Anomaly
New Member
For Hitler.
Posts: 7
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Post by Anomaly on Nov 26, 2014 1:18:41 GMT
-[This is my Serenity.] War was a prominent event within the infinite, many armies eventually leaving their universe after absolute victory. However, there is but one that was driven from their world instead. The fascists had left years ago with technology beyond that of imagination for the era (slight dieselpunk).
They were able to traverse the many universes with the help of the Nethuamamagos: specialized, fully biological warriors capable dimensional manipulation. After many years of preparing under the veil of neutrality, they sought another realm to which they can gorge upon.
Vuuuuuummm… A great hum resonated from beyond the coastal lines, an anomalous shimmer began to grow like a cancer. Slowly the event became clearer to the eye, clouds beginning to swirl around a sudden well of ionization. Brilliant arcs of energy danced about the rim, the air crying in agony as it was torn asunder. Radiation soon began to consume the eddy of clouds, bathing the heavens with photonic blaze. From the depths of this blinding vortex came six vaguely humanoid entities, gliding in formation on excited air. They soon stopped two hundred feet from what was now identified as a portal. Upon their very emergence, the area approximately a singular mile away was bombarded by a myriad of subtle but pandimensionally-charged radio-waves.
These frequencies were given unusual properties; seeded by a peculiar force known that was yet to be discovered by likely targets. If said area was indeed secure, then they would separate from formation, gravitating to the portal’s circumference. Once positioned directly across from one another, they stabilized the gate for something fantastic. Vuuuumm… An immense bow of a ship materialized from the portal, soon the entire ship came to view. It was an aerial aircraft carrier (think Dieselpunk Avengers ship) whose hull was lined by an array of weaponry and energy-distortion devices. It was up to whoever chose to attack the direct source to discover this.
The craft eventually entered the plane fully, leaving the portal to dissipate once figures destabilized the link. What clouds were left would twist where the gateway had resided where picturesque absence now existed. The carrier hovered in place, moving only inches per minute as said figures descended gradually to the deck. As all their feet had touched the alloy surface, their bodies would unleash a cascade of light that soon faded to reveal a more simple form. There each would stand, mysterious to those within the realm until inevitable encounters.
Soon those layered radio-waves were sent via energy disruptors, sending messages to any technology or to those who have ascended. “Veh are zee Vernichtung Sektor. Veh request vhat resources you have or veh vill seize zem by force. You have eighteen hours to comply.”
(Aside from the rushed introduction: Hallo, frau und mann. This is the Nationalsozialismus, so tighten your lederhosen because we are invading. Who are we? We are the Vernichtung Sektor, a division of the occult utilized for complete and utter eradication [of folks like you]. We will be posting two game types that one or more players can choose from when engaged. This will provide fairness with a twist of fun. The rules are typical to TBL but legal retconning is not allowed; if you had something that would have the ability to see it before hand, fine, but if you are blind sided then you cannot suddenly add in something that was not mentioned. Think about it as Chess. The time frame for posting is three days unless the opponent gives a head's up beforehand.)
Invasion: Fight one or more of us in a particular setting within the lands. Our Nethumamagos are scouting and looking for those to strong enough to challenge them. They might be attacking a village or town to draw them out, who knows? Choose from the list or one will speak with you and we can arrange it unless they are locked, which means one has to beat a certain number of Nethuamamagos. Once challenged, the Nethuamamagos will post their introduction and one can take whatever from that:
Eisenwald, the Gatemagos (Locked) Zerstoren, the Armormagos (Locked) Ramstein, the Artillerymagos Araehn, the Shockmagos Spinnitier, the Strikemagos Anfallen, the Assaultmagos
Siege: You attack our flying fortress in an intense story-like mode but the fights are erratic and often one will be outnumbered or at odds. You could be fighting four Nethuamamagos at once if you took a wrong turn or the other way around. Essentially one will try to get inside the carrier and will be given instructions on how to destroy/reconfigure certain mechanisms via mission reports.
