Matridom's body, lifeless lay there on the ground. The energy inside her, uncontrolled spread though out her body, when it swelled to much to be contained, Her body lit with blue fire. Deep blue smoke poured into the sky, some might see dragons within the smoke if they look close enough. It was visible for miles around. Her body would burn into the night.
Matridom died with a smile on her face, protecting the only friends she ever had from a not-so-immortal bird.
The cloaked man, Ramba, walked into the center of the dark hall. The men covered in black furs were too shocked by his boldness to even attempt to stop him. He stopped once he was in full view of everyone, and pulled back his hood to reveal his face, and his golden hair. The brutish man by the throne recognized him at once, and stepped in front of his king to protect him from whatever the invader might attempt. Over a dozen raiders slowly circled around Ramba, crude spears and cudgels waving at him. Ramba dropped his cloak to the ground, leaving only an olive tunic and woven leggings covering his body. The old sun priest looked up to his wife, whose face was soaked with fresh tears when she saw him. His son looked down at him with a curious stare.
Ramba nodded, and smiled at his son, who seemed to recognize him and cooed. That was what he would be fighting for.
The foul old man hiding on his throne shouted an incoherent order, some language Ramba did not know, and the minions charged. Ramba was no melee combatant, but his power was vast. One dozen men rushed him, and one dozen sharp golden tendrils pierced their chests. A collective groan slowly eked out of their throats before their frames smacked the ground. Only about eight others remained, who all rushed him at full speed. Ramba would normally have been terrified, but he was not about to die to men like these.
The first pair came at him and swung their cudgels at his head. Ramba ducked and let the weapons collide over him, stunning their wielders long enough for him to eviscerate them both with a searing aura from his hands. Another rushed from the front only to be bisected by the razor wire of a tendril he had conjured. A club hit him in the back and bowled him over, but he rolled onto his back and extended his hand, a flurry of tendrils stabbing through the remaining soldiers behind him.
There was silence in the room as the slaves watched in amazement. It took them ten seconds to realize their guards were all dead, but after that they didn't hesitate to flee the cave as fast as their feet would carry them. Ramba stood up and dusted himself off, preparing to turn to face his rival from the previous encounter only to discover that he was already less than a foot away. A massive forearm connected with his face, shattering his nose and possibly several other bones as Ramba fell to the floor, pouring out blood from the ruined construction of cartilage. The bald man's beard brushed up against his face as the behemoth lifted him up, and stared him down. Ramba let a tendril loose and pierced the man's stomach, who cursed at his stupidity in his own foul language before immediately grabbing hold of Ramba, using his own embedded weapon against him as he swung him into a nearby pillar.
The strength of the bald man was inhuman, and shattered the pillar and Ramba's left arm as he was tossed through it. Rubble coated the older sun priest as he fell onto his back on the other side, a dozen tendrils wildly grasping at the bodyguard as he roared and attempted to rip through. The mass of tentacles lifted him at breakneck speed into the ceiling above and crashed into it with tremendous force. Then again, and again, and again, each time leaving a greater indent in the roof of the cave. Tremors began to shake the room before Ramba's concentration broke from the horrible pain that was beginning to seep in through the adrenaline. The body of the bald man fell from the roof, nearly twenty meters before crashing into the ground a bloodied and smashed wreck of a creation. Bones stuck out in horrible places, and sharp remnants of stalactites covered his skin and were scattered as large chunks all around him. Ramba got back to his feet, though it took all of his effort not to drop dead at that moment.
With a few uneasy steps he went forward before striding up more confidently to the throne where that foul old man sat, who now looked more terrified than anything. "P-please." The old man said in a rough approximation of Ramba's old language. "I give power, great gifts to those who spare me! Not wish to harm your people, only bring greatness to my own!"
"Your men murdered my brothers and burned my village to the ground, "king", you will die a death as pathetic as befits you."
The sour shell of a king began to sweat profusely as he thought, before he suddenly lunged into action, revealing a crude stone knife and pushing it up against the throat of Ramba's wife. She gasped in terror, and the baby began to cry and wail as the king stared the supposed savior down.
