, Faeli of Valorum, they saw fit to make this a place where deities greater than you can make their presence phisical, so if you try anything yourself, you will have to contend with the Ironmaster himself."

"And that armor of yours will rust away and shatter like glass if the Ironmaster so much as wills it. Then maybe you lot can pass on and try to find some peace at last."

The elderly armored gnome rubs the chin of his helmet, much like one would rub a long beard, he probably has one behind the thing.

[Shmee]

The Skull Knight, Council Chambers of Steelamach

The Skull Knight's face remains with its usual grinning expression, of course that was the only expression the Skull Knight could make. As soon as the Chief Elder finished speaking, the Skull Knight stretches out his arm, pointing at the Gnome

"Very well, I shall consider those your final words..."

Exerting his power, the Skull Knight sends from his pointing hand tendrils of dark energies screeching towards the Iron Gnome. Upon slamming into his chest, the Skull Knight extracts the soul. Looking at the soul grasped firmly in his palm, the Skull Knight absorbs it. This Gnome would not experience the rest that the Bastion provides.

"Fools... I was amongst those who built this city... I am fully aware of its features. Let your Ironmaster come... his fate shall be no different..."

[Rizban]

Martu and The Dragon Army, the skies above Steelmach

As Martu and a contingent of dragons wing their way across the skies, he senses a great evil emanating from the city below. Though what he senses is the evil of the Skull Knight, he does not know of that god's existence. Flying past on his way to Tranquility, Martu thinks to himself, Sad, truly, that the gnomes would harbor such Darkness in the heart of their city. Surely, they would have hidden it had they known I was near. They rest easy for now, on Minrhet's orders, but I will both regret and savor the day when that order is lifted and Darkness is finally purged from Hope. I wish only that such seemingly noble, if arrogant, beings needn't suffer. I will ensure that their deaths are swift and as painless as possible.

[hr]Martu and The Dragon Army, Tranquility

Deep beneath the waves, the darkened portal still churned. True it had been mostly obstructed by the haphazard work of the gnomes, but Blackwater continued to seep into the surrounding ocean. This simply could not be allowed to continue. While the entire population of Tranquility had already succumbed and died, the blackwater would eventually spread and poison the whole of Planet.

It had worked on Hope, so too might it work here... Martu plunged headlong into the waters, forcing himself to resist screaming in agony as the blackwater tainted him, his divinity burning bright in an effort to protect him from overwhelming Darkness. Diving to the very depths of the ocean in the center of the isles, Martu begins to pour his Light into the sands. Heaving and shifting, the ocean floor appears to almost boil as great molten bubbles of sand and gravel begin to flow upwards. The blackwater is drawn inwards towards the portal as the molten sands flow upwards to contain them.

When all is finished, a great five-sided pyramid of stone and divine glass sits upon the ocean floor, towering so high that it forms a small island amidst all the others. The center of this pyramid remains hollow, encasing the foul portal and trapping the blackwater so that it can never again spread.

Emerging from the ocean with a great gasp, Martu grins to his dragon compatriots.

"I have finished."

Martu looks about him to the four nearest isles.

"Go. Find suitable locations for fortresses that we might secure this area against intrusion. None must be allowed to attempt to release the corruption from its prison."

The dragons flew forth, doing as was commanded. Soon, bastions were built on the four islands to guard the inner sea and its pyramid against invasion. The dragons remained in garrison of these citadels as Martu returned to Hope. Soon, he would be sending more dragonkin to Tranquility. For now, those would have to do, for he needed to rest

[hr]Namtar, the Underdark

"Genasi scum... spreading mischief in my lands..."

Namtar's anger burns hot, and he begins to vent his rage against the cavern walls around him. Violent tremors begin to shake the earth down to its very foundations. A great fissure opens across the Genasi lands to the north as an earthquake rips the land asunder. As the ground collapses inward, the entrances to the Underdark in the northern lands of Hope. No longer would the Genasi simply walk into the underdark to spread their foul religion amongst the Dark Faeli.

The deep dragons spread forth through the underdark, slaying every genasi they can find and continuing to convert the Dark Faeli to Namtar worship.