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Post by Dias Blade on Nov 27, 2014 3:45:44 GMT
Prior to the incursion...
...Dimensional Rewrite Detected...Analyzing.......... -Data Acquired ---Forced Entry by Unauthorized Forms. ---Tracking Dimensional Coordinates complete. ---Foreign Code deciphered and saved. ---Molecular Structure Scanned and logged. -Security Protocols Initiated ---Pinpointing Entry Zone complete. ---Planet Gaea Exclusion Zone rerouting complete. ---The Ward is now active. ---Level 3 Warning issued.
The Nethumamagos would never had guessed anything was out of the ordinary as they made their grand appearance. All went as expected for them, with their broadcast being sent out across the vast realm. And yet, as they stood there aboard their impressive vessel, something would soon come off as being amiss. Where exactly was everyone? Nothing had gone wrong during their transport. This was indeed the place they had chosen to enter. However, there was not a single soul to be felt, not a presence to be found anywhere. Not even any wild life to speak of. Surely, such a display would have flushed something out of hiding by now. But to one's surprise, this reality came off as almost surreal. As if being a carefully constructed alternate universe of the one that they had their sights set upon.
It would become apparent to them, if they had the capacity or the notion to try and exit this universe they had stepped into, that such methods would prove little to no use. It was as if they were suddenly cut off from the rest of the omniverse, no longer apart of Creation.
Indeed, they were in fact trapped like rats, the price to be paid for attempting to force their way through the protective invisible borders established around the world where the Imperial Capital resided. They would have been far better off coming to their universe in the vastness of space beyond the orbital perimeter of the planet itself and traveled there under their own power, as opposed to employing the same tricks countless others had tried in the past.
The Aesir Empire... A Technological Military Superpower of an Interdimensional Nation. Their territory was vast, hard won through years of war with soldiers and weapons forged in what would have seemed to be endless battles. The Exclusion Zone, which encompassed the entire planet and its orbital domain within its local solar system, was the first line of defense serving as a standard security countermeasure against beings or factions with the capability to warp through space or cross over from other universes. This prevented enemies from just showing up anywhere they wanted at their leisure, and instead forced invaders to take a more conventional approach that would lead them through a gambit of multi-layered lines of defense before ever reaching Gaea itself.
Now, these newcomers were locked within an alternate dimension designed from a man-made universe based on their own. But in here, they would pose no real threat to any of the denizens outside, near the cities or villages themselves. Here, they could be dealt with safely. But such was a double edged sword. Any forces that would be sent in after them would also be unable to leave until all threats were eliminated. Only then would The Ward be unlocked.
Meanwhile, back at Babylon City...
The automated security protocols had already triggered the alarm the exact instant the enemy had first began to actively enter the Exclusion Zone. Chief Commander Aeon Ergo was at the helm in her office, sitting at the nicely polished desk with a series of floating vector monitors displaying the data acquired from the Megethos System as it read the enemy data while they transitioned from one plane to the next. A wealth of information which was already being studied by the top scientists at Ashrum R&D.
All branches of the military had been put on alert status. This first incursion could very well have been a prelude to a much greater attack, and the chances of the Exclusion Zone catching anymore hostile forces in its web was highly unlikely after the first failed attempt. Dispatch orders were sent to the 9th Fleet to send forces from Erimos Fortress, while the Orbital Defense Grid switched over from passive to aggressive mode. The evacuation was also issued to all citizens who quickly went to the nearest Port Gate to be transfered instantly to their local shelter. The basement level of every residence was equipped with one, as well as each business in the commercial district.
At the exact same time, Babylon City which took up damn near the entire continent of Ivalice at this point, began to transform. Streets shifted and moved as massive reinforced walls shot up from every sidewalk and alleyway to shield each and every building. Side panels and rooftops opened to reveal automated weapon systems; missile batteries, pulse turrets, linear cannons, etc. From the Military District, MAF Tanks and APCs filed out of their respective bases in droves, driving out to flood the streets while Tracers took point to secure key vantage points for heavy artillery encampmets to be established and sniper teams to hold up with a wealth of ammo to go around. Soldiers of the IAF formal army were let off not only by armored transport but by dropships as well, launching from the ATF hangars. Ingrid Mecha Battalions likewise took flight and laid claim to the atmosphere, seizing dominance of the airspace in a heartbeat.