"You let me go, or your beloved shall die, priest. Not so high and might now, are--"
His words were cut off as a jagged golden spike drove itself up its through and out of his eyes. He gurgled and yelped in a muffled tone before he fell to the wall and slumped down, dead. The grotesque murder weapon dissipated, and Ramba's wife rushed forward to embrace him with her free arm. Ramba let out a yelp of pain, and she pulled back. After another moment, Ramba moved forward on his own, and brought her close with the arm he could still use.
"I have missed you, Shal."
His wife, Shal, could say nothing. She only cried tears of joy at the sight of him. Eternity passed as the two let the horrors of the last few months slip away for that fleeting moment. She looked up at him and whispered, "I knew you were alive. They could never killed you."
"No one could." Ramba told her. "Not while I have someone important to protect."
The moment was beautiful to the two of them, and was as fleeting as beauty was it was no cosmic shock to discover it would not last. A content look on Ramba's face turned to twisted agony as a jagged piece of stone shot through his stomach, embedding itself within and poking out on the other side. Shal shrieked in horror and both of them caught sight of the bald man, chuckling to himself at the accuracy of his throw. His last breath faded, leaving a smile on the monster's face.
At the same moment, the cavern began to groan under the strain that Ramba's destruction had put on it. Rocks began to fall from above, a massive chunk of dark stone falling from directly above the reunited family. Ramba wasted no time in pushing Shal and his child out of the way, but his body was slowed by pain, and he collapsed to the ground as the debris crashed next to him, his already shattered arm caught underneath it. A horrible scream erupted as Ramba felt the full rush of pain, barely audible over the apocalyptic cacophony all around them. "Go," he shouted to them. "Go west to the home of a man called Zero! He will protect you, I promise."
Shal attempted to protest, but Ramba insisted in a desperate tone that she needed to go. She looked at her son; their son. She nodded to him and turned her back to him as she fled the cavern. Ramba smiled as his vision darkened. He felt a great weight lifted off of his shoulders, as if his life's mission had been completed. He admired the surreal beauty of the catastrophic scene around him. In a way, it was peaceful, all of nature's fury in full glory for him alone to view. He felt darkness tapping on his shoulder to invite itself in, but he welcomed it. In his mind, he had already befriended the darkness, and he would be glad to have its company in these final moments. The two lay on the ground together, taking in the sights of glorious stream of rubble, and the bits of light peeking through the very top...
[hr]
Years would pass in relative peace. The infant grew into a boy, and in time would become a man, like his father before him. No one in the village had ever met him, but they had heard stories from the boy's mother of courageous man that he was, sacrificing his life to save her and her child. She used a word none of them had heard before, from a language none of them knew, but they had a word of their own that they described him with; she had never given his name, so her neighbors knew him only as Hero.
The boy was liked by many, but they all found him very curious. Wherever he went seemed to be enveloped in an aura, as if everything was brighter. His hair seemed to shine in an unnatural way, even its golden color was foreign to them. But strangest of all was what he would do on the full moon. When it shone high in the sky, he would go down to the river bank in those calm nights and sit with his feet in the water. He would be alone for several hours, but after a long period of solitude some who spied on him claim that he was joined by another. A much older man, seeming so gaunt that it was as if he were on death's door, or already past it. Yet there was spring in the way he walked, a vibrant energy that seemed to be the kind of enjoyment only the most optimistic could get from life; and all of that despite missing his left arm. The two would sit there the entire night and talk, laugh and would seem to be the best of friends; or even family. There they would be at twilight, and there they would remain until dawn, each parting their separate ways. The man would go east, toward the rising sun and the day before. And the boy would go west, both away and with the sun into the new day ahead.
That was so cheesy I think I'm going to go grab a bottle of wine. But I figured if this was prehistorical I needed a good legend or two to craft.