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Edit: Rather than double post, I'm editing Namtar's actions and the rollover into this post.
Minrhet (DR11, Evo3)
AP 10 = 3 + 7(rollover)

Martu (DR5, Evo2)
AP 7 = 5 - 1(Mold Land: Create Great Pyramid) - 1(Mold Land: Create Fortresses) + 4(rollover)

Namtar (DR5, Evo2)
AP 7 = 5 + 4(rollover) - 1(Mold Land: Close off easy access to the Underdark) - 1(Pestilence on Hope Genasi)

Edited map to show placement:

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The desert created by Minrhet extends north to the north edge of those hills in the middle of the continent and west to the mountains and south and east to the ocean.

[Draken]

Steelamach

The elderly gnome is snuffed. His armor crumpling from lack of a live owner.

About then, the metal of Steelamach Creaks and surges with lightning.

"GODLING! You dare raise your hand against the servants of the IRONMASTER?!"

The terrible noise of grinding gears and a smog of oxidated dust fills the air, as the Ironmaster cometh.

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(1d10+11)[15]

[Shmee]

The Skull Knight, Steelmach

The Skull Knight turns towards the source of the sound and hisses in response

"Ironmaster Ichmod... you shall be the first of the Conclave to taste my wrath..."

Raising both of his hands, the Skull Knight decides that this was the moment to reveal the ace that he had hidden up his sleeve. The Skull Knight was no fool. He knew very well that though he had become powerful, there were still others who were vastly more powerful than he was.

Exerting his will, a foul wind falls throughout the council chamber as dark runes the likes once made by the Freiherr begin rotating around the Skull Knight. As the incantation finishes, the runes begin to shine so brightly that it would hurt to look at it. As the winds continue to howl, a portal is opened, and from within it, chained tightly, emerges a sword the like the world has never seen before... it seemed like a sword of pure light.

When the Liches were preparing their rebellion, they had sent their agents to recover the Raw Frehernite in order to create the Skull Knight's armour at a great cost. However, they also sent their agents on another mission... one that reeked of pure madness.

The agents of the Liches thus travelled around the world, and began their unholy mission by harvesting the souls of the most noble mortals with the purest of hearts... and brought them to the chambers underneath the Necropolis of Symaxia... were the Liches' true insanity was revealed... for within the chambers, even as the Skull Knight's armour was being forged, the Liches had managed to gather the substance which was an anathema to them and their kind... Pure Frehernite... the most holy of substances.

With the Pure Frehernite which they had gathered, at an even greater cost naturally, the Liches, using the skills and abilities of the smiths which they had kidnapped forged a sword of unparalleled beauty, elegance and holiness, in stark comparison to the Skull Knight's armour.

Having fitted the most holy of blades with rune-filled chains, the Liches then proceeded with their final insult towards the light. They began to infuse the sacred blade with the thousands of pure and righteous souls which they had harvested, giving the blade an unearthly radiance of purity.

No sooner had the ritual been completed, that the sword, now given a measure of sentience, attempted to full fill its purpose, and strike at the evil Liches who created it, only to be held back by the chains and the powerful spells put on it. Nodding in satisfaction as the Dracolich Tyrants looked on, the Liches had created a weapon that the Skull Knight would use to throw righteousness back into the face of the gods who claim to be the champions of justice by wielding the most holy of blades in order to do deeds most foul.

Grasping the sword firmly in his hand, it takes all of the Skull Knight's will and power to prevent the blade from striking him. Pointing the Blade of Radiance confidently towards the source of the voice, the Skull Knight hisses

"Let our wills be tested then..."


As he attempts to deny Ichmod entry into Steelmach.

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OOC
The Skull Knight
AP1= 2-1, Pestilence on the Pure of Heart and Righteous

The Freiherr
AP0=15-15, Create Combat Artifact x5; Blade of Radiance

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(1d10+10)[18]
This isn't exactly rolling for divine combat, more that Draken and I would leave the outcome to luck, with varying results depending on how the roll goes.

[Shmee]

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I know this is double posting, but I didn't want to continue the post before seeing the result of the roll, and I don't want to edit it, least I somehow ruin the roll I made.

The Skull Knight, Steelmach

The battle of wills rages amongst the two gods, Ichmod was much more powerful, but the Skull Knight's secret weapon had brought the duelling pair on equal terms. The dark winds howl within the chamber as the Skull Knight begins to summon his necromantic powers.

