"Leave me." You order, ticking your head to the outskirts of the city.
Eric and the Crusaders hesitate but follow your orders with a tight nod.
"Set up your camera on the hill overlooking the city. I want this broadcast to all with eyes to see."
The camera crew give a duck of their heads in silence.
You lift yourself back into the air on your bloody wings. The Plague is in disarray. There is no resistance to your slow flight into the center of the city. No shots to lance against your shield. No colossi to scream their defiance. Scattered across the plaza with red mold are the picked clean, rotting bones of the long dead. You fixate upon a skull -- a small skull. A child's skull.
[15][23][10] The only emotion that rises from within is rage. It burns hot. It burns bright. And it consumes you with its fire. You split apart at the seams. Atom by atom. All that remains of you is iron, fire, and toxic gas. You burn bright. You burn hot. You lose yourself in that rage.
[10[17][16] Runaway fusion reaction isn't a wild reaction. The catalysts and the hydrogen present around you determine how long it lasts. A clever Ascended could theoretically control it by forcing the reaction to burn heavier materials -- with this, one could keep the newborn sun under control. Theoretically.
You decide to test its practical value -- nanoseconds after your loss of 'cohesion' a ball begins to form just a micrometer above the plaza. You toss hydrogen and iron atoms into one another with wild abandon. Then the fledgling star starts to react on its own. It begins to devour the matter nearby, pulling it into its growing bulk while simultaneously trying to push it away.
You splatter your Dust across the plaza to establish a reference point. Its entire purpose is to keep that roiling ball of conflicting forces contained. You fly back to your encampment -- twisting a spear of iron from the corpses of your slain foes as you do. It is within this spear that you trap motes of your essence -- you come to a hill overlooking the city. You plan an equation, a complex trigger that will light the spark of fusion.
You furtively check to see if the camera crew is ready -- then rise upon wings of fire. With a twist of willpower and sinew you hurl the massive, curling spear into the city plaza. It doesn't need to find its mark. Its proximity alone is enough to trigger the reaction.
The stillborn twitching of your star purges without discrimination -- a sudden shockwave, followed by blinding light, then horrifying heat. Naught remains of the city-that-was but a glass crater. The rotten carcasses of ruined and infected buildings. The colossi you have slain. The abominations. Everything. All gone.
You lift yourself lazily, dropping into the center of your encampment. Crusaders scurry away in fear or drop to their knees in prayer.
[26][20[27] You reclaim your form after an hour of struggle. The grass around your feet is burnt, but you emerge from the fire in your 'mortal' form. A mask of iron twists itself around your face, hiding it as you step upon the smoldering, scorched earth. A Crusader-- Eric, rushes to your side and wraps you in a robe. You rest your hand on his shoulder, leaning into him --
You awaken later. Stormmont. Days have probably passed. Clothes are neatly pressed and waiting for you. Eric, the loyal Crusader, sits at your side. William and Emma -- their willpower is close enough to sense. But for now, you rest upon the sheets of white.
You lift your hand to look upon the pale flesh-- it is no longer tanned. Your mesmer must have reset. A frown quirks your lips beneath the iron mask. You look around, and your eyes alight upon a coin of rusted silver and bright gold -- it sits upon your bedside table. You pick it up.
[30] You melt it into slag. You encapsulate the atoms in hydrogen and send them sprawling away.
You shut your eyes -- and the coin sits perfectly formed within your hand. The bed still bares the marks of the molten metal.
Fascinating.
Pheonix
Local Time: Before dawn.
You are missing your left arm.
Laterally, across your chest, is an ugly scar.
Your hair is red.
Cohesion: 20%
You are full
Nanofeast satiation: Five meals (5x10,000kcal)
Max Willpower Linear Distance: [55 meters]
Max Willpower Diameter: [55 meters]
Sustained Powers: 2/5 (Bird of Sol's Reign), (Sol's Glamor)
Overload: Trained
Bird of Sol's Reign: Great
Light of Sol: Novice
Conquerer's Aura: Initiated
-Voice of the Queen: Initiated
Inferno : Great
-Hydrogen Embolism: Novice, Horrifying
- Slayer's Blade : Initiated
-- Slayer's Shotgun : Initiated
- Controlled Fusion Reaction : Initiated
- Uncontrolled Fusion Reaction : Initiated
Healing Factor: Qualified
- endurance Boost: Amateur.
-Strength Boost: Initiated.
Energy Manipulation: General Novice.
- Energy Manipulation: Lightning Novice.