Up in space, the Capital Fleet took up its position around the planet with a high concentration above Babylon....well, at this point "Babylon Fortress", to serve as the last line of defense against orbital dangers. The 9th Fleet, however, would work hand in hand with the SOF Crimson Knights to clear out the intruders held captive within The Ward.
"Issue this order. I want Pankraz to lead this one. Tell him to take what he needs to eradicate the enemy. Once they're dealt with, we can use the dimensional coordinates we obtained to mount a counterattack on where ever it is they came from. Whether this is the work of MERKAHBAH or not, we won't let a single enemy live. Understood?" Aeon commanded, taking a swig of her brew before the female dragonoid slammed her desk leaving the dent in it.
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Post by Hero on Nov 27, 2014 10:33:12 GMT
“Gushing lava and bold spiritual excellence streaks across the land like blood split upon the earth... Its presence resonates with my very soul... What is this strange exhilaration I feel?! Ah! My hand! It's...tingling! Flee, wicked ones! Flee while you still can!”
To understand the Hero of Justice and his unmatched love for his people is impossible. From the very beginning the Cursed Gun gave his all to protecting everyone within the Aesir Empire regardless of their ethnic background or their past. It was his passion and dedication to Aeon Ergo, the kingdom, and the people, that made him a frighteningly powerful opponent. Still there had yet to be an enemy that could fell him in the throes of combat, from the Daemonium War, to the War of Vestusio, the young man had survived through the worst and still lived to stand at before any adversary that dared challenge the trained military might of the Aesir Empire. Justice and courage hand in hand he marched down the halls of the Imperial Palace, well-aware of the incursion that suddenly filled the space beyond the city.
Who would dare be so foolish as to challenge them, let alone in the territory where their forces were most powerful?
“Sir Pankraz!” a soldier called out, bowing before him before updating him. “You are ordered to lead the charge against these new forces, and you have the back-up aid of Simca, Esper, Arcaneus, Georg-”
“I would not dare lead thy charge in circumstances so utterly favorable! I have such brilliant allies that Aeon has command over that we will do this together! Inform them all of my decision henceforth, and order them to standby. We are all Field Generals in this matter and will dispose of them all as a unit!”
“Sir!”
The soldier cut down the hallway and disappeared around the corner but there seemed to be no haste in Pankraz's movements. As long as all other offensive units, aerial, above ground, and below ground, were prepared for offensive action the moment that the Crimson Knights took control and ordered such, there was no need to hurry. Nor was there any need for him to speak with the Queen directly. It was painfully clear what needed to happen and the Hero of Justice would by all means annihilate them. Approaching the entrance of the Imperial Palace, gliding across its marble floors with soldiers armed and prepared for battle, Pankraz finally adjusted his intercom-link within his right ear, establishing a wireless communication to all other standby forces.
Within his left hand a violent maroon light appeared, shaking the world around it for but a moment as it manifested some lethal physical construct. Could it be the legendary weapon he had forged at the aid of the resources and scientists within the kingdom? One of the Four Ultimate Weapons of the Aesir Empire as Pankraz described it, the silver fourty-five caliber revolver suddenly appeared in earnest, its barrel shining in the light of the sun positioned in the sky at the hour of noon.
The Artificial Casualty Phenomenon Weapon would do everything to eradicate any enemy before it, especially in the hands of its wielder, Pankraz. Channeling through the incorporeal Casanova System he materialized six Völundr Shells into the weapon before proceeding down the steps infront of the Imperial Palace where Arcaneus waited. Armored in a customized Titan-series exo-armor its exclusive power modifications would prove instrumental in defeating any enemy that dared to stand before him.