"Ironmaster Ichmod... you and your mortals have grown complacent. In your arrogance you consider yourself untouchable and thus you have grown soft. You claim lordship over all metals, but behold! Today one of metal shall deny you!"

Mustering all of his power, the Skull Knight launches a massive wave of necromantic energy. All of a sudden, the noise of grinding gears have ceased and the smog has disappeared. All that remains are the astonished Gnomish Elders and the Skull Knight... standing victorious.

His helmet turns towards the Elders, now left utterly defenceless against the wrath of the Faeli of Valorum

"Where is your god, Iron Gnomes of Steelmach? He heard your call, and he has failed you. Your souls are at my mercy now, Elders of Steelmach... the thought of taking all your souls and torturing it for an eternity would bring great joy to me... but I shall let you live... for today, my hand has humbled the Iron Gnomes."

The Skull Knight looks up, and all of a sudden, there is an unearthly neighing, as Midnight comes crashing through the roof, at its master's call. Mounting his steed, the Skull Knight points a finger to the remaining Elders and gives them a warning

"This was merely the first strike! As you forcefully evicted me from my ancestral home, so shall my kind do the same to you. Heed my words Iron Gnomes... for all your arrogance... none of you are safe from my wrath! Sleep fearing the creeping darkness, for this I swear upon myself: I shall return here to finish what I have started."

With that, the Skull Knight goes flying through the Council roof, bringing it down, and cackling as he flies through the sky, bound for the next target... one of the many who would face the oncoming retribution.

[Selinia]

NNHIS International Headquarters, Hoffnung

Michrael is swiftly directed in his search by passers-by. Few seem phased at talking to the angelic general, generally sparing him barely a glance before giving his his instructions.

Before long he finds himself standing before a structure imposing even by angelic standards. Towering a good twenty-five stories above the streets of Hoffnung, the building seemed to be encased in a reflective glass that blazed in the sunlight. Situated front-and center on each face of the building, the stark red-and-white logo of NNHIS glared down at the surrounding city. It was a monument to the political and economic power of the group that owned it, and a marvel of architecture in its own right.

Upon entry, Michrael is greeted by almost at once. The official bears all the marks of someone who spends their days behind a desk - scrawny stature, pale coloration, a definite lack of grace in his movements... But he was grinning ear-to-ear, and clearly pleased to see them.

"Ah, yes, yes, welcome, many welcomes to you! We were informed that you might coming by. I assure you - whatever you're looking for, you will not be disappointed. The New National Heavy Industry Society aims to please!"

Chuckling slightly, the representative extended his hand and gestured vaguely around the lobby.

"Oh, I must seem terribly rude... I'm Kaito, pleased to meet you. If I am not mistaken, you would be one Sir Michrael, and your charming companion would be Ms. Blue, correct? But really, we oughtn't stand in the lobby like this. We'd just be getting in the way, and it's hardly what I'd call comfortable. We have a negotiation room cleared out, come, come, I'll take you there."

Moving through the halls (and up an elevator), they at last come to a spacious room on one of the upper floors, offering a splendid view of the sprawling city. The room was obviously designed with comfort in mind, as evidenced by the comfortable-looking chairs and a cooler set it one wall. Kaito smoothly retrieves one of them, placing it in from of an elegant mahogany desk - he move to get another one, but pauses as he takes in Blue's very definite lack of sitting ability. Never dropping his salesman's smile, he situates himself across from the chair, gesturing for Michrael to take a seat and arranging his legs in the relaxed posture that was the saerite equivalent of the action.

"Now, isn't that better? We can discuss things comfortably here. In any case, how might I help you? I was informed that you may be in the market for some of our military hardware, but beyond that I have few specifics. Could you explain what exactly we can do for you? Do you want land power? Aircraft? Infantry munitions? City defense? Or was I misinformed, and are you looking more in the civilian sector? NNHIS manufactures a wide array of top-of-the-line labor-saving devises and industrial equipment."

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OOC: Sorry for the short post. Again. I let Michrael on a bit of a chase there, but I didn't see any reason why he would object to any of it, except perhaps the constant chatter of the sales rep.

[Shmee]

Hoffnung

All of a sudden, the skies around Hoffnung darken as unnatural clouds begin swirling in a vortex on top of the city. The howling dark winds batter the city as in the centre of the vortex, dark runes appear, opening a portal. As the onlookers watched in awe, an object flies through the portal, and crashing violently onto the streets, raises a huge dust cloud and sends debris flying all over.