[HEADING=1]As the Romans do.[/HEADING]
Plain walked through the small village. It had been a rough adjustment to get used to the Romans taking over, but he had finally gotten used to it. Luckily, unlike his ancestors, his powers had evolved into more of an Aura than anything physical, but he could still manifest it to increase the effectiveness of it. he wandered around the city, and said a simple greetings so the people he passed, wishing them luck at endeavors or just a simple conversation. He was fairly well liked in this town, as he stopped the "Demonic Possessions" as the people called it. He was known as the towns Exorcist, and would cleanse the Devil from anyone he could, from anywhere he could.
He wandered down a street, and people sprinted around a corner, almost falling in the dust from the torque. They sprinted to him and latched themselves on to his cloak, and began to plead to him. "Brother is sick" the little child wailed at him. The older one continued the explanation more fluently. "Our brother, he randomly fell ill, and has began to speak in tongues, we worry he has the devil inside of him.".
Plain chuckled and then rubbed the small childs head, "Lead the way and I'll help" he said as he began to walk the way they came around the corner. They ran ahead of him which forced him to break into a small run, not easy in the sandals he had donned on.
When he made it into the house, he could hear something was wrong, it was unlike the brothers had said. He walked into the house and was lead straight into the teenagers room. He was bed ridden, and had wet cloth over his head. he was muttering incoherently to himself. he felt his forehead, and put some of his energy into the man, to see if it helped at all. When he felt no stopping, he sighed, of both relief and annoyance. "He is not possessed. He is just slightly ill, keep looking after him and call for an actual doctor, they should be able to help more than I can in this situation." he said and quickly left to their thanks and apologies for the annoyance.
He continued wandering the street, awaiting till he found another actual possession, rather than just a simple illness. Someone was going around giving illnesses to people, that no matter the treatment, wouldn't leave until they died. Unless Plain intervened. He seemed to be one of the only people who could stop it. He had formed an elite group of people to help, or to people help stop the person who was causing this. They were known as simply the "Exorcists", some where well known, others were not. He continued moving around, awaiting a call to another "Possession"...
Enjoy, post yourselves doing stuff.
Simple to say this but you are all apart of the Exorcists for some reason. Whether to help me cure people, whether to just fight and stop this. Or just to fight and kill. Or information. Anything really, but you are all apart of it... Will actually include plot soon, but I know whats going on.
Shouts of alarm and urgency carried through the streets as dozens of Roman soldiers pounded the dirt roads compact as they rushed to some established meeting place. Most of the people that watched them go by thought that it was some form of crackdown; someone had been misbehaving to the extent that the entire garrison would be after him.
In that they were half right.
The soldiers were actually running to one of their local barracks, which had caught fire. Again. For the fifth time in the last three months, in fact. The Centurion had grown furious over the case of the arsonist, and had been devoting much of his time simply into capturing the miscreant; not only had he failed to do this, but every time he came closer something happened in retaliation. A soldier would be found beaten half to death on the edge of town, stripped naked, or that week's supply wagon would be looted, and the men would go half-starved for days. No one had died yet, but many men were forced to retire from the severity of their injuries, and the Centurion was at his wit's end.
The fire was larger than the last time, having engulfed an entire room's worth of bedding, and the buckets of water they had available seemed nearly useless against the growing inferno. The soldiers panicked even as they fought the blaze, convinced that this time they would lose the whole barracks. They were so caught up in this struggle that they failed to notice a figure dart around a corner and out of sight.
As soon as he was sure the Romans were out of sight, Zech rose to his feet and carefully blended in with the crowd. Full name Zechariah, he was an immigrant of sorts to the town. He had been abandoned by his parents and adopted by a local Jewish farmer and raised in their ways. But the Roman occupation stirred some holy wrath inside of him, and he felt that full-out rebellion was the only answer to their crimes, both real and perceived. His body was that of a farmer's son. He was no taller than even the average villager, but his shoulders were squared and strong. He had little fat on his bones, but had a muscled frame, thin as it was. His skin was tan from being out in the sun so often, but most villagers would think he were an indoor worker. He did not know where he came from, but it was somewhere with less heat than here; his skin had been much lighter than his family's as a child, and even now with his darker complexion his skin was a shade lighter than his mother's.