Matter Manipulation: Silicon:: Experienced
-Silicon Sunder: Amateur
Matter Manipulation: Iron: Amateur
Matter Manipulation: Chlorine: Amateur
Skill: Charisma: Apprentice
Skill: Attrition Warfare: Apprentice
Skill: Marksmanship: Proficient Cephie Lavoisier's Verbal Oath One owed Favor: Ashley 'Ashes' SolContract with the Retributionist's Valhol' Pirates, AKA the Twelve Clans of Old Skarin Grandmother(adopted): Mother Nicole Gainer
--Contactable in Person
--High Influence with Scholars, Crusaders, the Thornton Family
Ruled Nation: Pheonix's Holy Fortress-State
A dominant power on McCreary's Planet, despite its new foundation. Currently pursuing a policy of aggressive reclamation.
-Ruled by a council, headed by yourself.
-Theocratic Dictatorship
-The citizens revere you as their new God.
--Contactable in by Datapad.
Organization: The Children of SEED
Nine individuals, with the minds of automata and the bodies of men and women. Their very presence grates on your nerves.
--Contactable in person, or by radio.
Organization: The Thornton Family
--Contactable through Emma
--High Influence within Steelworks 9 Region
--Subservient to you
Organization: Thornton Warmachines
A complement of hulking Thornton soldiers turned into cybernetically augmented heavy-duty infantry. Equipped with fusion reactor based las-gun assault rifles, Inferno Shotguns, super thick armor, and technicians standing by. They are also equipped with inter and intra-squad radio communicators.
--Lead by William Thornton
Organization: The Crew of Retributionist's Valhol, the Twelve Clans of Old Skarin
A motley collection of nearly three hundred pirates, who have crashlanded in the Outlands some thousand years ago. They are a representative populist enterprise.
--Lead by Captain Murdach Valhol.
--Contactable by Empyreal Communication Relay Network
Potential Husband, Threat: Rekhyt Samkrend/Khudal Cityclan
An Outlander Prince. The third child of Khaganate Samkrend. A sharp wit and a sharper blade.
--Contactable in person
Servant, Friend?, Occasional Lover: Cephie Laviosier.
An Ascended under contract to you for the next twelve years. She manipulates carbon and carbon-based structures.
--Contactable in person, or instant message
Mercenary: Murdach Valhol
Captain of the Retributionist's Valhol.
--Contactable by Empyreal Communication Relay Network
Ally, Subservient: William Thornton
Leader of the Thornton Family of Businessmen.
--Contactable in person, or by radio.
--High influence within the Thornton Mercenaries
--High influence within The Thornton Family
--Feared within Steelworks 9 Region
Personal Scientist, Ally: Silas Thornton
--High influence within The Thornton Family
Consort, Annoying Oracle: Emma Thornton
--Contactable in person, or by radio.
--High influence within The Thornton Family
Pet, Threat: Mitch, the Barker
A bristly furred, stubby faced hellion of a canine that will possibly mutate in the future. His fur is a rusty red, mixed with brownish gray. His eyes are starting to be tinged with bright, electric blue.
-10/50 Obedience
-?/50 Affection
-5/50 Respect
Pheonix's Fortress-State (McCreary's Planet)
Theocractic Dictactorship
Capital: Fortress City of Stormmont
Population: 4*10^6
Military: One (1) Corps of Active Duty Hover Craft Deployed Crusaders (Baseline, Mark 1, Hardened){Stationed in Stormmont, Fortified}
Three (3) Corps of Active Duty Defense Militias (Baseline, Mark .5){Stationed in SEED Holy Land, Fortified}
One (1) Corps of Active Duty Hover Craft Deployed Crusaders (Baseline, Mark 1, Hardened){Stationed in SEED Holy Land, Fortified}
One (1) Corps Reserve Crusaders (Baseline, Mark 1, Underequipped){Stationed in Stormmont, Fortified}
One (1) Company of Thornton Warmachines (Baseline, Mark ~1, Hardened Veterans){Currently Fighting in Steelworks Number Nine}
Commodities of Note: Nutrient Bar Rations [Food Stuffs] (equilibrium), Hydrogen Fuel Supplies (deficit), Medical Supplies (equilibrium), Consumer Goods (deficit), Electronics (deficit), Steel (equilibrium), Bioplastics (deficit), Chemicals (surplus), Luxury goods (low deficit), Alchoholic Beverages (surplus), Slug Weapons (deficit), Beetle Products (glut)
Quality of life: Food, clean water, lighting, sanitation, universal literacy, universal healthcare, universal higher education, lack of culture, lack of luxury, religious restrictions, and lack of universal rights
Population Morale: Medium
Government Legitimacy: Moderate.
Economy: Non-existant, survival focus
Territories: SEED Holy Land
Ethnic Groups of Note: Thornton Family Group (Unified, Loyal, Criminal), Hoganson Family Group (Unified, Remnants), Sandsper Family, (Unified, Criminal, ? ? ?), Twenty Minor Families(Unified, Criminal), Western Outlanders (Remnants, ? ? ?), Eastern Outlanders (Twenty Clans, ? ? ?)
Poll
0 (0%)
Author
Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 258553 times)