Even as the onlooking citizens ran for cover, an unearthly nieghing is heard from within the dust cloud, and all of a sudden a dark figure gallops through the street at dazzling speed, leaving a trail of flame in its wake. Having locked onto its target, the figure reaches its destination, the NNHIS International Headquarters building. Looking at the tall building, the figure takes hold of the reins and jumps through the air.

As Michrael is making himself comfortable, the shattering of glass grabs his attention as a figure leaps through the window, and comes to a complete halt in front of him. To Michrael there can be no doubt of the creature's unholy nature, mounted on a skeletal warhorse, this person's armour had the style and motives that Michrael recognized immediately from his days fighting in Despair.

"Retribution has found you... murderer!"

Hisses the Skull Knight, pointing his finger at the general of the angels.

The Underdark

The evil dragons must have been pleased with themselves at the destruction they brought upon the Genasi with that earthquake... but they would soon learn that its dangerous to mess with the earth, especially when you have tons of it hanging over your head.

As the dragons are hunting the Genasi in the Underdark, a massive earthquake begins to rock the entire place, and earthquake so powerful that it dwarfed the one that had hit the Genasi earlier on. For hours the earthquake rocked the entire Underdark, and what was most bizarre was that the jagged rocks seemed to aim especially at the dragons. Finally after hours the earthquake stopped... the denizens of the Underdark sighed a breath of relief, confident that they would rebuild. And then their world collapsed over their heads.

With a roaring sound, a new earthquake rocks the underground, this one much shorter, lasting only a few minuets, but even dwarfing any earthquake this world has ever experienced. So powerful was it, that the ancient Underdark, created when the world was young, finally collapsed, burying alive all its denizens.

Who could have done something like this? The Underdark was virtually left alone for centuries until now. Perhaps it was the doing of a cosmic entity who wished to spread chaos... it defiantly wouldn't be the first time... but the most logical explanation, were the Genasi. After all, they claimed kinship with the earth, and knowing their tactics, they probably had a secret weapon. It made the most sense.

In a dark corner of the Underdark, a figure rises from the earth, and inspects the devastation.

"Gneh heh heh.... amateurish greedy bastards..."

Cackles Snailgosh, Elemental Lord of Earth, satsified with his handywork, he returns to the Moon.

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OOC
The Lords
AP1= 4-3, Evolve
AP0= 1-1, Mould Land, Collapse the entire Underdark

The Freiherr
Use Pantheon AP, Pestilence on the Underdark

[Selinia]

NNHIS International Headquarters, Hoffnung

Despite a jolt of surprise as the Skull Knight crashed the the window, the NNHIS representative regains his composure with remarkable speed, turning a glower on the interloper that would have been menacing on almost anyone else, in almost any other situation. At it was, it simply looked somewhat silly.

"Sir... I do not know what grievance you have with my client here, but you are in violation of more laws and regulations than I can count. You are trespassing, committing vandalism, threatening and harassing my client. I would like to remind you that vigilante justice is frowned upon here in the Alliance - if you have charges to bring against this individual, you can go through the due processes of the law just like everyone else, or take it up with officials in his homeland."

If Kaito was afraid, he didn't show it. From his tone and posture, he seemed to be genuinely annoyed by the intrusion of a demigod into his meeting with a different demigod.

Pinnacle Headquarters, Hoffnung

"If I may sir... welcome back."

"It's good to be back... I've been gone too long. I don't suppose I could get an update on our status? I've been unfortunately isolated during my sojourn."

"Of course, commander."

While slower than the divine general, the angel's airship had reached Hoffnung not long after him, and was now docked a short distance outside the city limits. Within the hour, he was re-entering Pinnacle HQ for the first time in just under a month.

The structure was much more modest than the towering NNHIS offices - a simple four-story affair, with elegant polished black marble plating it. Of course, only the mundane offices and such dwelt in the upper reaches of the building - all the important projects and labs were maintained underground. As was common with many corporate offices, the Pinnacle seal presided over the front entrance - a fig leaf, with the company motto encircling it. "The gods in their heaven, we mortals in our own."