To hide this, he wore a cloak most of the time. It was green, and extremely ragged, patched in many places. His mother told him that they had found him with it, and it was some sort of family heirloom dating back to the founder of his bloodline. He had never heard any more about this mysterious man, but he held no sense of wonder or respect for him. Rather he wished to meet him solely so he could beat him for the curse he had laid on Zech.
His hair was bright, shining even in its golden color. He cropped it short so stray hairs would not poke out from his hood and spook the villagers, but inside he knew they were all aware of his deformity. Even now as he joined the crowd they gave him a wide berth. He grimaced, but inside he felt no anger toward them. As much as he hated their own hatred, he had sworn to protect these people, both from the Romans and from whatever supernatural terrors might assault them. That was why he had agreed to join the Exorcists several years ago.
Zech noticed that Plain, the founder of the group, was presently only a block away; he changed course and walked over to him, chuckling to himself at his "prank" on the soldiers.
"Did you see them running?" He asked, in a somewhat gravelly but unmistakably young voice. "I think they're gonna lose the whole barracks this time.
I'm so sorry I'm cluttering the forum, but DAMN that post was GREAT!
I loved your character, both badass and makes perfect sense. I just hope you like it too.
I'll think of something to introduce my character. Have no idea how to drop him into the plot. Maybe you could come by my house for a drink? I'll look for any opportunities in the future.
Matrion was walking though the village she had called home for the past 10 years. She wore a long black monk-like robe, the sleeves being longer than her arms and her hood was always up to keep her appearance secret from the village. Matrion knows better than to show people what she looks like. Others have been only accused of things she could do and they were burned. She had been alive for 32 winters and knew what she had to do to survive.
She was walking down the street this morning hen a group of Roman soldiers started to charge down it. only having a few seconds to react Matrion ducked into a nearby alleyway to avoid them. She held her breath in fear of the Romans or public had found out about her. A minute had passed and the soldiers went by without incident. She stepped out of the alleyway and back into the street.
Most of the folk around here think she is a monk or something of the sort, she doesn't get in the way and stays quiet. Matrion decided to follow the soldiers to see what the fuss was about. Arriving at where the barracks is, there was a huge fire raging in it. "Not even the Romans deserve this." she said and walked off to a corner and found a bucket. She filled it up with water from a nearby well and brought it over to the soldiers putting it down. then grabbed an empty one from them and repeated the process.
Zech raised a hand in confusion, water droplets gently splattering on it before a downpour came with the force of a tidal wave. In a moment he and plain were soaking wet as the storm rolled in to put out the fire. He couldn't say anything in protest before a terrible howling echoed through the village. His face suddenly twisted into a scowl as he realized who was behind the sudden storm.
"That whore!" he shouted in a mix of disbelief and rage. "That was the biggest fire yet! I was gonna do it this time, I was gonna drive them out of the village, and she puts it out?! What does she even think she's doing, blatantly showcasing her powers like that?!"
He growled before storming off under a bit of awning on a nearby building, where he slammed his fist into the mud and stone before calming down, putting his back to the wall and sulking as he waited out the storm.
The soldiers let out a large "Hoorah!" as the barracks was saved. one of the soldiers came over to thank Matrion for her help. The man stuck out his hand for her to shake, "Thank you for the help, umm... Ma'am?"
Matrion started to back away slowly, the soldier got a puzzled look on his face and advanced. the process repeated for 3 more times then Matrion turned and broke into a full on sprint. The soldier followed her and started to shout "Stop in the name of the emperor!".
Matrion kept on running, on the fly she started to jump over small boxes and things. the soldier easily kept pace with her. villagers started to wonder what was happening and a small mob formed behind the soldier. The chase lasted a good ten solid minutes of running. Matrion finally tripped and hit the ground, hard.
The soldier walked up to her, "Ma'am i just wanted to say thank you for helping with the fire, but why did you run?" Matrion looked away in shame. The soldier reached down and pulled her hood down, There was a gasp from the mob and the soldier from the sight of the sky blue being. someone from the mob called out "Burn her, she's a demon!" Matrion started to sob softly until the soldier knocked her out. The last thing she remembered hearing was "Burn her, Burn her, Burn her!" from the mob.