Arcaneus however was dressed relatively simple. Aside from his dreaded blue flowing hair and flowing white robes with golden trim, he held a single specter in his left hand – a single globe with a swirling universe within it trademarking his appearance. Always so simple, yet lethal as a member of his respective division within the Crimson Knights.
“Ohohohoh, look who's dressed up.”
“My brother Arcaneus, you will remain here and defend he Queen against any who would dare make their way to the heart of our very kingdom. Simca, myself, and Esper will lead this charge.”
“T'ch! What? Sidelining me again! Let that white-haired scum from Vestusio stay back!”
“He is not a Crimson Knight you blithering idiot and this catastrophe of magnificence could very well be an inherent result of his coming! Along with that other blue-haired fool Dias!”
“Sir!” A soldier cried out from the palace's doors that immediately began to shut behind him, secured by rows of armed soldiers, Power Armors, and hovering Ingrids. “Adell Laemington, the old man who came with Dias and the others...he's gone! His companion Jin is still within but Adell has gone missing!”
“...” Pankraz became silent, glancing at Arcaneus in response.
“Is he one of them?”
“An impossibility! He plans to steal my thunder! My gun hand twitches with the destruction of our opposition yet he plans to rob me of that very right! I will never let something like that puny android steal my praise ever again!”
“...eh?”
“Warp me to the dock just at the edge of the city where all the others are centered and where our enemies await their destruction! Hurry!”
A magnetic field appeared and disappeared in an instant, Pankraz and Arcaneus did the same.
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Post by Dirge on Nov 29, 2014 21:05:37 GMT
“Father… You may want to take a look at this.”
The complex network of technological and magical systems that ran through Vincent Fiorelli’s tower was a thing of legends. Originally, the whole thing was a hunk of obsidian that he had crafted into a suitable lair for his experiments. It was located somewhere in the Sahara, near the Ahaggar Mountains, and surrounded by a lush yet artificial jungle filled with deadly beasts. Hidden from humans and supernatural beings alike, this place provided him with the perfect place to keep tabs on his allies and enemies while continuing to hone his expertise on a variety of areas. It was from this tower that Vincent kept track of different operations and situations across the Multiverse and the Omniverse.
“This is… I see. So they possess a similar system, as well. It is not as refined as the Aguieus or the Lykeios, or even as the system THEY used… But it is functional enough, I suppose.”
The particular link of the tower’s and Hyades’ systems allowed the magister to check up on many things at the same time. His mind could be compared to a supercomputer outfitted with the most advanced technology imaginable, capable of calculating every possible scenario coming out of a specific situation in the blink of an eye. Naturally, this characteristic made it possible for him to squeeze as much insight as possible out of research, made field operations easier, and made direct combat with him something akin to suicide. But for all intents and purposes, his biologically advanced mind organized and rearranged the newfound information as neatly as possible before he’d begin to bark orders here and there.
“Alright, boys! It’s time to head to the Aesir Empire. Our destination is a dimensional anomaly within the Empire which, according to this information, is simply how they deal with warping intruders. Their defense system is fairly well done and it has involved the creation of an alternate dimension or simply the ‘redirection’ of the initial warp variables the invaders used just to toss them into an alternate dimension. As such our destination is…” Vincent particularly loved to ramble and he could talk for hours without interruption. Whether it was about his past travels, his battles, conquests, or simple encounters, there was little that kept the magister from babbling on and on. In fact, most people he had stumbled upon lately often asked him to tell stories and, naturally, he had no problems doing so. Even in the briefing room whenever he was telling his Aspects what to do, he’d sometimes reward them with a story or two so that they might gain more insight by analyzing the bits and pieces of useful information within it.