Punching in his master code (once a very complex mechanical lock, now operated by one of those new "computers"), Drofiel entered the elevator that was the only practical means of descending into the restricted research levels. In theory, one could drop into B1 through clever use of the air ducts... but Pinnacle had laced them with enough traps to slice, dice, and burninate anyone foolish enough to try such a blatantly absurd tactic.

At last, he debarked on B6 - officially, the bottom floor, and the nervous center of the organization. He'd always found the room - with it's ominous black walls, and ominous stone desk, and ominous lighting, and ominous array of telephones - to be a clear indicator that his staff was reading entirely too many of those graphic novels Pulsites were so fond of. But it was functional, and secure, and it was certainly impressive, particularly with his senior staff arrayed about it.

"Well than... now that we're away from any potential prying eyes, where do we stand?"

Each gave their report in sequence, summing up the organization's activities in the absence of its leader, moving through basic logistical and political updates to the slightly more esoteric research and development reports.

"Project Clover is coming along smashingly sir. We've made some really fantastic breakthroughs in harvesting and controlling the Bellum, and we're getting measurably closer to understanding it - and by extension, the Blackwater. Test subject retains her enthusiasm for the project, and we're not seeing the personality deterioration we'd originally feared..."

"Does her rampaging through the labs count as personality deterioration? I mean, just saying."

"No... no, that's just Nana. Look, just be thankful you're department handles the radioactive stuff, and it's us that has to deal with her."

"Please, let's stay focused here."

"Right then, apologies for the interruption."

"Thank you. Now... metallurgy team, how close are we to getting a replacement for Purified Freiherrite? My trip brought into sharp perspective how useful such a substance would be if it could be mass-produced."

"Unfortunately, we're getting stonewalled there. It's nigh-impossible to get a hold of it, and what little there is lies mostly in the hands of gnomes... and they're not exactly eager to trade their rarest and most precious metal. Obviously, therein lies the attractiveness of a synthetic alternative, but it's difficult to work with no baseline to research from."

"Hmm... unfortunate. Continue work, we'll see if we can't get some samples for your team..."

At this point, one of the phones of the table rang shrilly, prompting Drofiel to pick it up.

"...yes, I understand. Look, a demigod is something we can handle... is he causing problems? No? Okay then, let him be, no need to antagonize him unnecessarily... yes, thank you, release the orders, if things go badly we'll execute the operation."

Rubbing his temples in frustration for a moment, Drofiel set down the phone and continued where he had left off.

"In any case, I think it's time to look at some of this personally. I will be touring the facility shortly - and I would like a word with our ambassador from the ithillid community. You are all dismissed."

As one, the half-dozen or so employees gathered their files and filed out the door, most making for the elevator, some for the archives that shared this floor. Drofiel simply took a moment to sit back and reflect on what he had just heard... it was all coming together now.

Very soon, things were going to get... interesting.

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OOC: AP Bookkeeping, for this and last week, since I forgot to update my AP last week.

Sequence AP: 17 ; 14 + 2 (Rollover) + 2 (Rollover)
Klashanna AP: 18 ; 0 + 9 (Rollover) + 9 (Rollover)
The Unbound Spark AP: 9 ; 1 + 4 (Rollover) + 4 (Rollover)

[Shmee]

The Skull Knight

As the representative speaks, the Skull Knight's unholy aura becomes so overwhelming that it engulfs the entire building, demonstrating the demi-god's irritation. The Skull Knight's helmet turns in an angel impossible for one with a body, the armour facing Michrael while the helmet turning towards the representative

"Peasant...you are speaking to the rightful monarch of the Dreaded Empire of Symaxia ... and in accordance to your own laws, that would grant me diplomatic immunity..."

To prove his point the Skull Knight slams his metallic hand on the elegant mahogany desk, the force of the blow causing it to crash through several floors before coming to a crashing halt on the ground level.

"Laws of mortals matter little... I bring my own brand of justice..."

Unsheathing the Blade of Radiance and pointing it towards Michrael, giving him a moment to fully swallow what was being held in front of him, the Skull Knight hisses

"... and with it, retribution, violence and death! Isn't that your own philosophy murderer?"

[planswalker]

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NNHIS International Headquarters, Hoffnung

Michrael is swiftly directed in his search by passers-by. Few seem phased at talking to the angelic general, generally sparing him barely a glance before giving his his instructions.