Zech lifted his head up as he heard a sound off in the distance. If Plain had said anything to him he hadn't heard it; he stepped out from under the awning, his mouth slightly agape as he caught snippets of the chanting of a mob. "Do you hear that? Sounds like a lynching... I'll be back."
He leaped onto a crate before dragging himself up onto a roof. He inched across the rooftops before he discovered the source of the racket. A soldier and a crowd were gathered around a woman he recognized as Matrion lying unconscious on the ground. Another Exorcist.
Damn it! he thought to himself. What is wrong with you? How did you get caught? What do I do now??!
He resisted the urge to roar in anger and continued to watch the crowd. He already knew what he would have to do; this village was very faithful, and he knew how to manipulate that to save her. But not yet, he would wait until the appropriate time.
The chanting mob brought Matrion to the center of the town, and strung her up on a cross. They used rope doused in water, for they wouldn't chance the ddemon prying itself free from the nails. A full force from the barracks was there gaurding her. after an hour most of the residents had gotten there and took up standing before her, chanting "Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!"
She woke up to the sound of them chanting. "What happened, why am i up on this..." She went wide eyed at the fact she was about to be lynched. "No no no! this is a misunderstanding!" she looked down upon the people who were once friendly to her, yet at that time the didn't know what she looked like. "please, you all knew me, you helped me and shared bread with me!" but it was no use, the mob was still chanting. The priest was making his way from the church to the town center, you could see where he was by the amount of smoke trailing into the sky, moving about.
All the time this was going on, a scratching at the back of her mind formed, like something wanted to come out and play.
You guys mind sitting back and watching this one, its kind of like her wright of passage.
Garerus was spending most of his time beneath a tree outside the city, sitting and whistling happily as he sharpened an arrow head with a good stone he found nearby. He hadn't a care in the world at the moment, and that was the way he enjoyed it most. He was spying the arrow head very carefully, and his eyes were lighting up slightly as he worked. He blew on the tip of it and smiled with satisfaction, placing it inside of his quiver. He stretched his legs before wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, masking himself in a red color. He felt comfortable as he layed there, his light chain mail bouncing happily on his chest as he almost faded off to sleep...
Which is when he heard the commotion coming from the nearby village. He sighed as he picked himself up and dusted himself, reaching down to bring his longbow up to his shoulder. His quiver rested nicely on his back, strapped with thick leather. In reality, he was a member of the roman army, a Saggittarii, but he disliked that more than anything. He had immense respect in his work, being the best shot out of anyone he had ever met, But he still never felt free, which is why he deserted his fellow soilders, and made contact with the "Exorcist" Group. They gladly accepted him, but now it was partly his job to help and protect people.
He walked like every step was killing him as he made it to the village to see what was going on. He spotted from the crowd two of his fellow group mates, and decided to elevate himself, while giving some encouraging hand gestures. He made it up to where he could see the scene unfold, and lazily brought his bow to a more ready position, ready to fire if things got hairy.
I'm going to bed so i'll rush this and have Plain (Dragon) arrive so i could start this, along with Zech (CJ) on a nearby rooftop watching.
It had taken a while for the priest to arrive at the center, because he was creating a Holy wall around the outside of the city to avoid other demons from getting in. He had finally arrived, Plain walked to the back of the Mob, watching with Zech on the Rooftops also watching.
The priest had brought with him, a cross baring a candle on top of it. He was reciting words from the sacred documents to cleanse the town and all of its inhabitants. He approached Matrion with the cross. "Please don't do this, father, i have done only good for the town!" she cried, tears flowing down her face freely now. He lit the pile of wood at the bottom of the large cross Matrion was strapped to. and the mod cheered with joy and shouts of happiness
As the flames crept up hire ever so slowly she could feel the heat on her legs. While inside her head, the beast was thrashing around now trying to get out. "Why?" Matrion kept on saying over and over. the fire was now at her feet, starting to burn them. She gave into the beast inside her head, feeling nothing could be lost at this moment.