Through the combination of Hyades’ universally invasive information receptors, something akin to leylines that traveled across the entirety of the Omniverse, the Fiorelli was able to gain the coordinates of the current dimensional anomaly that had been created in the blink of an eye. His fingers blazed across the holographic control panels in front of him, though it certainly wasn’t long before he was able to pull up in an enormous screen…
“… The Ward. It seems that the Aesir Empire’s dominion over both technology and magic is vastly superior to the majority of civilizations across both the Multiverse and the Omniverse. We will be… Aiding an acquaintance of ours there. Granted I have only had one encounter with him, though that was enough to gauge his expertise in the arts of war. He has extended an invitation toward Babylon City which, if I remember correctly based on what he told me, is the capital of the Aesir Empire.” “Group α, you’ll be in charge of protecting the tower until I get back. Ensure nobody closes in on us along with the beasts living in the jungle. They will obey your every command.”
Clad in robes of different colors and sporting a variety of hair adornments, the Aspects bowed toward Vincent before practically warping out of the tower’s main chambers in a burst of purple light. They would surround the perimeter, establishing protective wards and deploying drones of various kinds. Although the tower had its natural defenses, erected by Vincent long ago and constantly undergoing improvements, it certainly didn’t hurt to have an actual defense force in the air.
“Group β and γ, you two will be in charge of providing ground and air support. Pick up any suitable weapons or use the personal storage dimension within your robes to pull out whatever object you may need in the battlefield. I have taken the liberty of sharing some of my stock with you all. See, I’ve recently plucked a number of weapons from a universe constantly submerged in a state of war. Technology appears to develop at an alarming rate there, and though the cost of human lives across the planet seems to be increasing daily, the payoff is well worth it for someone like me. In short… Use whatever you deem fit to help our, heh, friends.” The two remaining groups of Aspects bowed much like the previous one before warping off in a similar manner. They did not, however, transport themselves across a small portion of space; they warped across universes until they were capable of penetrating the Ward and arrive on the battlefield. The readings that marked each and every single Aspect announced them as friendlies, thus allowing them to bypass the defenses of the Exclusion Zone. Instead of accidentally being warped elsewhere, they’d end up in the Ward where the Nethuamamagos’ ship currently resided.
Vincent himself soon arrived on the scene to spearhead the group and, possibly, the assault they would execute soon enough. There was little left to do at the moment but wait for the rest of the forces to arrive.
“I think we got to the party earlier than usual. Let’s see if our friends over at Babylon City are capable of responding…”
Establishing an uplink with the Secret Library and tapping onto one of the many frequencies it was connected to, the magister reached out to entirety of the Capital Fleet as well as toward Adell Laemington – wherever he was. After all, Adell was the one who had invited him over to Babylon City after their encounter so long ago.
“It seems you guys caught a big fish this time around. Name’s Vincent, an acquaintance of Adell Laemington. I’ve reached this zone you guys call The Ward and am currently looking at the enemy’s… Stronghold, to put it simply. Brought a couple ground and air troops to help out, though you seem to have everything under control.”
A cup of the finest porcelain filled to the brim with a cerulean infusion materialized itself out of seemingly nowhere in the magister’s right hand. After clearly taking his time taking a sip of tea, he resumed communications for a brief moment.
“If you have any means of contacting Adell, tell him I’ll be waiting. I’ll be heavily disappointed if he doesn’t show up after introducing me to you guys.”
And with that, Vincent and Hyades simultaneously dropped both ends of the uplink, cutting it short. A gilded armchair surfaced from the earth beneath him and he’d settle himself comfortably upon it, hoping to enjoy the tea left in the cup. All that remained was waiting.
And boy, did he hate it.
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Anomaly
New Member
For Hitler.