Before long he finds himself standing before a structure imposing even by angelic standards. Towering a good twenty-five stories above the streets of Hoffnung, the building seemed to be encased in a reflective glass that blazed in the sunlight. Situated front-and center on each face of the building, the stark red-and-white logo of NNHIS glared down at the surrounding city. It was a monument to the political and economic power of the group that owned it, and a marvel of architecture in its own right.

Upon entry, Michrael is greeted by almost at once. The official bears all the marks of someone who spends their days behind a desk - scrawny stature, pale coloration, a definite lack of grace in his movements... But he was grinning ear-to-ear, and clearly pleased to see them.

"Ah, yes, yes, welcome, many welcomes to you! We were informed that you might coming by. I assure you - whatever you're looking for, you will not be disappointed. The New National Heavy Industry Society aims to please!"

Chuckling slightly, the representative extended his hand and gestured vaguely around the lobby.

"Oh, I must seem terribly rude... I'm Kaito, pleased to meet you. If I am not mistaken, you would be one Sir Michrael, and your charming companion would be Ms. Blue, correct? But really, we oughtn't stand in the lobby like this. We'd just be getting in the way, and it's hardly what I'd call comfortable. We have a negotiation room cleared out, come, come, I'll take you there."

Moving through the halls (and up an elevator), they at last come to a spacious room on one of the upper floors, offering a splendid view of the sprawling city. The room was obviously designed with comfort in mind, as evidenced by the comfortable-looking chairs and a cooler set it one wall. Kaito smoothly retrieves one of them, placing it in from of an elegant mahogany desk - he move to get another one, but pauses as he takes in Blue's very definite lack of sitting ability. Never dropping his salesman's smile, he situates himself across from the chair, gesturing for Michrael to take a seat and arranging his legs in the relaxed posture that was the saerite equivalent of the action.

"Now, isn't that better? We can discuss things comfortably here. In any case, how might I help you? I was informed that you may be in the market for some of our military hardware, but beyond that I have few specifics. Could you explain what exactly we can do for you? Do you want land power? Aircraft? Infantry munitions? City defense? Or was I misinformed, and are you looking more in the civilian sector? NNHIS manufactures a wide array of top-of-the-line labor-saving devises and industrial equipment."

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Hoffnung

All of a sudden, the skies around Hoffnung darken as unnatural clouds begin swirling in a vortex on top of the city. The howling dark winds batter the city as in the centre of the vortex, dark runes appear, opening a portal. As the onlookers watched in awe, an object flies through the portal, and crashing violently onto the streets, raises a huge dust cloud and sends debris flying all over.

Even as the onlooking citizens ran for cover, an unearthly nieghing is heard from within the dust cloud, and all of a sudden a dark figure gallops through the street at dazzling speed, leaving a trail of flame in its wake. Having locked onto its target, the figure reaches its destination, the NNHIS International Headquarters building. Looking at the tall building, the figure takes hold of the reins and jumps through the air.

As Michrael is making himself comfortable, the shattering of glass grabs his attention as a figure leaps through the window, and comes to a complete halt in front of him. To Michrael there can be no doubt of the creature's unholy nature, mounted on a skeletal warhorse, this person's armour had the style and motives that Michrael recognized immediately from his days fighting in Despair.

"Retribution has found you... murderer!"

Hisses the Skull Knight, pointing his finger at the general of the angels.

The Skull Knight

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As the representative speaks, the Skull Knight's unholy aura becomes so overwhelming that it engulfs the entire building, demonstrating the demi-god's irritation. The Skull Knight's helmet turns in an angel impossible for one with a body, the armour facing Michrael while the helmet turning towards the representative

"Peasant...you are speaking to the rightful monarch of the Dreaded Empire of Symaxia ... and in accordance to your own laws, that would grant me diplomatic immunity..."

To prove his point the Skull Knight slams his metallic hand on the elegant mahogany desk, the force of the blow causing it to crash through several floors before coming to a crashing halt on the ground level.

"Laws of mortals matter little... I bring my own brand of justice..."

Unsheathing the Blade of Radiance and pointing it towards Michrael, giving him a moment to fully swallow what was being held in front of him, the Skull Knight hisses

"... and with it, retribution, violence and death! Isn't that your own philosophy murderer?"