Outside the crowed was still cheering and hollering. one man in the front row saw Matrion close her eyes, and when they re-opened there looked like dragons eyes, blue as the sky. The fire on her legs stopped burning her and it was now dancing up her body. It now had spread over her entire body, and settled in. then the fire sank into her flesh creating designs like tattoos. They were two Asain style dragons running from the back of her hands, up her arms and finally ending by each twisting around the others tail on her back.
"Si mi wer aussir darastrix Eldling! Jaka si mi duulo!" her possessed body shouted. citizens were now running and fleeing in terror of whats happening. the first two benches were empty and they floated into the air and were flung into the fleeing masses, missing them by only so far. The ropes that were holding her in place are now burning and broke. she landed and started walking down the town center, tossing civilians to the side, not caring for who she hurt. The dragon possessing Matrion had created two fireballs and flung them at the Roman guards, setting them ablaze and killing them within a minute. The entire force from the barracks had now arrived and the dragon noted and snarled at them, then took off on foot south out of the town, only making it a mile before stopping and retreating back into Matrion's mind, leaving her unconscious and lying naked on the ground.
goodnight. just had to get that out of the way, i'm done with any major, minor subplot/background plot for her.
"Another town saved by your hand milady? You are to kind to those who have done nothing but trouble you." Onyx said, half as a joke and half completely serious.
Onyx left the trees he had been hiding behind and bowed before Atriums. He remained in that position, yet he moved his head so that he could see Atriums and the other wolves. It wasn't out of fear however, it was simply that he wished to survey Atriums in her glory that few others could without gaining the goddess' contempt. Onyx only wished that he had not gained that.
Onyx wore a black cloak with no sleeves, emblazoned with his ancestors crest which he knew very little of except that he had been an outcast of his family as well. Onyx treasured this cloak, his mother once telling him that this had once belonged to one of their great ancestors even though he was an outcast. Onyx found it hard to believe since the cloak appeared to be in great condition and made from silks that one would find at the markets today, but he cherished the thought nonetheless. On his back was a glaive, one that was recently acquired from a thankful family of farmers Onyx had aided only a few nights ago.
"I hope my presence is not unwanted milady, I was just curious as to what you wished of me. I am at your service whenever you need." Onyx said, bowing his head again.
Off in the distance, Onyx's horse whinnied. Onyx rode that horse from town to town and completed Atriums wishes, but he never overworked the animal or starved it. The horse was not only his faithful steed, but also a friend. That is why Onyx left the horse un-tethered so that if it was ever in trouble it could still run to save itself.
YOU IDIOT! Zech screamed inside of his head as he watched the dragon fly south. What do you think you're doing?! I was going to stop them without violence, and then...
"And then you had to go and screw it up. Damn it, why is nobody else competent around here?"
Zech leaped off of the building and into an alleyway, taking care not to be in any position that any of the panicking citizens would see. He drew the hood even further over his head to prevent being recognized, and crouched as he approached the main street, little more than a crude dirt path down the center of the village. He drew back as one of the remaining Romans poured out of the town, charging down to where they had seen the dragon fly off. Zech snarled, feeling his blood pressure spike for what must have been the tenth time that day as he realized he needed to save her.
Why is nothing simple? he asked himself as he slipped behind the Romans and followed at a short distance as they went into the wilderness in search of his companion.
A man in his 40's, garbed in deep black wandered through the streets confidently towards the chaos and destruction. His hands were hidden in the folds of his long flowing 'Toga Pulla'. His face was gaunt and cleanly shaven. The hair aloft his head was unkempt and a mixture of pitch pitch black and slate grey, a stark contrast to his smooth, pale skin. His eye's were an eerie green accentuated by the deep rings around the sockets, A clear signal to his persistent insomnia.
Next to the man was a girl of small frame, her features were hidden behind a tower of books and loose papers. Her strides were slower than the man adjacent to her as she took careful steps to keep her balance of the pillar of notes she was uncomfortably embracing.
"Hurry, girl. You're an Exorcist now, I shan't have you dawdling when there is work to be done." The man in black said while motioning for the girl to keep pace.
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