FenrikFenrik gets the uncomfortable feeling his master heard what he said, despite the still features of the mask. He makes his way inside, his steps a bit more hurried than usual. Nilvath keeps his gaze fixed on him; to stay here alone like this gives somewhat the impression of superiority, or atleast an uniqueness, over the other gods. Fenrik knows better than to remark on it. He starts to bow, but the next moment an explosion of sound and movement fills the room.
The Dark God opens himself and his flocks storm out, the black swarm of Fenrik's nightmares. They are a handful at first, but hundreds in the blink of an eye, ragged, black birds trailing red like pieces of bloody meat, eyeless and hungry. They become a living cage of beating black wings and croaks around him, drowning out all other sound, claiming all free space. Razor-sharp beaks and claws cut away at him, drawing blood, forcing him to his knees. [2] Fenrik can think of nothing else but the birds and protecting himself, but there is nowhere his feet can take him, nothing his arms can do to protect himself. He falls to the ground with a whimper - at the same time, the great doors of the domed chamber are slammed closed by the force of the black swarm.
The birds withdraw, surging into Nilvath's robes, into the darkness inside. Soon they are all gone, a part of the Tormentor once more. How this divine sorcery works, Fenrik cannot know.
'Let that be a lesson,' his master says, the voice that grips his heart.
'Well... those fools cannot hear us now. I have great plans for you, 'Fenrik'. Obey without question.'His fiery eyes seem to seethe with fury once more. Nilvath looks aside, fingers tightening around his staff.
'Go with these others, to the worm-place of Atropol. But know you have a deeper purpose. You are an instrument of my will! The Black Order will do as I command! Your blade in the dark is needed, assassin... one of your own has betrayed me, hidden herself from my sight, fled from my wrath! You will find her, kill her, flay her, tear her, burn her! Should you fail, you and all your order will be put into the pain-machines to suffer for all of eternity. I will oversee it personally.'
'The traitor may be at Atropol, but perhaps not. Seek for her, wherever you go. Do not rest until she is yours! If the rest of this fool's errand suffers because of it - I care not. You will obey! Oh, but... should you get the chance to kill the bitch-goddess Weaver's servant, take it! But do not let the blame fall on me, no, no. The same goes for the wild goddess and her worm. They have their plots and secrets, they must have - you will break them, ruin their plans, thwart them at every turn. Chaos will reign.'He towers over Fenrik, ever-suspicious and wrathful, ready to punish for any reason at all.
HP: 40/40
Shields: 4/4 Resistance [Absorb 3-6 damage per hit]
Skills: Born to Run,
StealthyAbilities: None
Equipment: +
Magbow [Dam: 3/RoF:1/Acc:+0/Clip:10/Mod Slots None/Special: Long Range IV] [
10/10]
+
Burst Shielder [Can take 4 Hits before shattering. Absorbs 3-6 damage per Hit. +1 Shield Regen.]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
***
DustDust follows the twisting corridors, narrow and of ancient stone, until she reaches a chapel-like chamber claimed by the Weaver. She has had time to spread her machinery into the ceiling and walls, and now hangs suspended, silent. Dust moves carefully into the center of it all. The Weaver is too busy with a multitude of projections and screens to notice her at first. When she does, however, those projections surround Dust herself. Before her face appears a map, centered on what must be this fortress - even the camps outside are visible, if only barely. This must be from the great Godseye, the divine machine in the skies that allows them to see anywhere on Elysium. To be granted a view must be a great honor.
'Ah, Dust, Dust...' the Weaver greets at last. She turns in her supports to peer down on her servant.
'I have a task for you, a secret task, a task you will tell no other. Atropol is of little significance. Or is it? Self-doubt gnaws at me - the feeling is exquisite!' The map moves, panning to the north-west. A swathe of dark blue breaks the endless shades of red, a lake in the wilderness. Specks of dirt are huddled at one edge, and a larger black shape arises from the centre of the lake.
'This is... Baiqal? Baikanla? Baikchakl? The names change; the meaning remains. You will pass through on your journey. It may be wise to stay, for a while, at least, despite what the others might think. The lake-town is a meeting place, and one of secrets. Find what you can. That is not your task yet, however - patience, patience! No, that is to be found northwards, between that place and the place of Atropol.'The Weaver gets a far-away look in her eyes, moving uneasily against her supports. A machine arm descends and begins cutting into her flesh, though if she feels pain, she does not show it. Her mistress often alters her own self on a whim, sometimes more directly than others. Soon enough she speaks again, however;
'I have seen it, seen those of the other worlds. A great ram, wreathed in fire, did descend from the skies, a thing not of here. Find it for me, champion, and find all you can. It is off your path-' and here the map moves north and east, moving off a road from the lake. It pauses somewhere in the true wilderness.