Michrael and Blue - Hoffnung

This new yet familiar dark being that now threatened him had Michrael definitely worried for one rather simple reason. This entity was powerful. Michrael had spent centuries leading his army against Symaxia, and now it seemed like the city had a god of its own. One whose raw divine power far exceeded his own.

My armies and I have been too lax in our assault against the Living Dead if they have grown powerful enough to spawn this evil. At least, powerful enough for this evil to enter their midst. the angel god thought to himself.

Mike, please don't attack him head-on. You know you can't win! his diminuitive adviser thought at the same moment, unable to speak in the presence of such unabated evil.

"You call me a murderer? Surely you do not refer to the horrid mockeries of life that are the Living Dead of Symaxia? I happen to know for a fact that I have 'slain' several liches multiple times, and they still manage to come back. Your people are already dead, and thus cannot die. The mindless shells you use as slave labor are no better than puppets for evil."

"The mindless ones are not people, and thus their death is hardly murder. The liches have yet to be truly destroyed, and I do not see how their temporary inconvenience could be constituted murder. However, you are truly an aberration yourself that needs to be snuffed out. If you will let me conclude my business here first, I will be more than happy to settle this matter at a later date and time of your choosing. For now, though, you are interrupting my business dealings with an uninvolved third party."

Mike! wrong move! Don't egg him on!

moving over to Michrael's shoulders, blue whispers a brief message in his ear.

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edit: ap!

everyone had zero before rollover, so the new totals are rollover ap:

Solaron:5
Solkiran:4
Michrael:4

Solaron - across Hope

Growing impatient on his wait, the Golden Dragon Avatar focuses for a moment, and focuses on Namtar's presence. Once located, he teleports himself to the demigod's location.

"Greetings, servant to my brother Minrhet! Tell me, have you ever heard of a concept called "parties" before?"

the kobold jungles

After mastering the craft of melding divine and arcane energy, the most powerful of Thurgies sought more power. Those of sour dispositions or impatient tempers did not find it.

However, those whose personalities were compatible with that of a prismatic dragon found that the enormous gentle giants were fond of the small reptillians who shared their coloring. A thurgie of sufficient power who befriended a dragon would become "adopted" by it, and with strenuous research into the nature of life and light, could mold their own forms to match that of a roygbv. Those who delved deep enough came to learn to speak the secret language of Light.

Such knowledge molded their already mutable forms further. Over time, they came to be more and more physically similar to their "parent". However, this "child" never quite grew up to the power or size of a true prismatic. Their powers were more on par of that of Namtar's and Martu's children.

Thus did the ultimate caste of kobolds evolve into existence: the Prismatic Children. Born of a race already almost as much dragon as humanoid, the paragons of their power took their heritage a step farther. They were now true dragons in every sense of the word. Each tribe's main temple to Solaron soon became the home grounds to a Child or two, and a significantly larger structure was soon erected nearby to allow the Parent to visit as often as he or she wished.

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Solaron ap: 3=5-2{create organization: Prismatic children(prc of same name as well)}

[Shmee]

"You call me a murderer? Surely you do not refer to the horrid mockeries of life that are the Living Dead of Symaxia? I happen to know for a fact that I have 'slain' several liches multiple times, and they still manage to come back. Your people are already dead, and thus cannot die. The mindless shells you use as slave labor are no better than puppets for evil."

"The mindless ones are not people, and thus their death is hardly murder. The liches have yet to be truly destroyed, and I do not see how their temporary inconvenience could be constituted murder. However, you are truly an aberration yourself that needs to be snuffed out. If you will let me conclude my business here first, I will be more than happy to settle this matter at a later date and time of your choosing. For now, though, you are interrupting my business dealings with an uninvolved third party."

"Yes... Marshall of Angels, the mindless ones may count little in your eyes... and yet you attacked us without provocation, simply because you claimed to be dealing justice. Let me ask you this Marshall of Angels... you claim righteousness because we are monsters who kill... but let us compare ourselves... Angels and Liches... look inside you Mashall of Angels, and you shall find that the blood on your hands far outweigh any Lich found in Symaxia."

"Have you already forgotten? The Genasi of Fury still cry out for vengeance! Or have you already forgotten that it was you, who gave the order to fire your beam of death? What about the Fallen Ones whom you have killed Kinslayer? What about the rage swelling deep inside you which causes you and your kind to lose yourself to your insanity?"