Posts: 7
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Post by Anomaly on Dec 2, 2014 0:01:09 GMT
-[Wounded Warsong.] A mile above the waters, winds howled and sang as they danced through the immense rotary engines of the armored carrier. The choir joined the faint thrums of dimensionally-charged fields coming from the aforementioned distortion devices. Truly it was a cacophony to those not inured to such mashing of sounds, rhythm and hymn conflicting. This hardly would bother the Nethuamamamagos who continued to stand at attention before their leader Eisenwald. Not a word was spoken as they awaited further orders, expressionless faces staring forward. All that could be heard from the squad was the erratic, anomalous sea of seeded pulses that seemed to merge with one another. The power became more pronounced; a subtle shimmer beginning to surround them as a whole. However, every pulse was different than the last, emitted from various parts of the body to form a full three sixty degree radius. Those who were capable of sensing these discharges would find them rather peculiar. As if entities rivaling the most powerful of foes clung to their bodies, releasing their own frequency that properly obscured their host.
Each Nethuamamagos was motionless except for Hans who seemed to fidget and glance about the ship’s deck. After all, he was not a soldier but an extremely gifted athlete recruited for his might and prowess whilst others were here for their military expertise. As they all stood in formation, Eisenwald would look to Klaus (Ramstein), but nothing was said. There was only silence and a nod before the leader turned and approached the bow of the ship at a leisurely pace. His staff purred with each clank of its end on the deck’s surface. It was an actual creature; small vestigial arms twitch nearby its belly, its head bobbing slowly. Slowly those tiny limbs began to scratch at the air in front of its abdomen, arcs of static energy beginning to form, stabilized by the host’s field. As he neared the bow, his free hand would lift (just parallel to below the chin) with his index and middle finger extended. Vuuuum… He moved those digits into a downward loop, leaving behind a plasmatic stroke that illuminated his frontal form.
Zis place seems empty, Eisenwald had thought, but still like any other Nethuamamagos he had to be cautionary. Now, now, silence is just a word before you find true happiness, Another voice, the suit itself, answered back to the rhetorical in a lisp-ridden tone much different than the host himself.
The curving line vibrated with minor intensity, pandimensional energies soon galvanizing the mundane particles. Of course this was properly contained by the mentioned pulse field. Meanwhile, just after the nod, Klaus would step from the squad and turn to face them with his free hand supporting his sentient and phallic-shaped cannon. “Veh vill be approaching shore en moment time,” He began whilst looking to his soldiers’ faces, “Hans, stay on deck to protect Eisenvald. Agent Maximillian, prepare to board scout craft vunce lawnd is seen. Agent Hayato, patrol the deck until land iz seen as vell. Agent Araehn, you too vill patrol the deck until further orders. All of you may begin letters nao, but do not engage until ordered. Do I make clear?” Hans quickly announced his displeasure of not being addressed by the ‘agent’ title like his brethren, “Vhat? Vhat about me? I agent, too. Zis ist bullshit.” His protest was ignored by the commander who was now lifting his somewhat normal limb in front of armored chest.
If any see topless ladies, tell Klaus so I can see them. Ho ho! A squeaky, comedic voice would broadcast just after Klaus’ heavily accented words. His suit sounded vaguely like Mickey Mouse, if the character were perverted of course. Hans suit threw in its piece to the conversation, Oi, the air up here is really messing with my sinus membranes, do you think these women like that? Nasally whine instead, almost like your stereotypical Jew.
Unlike the others, Klaus was significantly less armored than the others in the regards of natural plating. Instead he wore a sealed, Kevlar-nylon load-bearing harness housed a plethora of weapons and their ammunition. At his side was a satchel with a red Swastika embossed upon the same material as the vest mentioned.
His arsenal consisted of his retracted langes messer (34” Gas-Extension Phase Hardened Steel Alloy – Minor elemental imbuing) hanging at the side with his prized handgun (12mm Slider) adjacent to the blade. Sheathed upside-down upon the left lapel was Klaus’ infamous double-edged knife (9’ Phase Hardened Steel Alloy), positioned just perfect. Holstered on his back was the quad-barreled coach gun (10 Gauge) while a top-loaded assault rifle hung from his shoulder below the shotgun (7.62 mm). The rifle was all thanks to a man known as Siegfried, granting the Nethuamamagos credit for said upgrade. Ammunition was as followed: 3x 12mm Lead Clips, 2x 12mm Depleted Uranium Core Clips, 2x 12mm Silver Clip, 3x 7.62mm Lead Clips, 2x 7.62 Silver Clips, 1x 7.62mm Depleted Uranium Core Clip, 18x 10 Gauge Ball Bearing Rounds, 4x 10 Gauge Phosphorus Slugs, 8x 10 Gauge Nitrogen Slugs, and 2x Magnesium Slugs. He still wore what armor he had over his shoulders (vented pauldrons of the same material as the mask) and face, yet the mask (titanium-aluminum) was modified to fit large, sealed goggles. Over his attire was a scarf made to cover up the majority of his body but still be considered an article of clothing.