'-but you will persuade or make your companions follow you there. Or not. Perhaps it would be best not to. They are not to be trusted. The decision is yours; it is a heavy one, and may it be difficult for you.' She lets the map stay there, perhaps awaiting Dust's response, or just distracted by other things already.
HP: 40/40
AP: 20/20 [-4 to all Damage]
Skills: Aggressive FighterAbilities: None
Equipment:+
Hybrasi Greatsword [Dam: 5/Speed: 1/Acc: -1/Special: None]
+
Light Shotgun [Dam:2/RoF:3/Acc:+0/Clip: 9/Mod Slots: 2/Special:
Scatter, Close Range II] [
9/9]
+
Oathsworn Armor [AP: 20, -4 to all Damage]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
***
The WarbreakerRennahn gives her servant a direct path to follow. The corridor leads to a lonely room, broken and grey, with only a slit of a window to give light. It seems like a cell to him. Rennahn waits there, and invites Kazren to sit - not before her, but with her. Away from the others, her posture is tense, tired, and she lets Kazren speak first.
The Warbreaker express his concerns, and his mistress nods in agreement.
'But bear with them you must, Kazren. Be watchful, and trust no-one, but it is best if you remain with them - at least, for now - and make every effort to keep the peace. That is a fine goal on its own, yet there is a higher purpose for you too, Preserver. But let not an old woman ramble. First - what do you think of these... gods?'HP: 20/20
AP: 50/50 [-4 to all Damage, regenerates +5 AP every turn where not hit]
Skills: Augmented Strength,
Preserver's AuraAbilities: None
Equipment:+Bio-Alloy Shield [AP: 20/20, -4 to all Damage, Shield Use: +0]
+
Bio-Alloy Form [AP: 50, -4 to all Damage, regenerates +5 AP every turn where not hit]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
***
ArliaArlia follows her goddess to an abandoned tower, up a dusty, half-way collapsed staircase. Before her, Aeraimua moves with a huntress' grace and softness, disturbing nothing, and Arlia tries to replicate that. They face eachother in the tower - for a moment Arlia thinks this will be another of her goddess' tests and training. She knows to fight, now, but there is always more to learn.
But no - the big cat closes her eyes, and images appear in the air before her.
The first is a vision of the wastes - red dust and stone flashing past, familiar and unknown sights following eachother. There seems to be little point to it, but soon Arlia realizes each picture is a little greener than the other, a little more vibrant, until the land is verdant and rich beyond anything she's seen. Green grass covers the dust, like an enormous oasis, and gentle rain breathes new life everywhere.
The vision ends, and is replaced. She sees the others, her new companions, burning it all. They stand in the flames, black and terrible, while the hungry fire rages on all around them. With a start, Arlia sees herself in the flames, under their cold, remorseless eyes, dying screaming. It is enough to make her shiver.
There is a third vision. She sees... underground? A sense of damp and cold surrounds her. In darkness, she sees a great store of canisters, ugly things of metal and glass. Inside is a black liquid; without a doubt she knows it is deat. In the vision, one is pierced, a microscopic hole, but enough: the blackness fills the earth and spreads out, turning the red lands into black, lifeless and barren. In only moments the blackness has covered the world and sucked out the air, and nothing stirs on Elysium anymore.
That image hangs in place for quite a while, and she feels out of breath herself. Then it is replaced; the canisters, watched over by Aeraimua, being wreathed in green and leaves.
The visions end. She stands before her mistress. Aeraimua's great cat eyes watch her. She does not say a word; she rarely does.
HP: 30/30
AP: 20/20 [+2 to Close Range Damage, -4 to all other Damage.]
Skills: Wasteland HealerAbilities: *
Swarm Scouting [No cooldown]
Equipment:+
Charged Bolas [Dam:3/RoF:1/Acc:+0/'Clip':3/Mod Slots: None/Special: Stunning (-1)] [
3/3]
+
Antique Sixshooter [Dam:4/RoF:2/Acc:-1/Clip:6/Mod Slots: 3 (Free)/Special: None] [
6/6]
+
Wilder Aegis [AP: 20, +2 Close Range Damage, -4 other Damage. 3 turn cooldown to activate after being shattered.]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
***
Author
Topic: Elysium - A World of A Thousand Gods (Chapter I) (Read 16039 times)