"Look at yourself Marshall of Angels... you have become the murdering monstrous aberration which you seek to fight... deny it all you will, hide behind your false mantle of the light... but you cannot deny yourself."

"Enough talk however! Let us resolve this like you have always resolved any problem... with bloodshed. I have already bested your elder, the Ironmaster on his own terms, and you shall be no different"

"Oh... am I bothering a buisness accord? Strange... I do not recall you exercising such restraint when knocking down the walls of Syamxia... since when have you learned manners? Very well... I suppose that if I have to wait for you to conclude your buisness deal, then perhaps I should add an incentive for you to finish it... NOW!"

Stabbing his sword into the ground, the Skull Knight begins to exert his power, dark energies flowing through out the entire building, all the time the helmet still staring at Michrael.

The Skull Knight was baiting him.

[Lady Tialait]

Darrmoon, the Dining Table

Darrmoon's will was not enough to remove the Dark Carnival from his home plane. This place would not submit to his divine rights. He looked around the quasi-joyful music playing in a mockery of all things youthful. Darrmoon felt himself fall into the depression of the ages.

Two eyes opened in front of Darrmoon in midair, connected to nothing. The particular eyes looked down and a red dot below them widened to what seemed to be a smile. The smile slowly opened at Darrmoon, a single word was spoken.

"Hi."

Darrmoon then understood. Mumbles was not gone yet.

[planswalker]

"Yes... Marshall of Angels, the mindless ones may count little in your eyes... and yet you attacked us without provocation, simply because you claimed to be dealing justice. Let me ask you this Marshall of Angels... you claim righteousness because we are monsters who kill... but let us compare ourselves... Angels and Liches... look inside you Mashall of Angels, and you shall find that the blood on your hands far outweigh any Lich found in Symaxia."

"Have you already forgotten? The Genasi of Fury still cry out for vengeance! Or have you already forgotten that it was you, who gave the order to fire your beam of death? What about the Fallen Ones whom you have killed Kinslayer? What about the rage swelling deep inside you which causes you and your kind to lose yourself to your insanity?"

"Look at yourself Marshall of Angels... you have become the murdering monstrous aberration which you seek to fight... deny it all you will, hide behind your false mantle of the light... but you cannot deny yourself."

"Enough talk however! Let us resolve this like you have always resolved any problem... with bloodshed. I have already bested your elder, the Ironmaster on his own terms, and you shall be no different"

"Oh... am I bothering a buisness accord? Strange... I do not recall you exercising such restraint when knocking down the walls of Syamxia... since when have you learned manners? Very well... I suppose that if I have to wait for you to conclude your buisness deal, then perhaps I should add an incentive for you to finish it... NOW!"

Stabbing his sword into the ground, the Skull Knight begins to exert his power, dark energies flowing through out the entire building, all the time the helmet still staring at Michrael.

The Skull Knight was baiting him.

Michrael

The skull knight's words were not ignored, but neither did they wrack him with guilt. He had forgiven himself, as had Solaron. He has learned to personally master his curse, and was in complete control of himself once more. Though he had caused much destruction while fallen, and had part of the blame for the destruction that the Genasi had suffered, he had come to peace with himself over it. His mind was clear and he was in control of his divinity. He now was ready to make amends for his sins in such manner as those he had wronged would allow him to.

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do up in dr to 2. He's now a paladin 20

ap: 1=4-3(dr increase)

some actions that he's done:

evolved twice
created two utility artifacts to support the angels
created a utility artifact to oppose the undead

that's five actions right there of three different categories.

This undead... abomination, however, was a blight upon the very fabric of existence that needed to be purged. If it would not wait any longer, than he would take care of this right now, but not here. There were too many people around who could be caught in the crossfire.

Emboldened by his realization that he was mentally prepared for this fight, Michrael unsheathed his crimson sword with a gold-inlaid hilt and likewise stabbed it into the floor. Crimson light flooded the place and counteracted the darkness. After whispering something to Blue, who then flies off on some errand, he turns and addresses the saerite who wanted to negotiate with him.

"I or a representative shall be back shortly to continue our business."

After concluding all that, he once again addresses the Skull Knight and says,
"If you demand that we have this out now, then meet me at the spot where Tranquility was destroyed."

With that, Michrael teleports to the ruins of Tranquility.

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