Klaus’ radius was much larger than his brethren, expanding approximately twenty feet out. But like his subordinates, the ‘excited’ particles ventured further. Under the inverse law, they separated every meter, colliding with various surrounding forces. They would ricochet back when met by opposing fields, instantly relaying it back to Klaus. Even if absorbed, detection was still quite possible. As for Hans, he too would begin drawing in thin air, the same visual result applied.
Their leader and other two (Hans and Klaus) also began secondary preparations for the likelihood of an attack despite the area being almost tranquil. Klaus lifted that sentient left arm to heavens at a readied angle (forty five degrees), the luminous tumors upon its side promptly acting. A small cascade of ionizing energy tore through space before it began accumulating; its body beginning to slowly convulse and swell, its soft mandibles pursed together. Hans compacted his body, elbows against his lower ribs with feet shoulder width apart. He was by far the most armored among the Nethuamamagos, covered in tan and black plating. Anyways, his own area of influence inverted, dimensional forces falling into a well of sorts. As for Eisenwald, his sentient staff did the work for him as explained prior. The party knew not of their location just yet, it was up to Eisenwald to complete his ritual for any further information on their location.
[Alright, Nethuamamagos, time for us to begin this ma'fucka. Nethuamamagos, structure your post to this and we'll be set, whoever posts after this we can establish order from there. Edited, had some grammar issues.]
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Post by The Black Wind on Dec 2, 2014 5:57:55 GMT
“My lord, there seems to be a war brewing in the quadrant of Gaea,” the raspy voice of one of his subjects broke through the tumultuous thoughts residing in his head. Though, most of them had been about the very thing the Speaker ministered to him now. He didn't know who was more off their rocker, himself for having a man whose only job seemed to be telling him things he already knew, or the guy who took the job knowing that Athanasius foresaw most major events within the 'Verse, which is to say every instance of reality happening at once. It was, probably, a mixture of the two of them. Still, the war – it seemed – would provide him with some minute entertainment, and the chance to forge alliances with an otherwise unknown culture. Who won or who lost mattered little to him, the day-by-day lives of lesser beings often meant nothing to those who were far and above them. Still, Athanasius couldn't help but gaze at the wall with a far-off look in his eyes, not at the wall itself, but at the happenings within The Ward and Babylon City simultaneously.
“Yes, Astrom, I see it well. Though, I have yet to determine a proper course of action to be taken. I think, to serve my purposes here, I must manage to be in three places at once.” Athanasius spoke with absolute certain, as if this were his everyday life – and sometimes, with that special occasion, it was life. Waving his hand through the air, the Speaker, the Seer, and the Listener appeared directly before him, their faces blank, emotionless. “I have determined to investigate these matters personally, as such you will each be granted my consciousness, in a manner of speaking. I will spread my omnipotence through you, into your bodies. You will become, in essence, avatars of myself. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master!”, they answered immediately, emotionless faces quickly turning into looks of pure bliss. Athanasius cast forth his right hand, and from it flew sinuous black lines of ether; one from each of the first three fingers of the hand. They extended forth with the grace of snakes stalking prey, before jamming themselves into the forehead of his loyal servants. Their eyes closed, and the look of bliss became one of unimaginable pain – which lasted only for those scant moments before they lost all emotion once more. Much like their master, they outwardly displayed nothing but calm, cool contentedness. In truth, their entire being was burned away in that fiery moment, replaced only with the power of Athanasius flowing through their veins. It was that power that warped their minds, and made them four sections of a whole – though Athanasius himself would remain behind, watching from a distance.
That same power which warped their minds, however, affected their bodies. They grew larger, larger. A manifestation of the power within them brought forth physically by the power of The Death Knight. In truth, they become nothing more than doppelgangers. Much like him, they held those same cold eyes. The same, jagged yellow teeth. The same raven-colored beard, running down to their barreled chests. Each was ten foot tall, and powerful enough to rip buildings from their very foundation with little effort. But that physical strength was only the beginning, and as Athanasius began to relay his plans to them, they were already enacting his will.
All three were gone, their mental link with themselves their means of communication as they traveled. One, the Seer, arrived within The Ward atop a floating throne of black onyx. It resided alongside the gilded chair of the Magister, as if it belonged there and always had been there. It said nothing, yet, for the others were not in position. The plan was precise, and despite whatever surprise might fill Vincent Fiorelli's face – yes, they knew him well – it gave no inclination of threat nor friendliness.
The Listener was the second to arrive, also within the Ward. However, it resided not with the first of its brethren, but within the ship that delivered the Nethuamamagos to their supposed destination. It, too, was upon a similar throne – though this one was the color of freshly spilled blood. And, like its brother, it said nothing and made no movement. For all intents and purposes, it was nothing more than a creature incapable of thought. It was not a threat, so no action was taken to eliminate it. Though, to be completely honest, any action taken would have been met with swift and resounding hostility in return, the likes of which these mortals would have no imagination.
The third, and final one, to arrive appeared just outside of defense zone surrounding Gaea itself. Its throne was a brilliant, shimmering crystal of many colors. It gave off as much light as nearby stars as it flowed casually through the expanse of space, bypassing security checkpoints with a simple wave of its hand and a twisted, warping of thoughts and technology – and even in those certain cases magical – protections. It did not do this out of hostility, or threat. Simply to arrive expediently at its destination. Once it reached the atmosphere of Babylon City, it descended upon the infrastructure even as it began to change. Moments before all of the defenses locked into place, it traveled through the windows and hallways until it was within arm's length of Aeon herself – having slipped unnoticed, thanks to its own particular brand of magic and technology past those defenses before revealing itself.
Once in position, all three spoke at once. If they'd been together, the unison would have been noticeable – and just a tiny bit creepy. “We come seeking not war with you, but peace. We seek to offer our aide in this battle, on behalf of The Death Knight Athanasius, whose name you may or may not have heard whispers of. We are he, made from his image and send at his bequest. We are his fists, his magic, his might. We are weapons, to be used as you see fit...if you see fit to accept the agreement. If you wish to proceed, we will state our terms. If not, we will be on our way with little in the way of hassle to you or to your people.”
With that, the three fell silent. Their dead-gazing eyes forward, their lips moving not at all. Their silence was deafening, considering that not even breathing broke their quietus. They awaited a response, though the use of we was lost on most involved – as there was no evidence that more than one existed, or that it spoke of a vast empire with legions awaiting the sound to battle. No, they seemed (to each person they visited without exception) to be no more than a single entity acting unto itself and its own interests.
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Post by Spinnentier on Dec 3, 2014 0:12:41 GMT
||>[Enter the Seventh Nethuamamagos]<|-Granted, there lie a multitude of both abnormalities and normality contained within the myriad of dimensions that span the omniverse; however, one could argue -subjectively of course- that those who dwell under the title of 'Nethuamamagos' stand among some of the most highly sophisticated of sentient beings. Those that exist atop the mountain ranges of downed opponents often succumb to exasperation; these beings were indeed quite tedious to grasp. For when the combatants are set; when the stage lights are flicked on: the show must begin, patrons collaborate, and reality is opened to suggestion. But, as the stage curtains, wings, and doors comes to a close; when the blissful plaudits and enchanted conversions exist astride, one is left naught but a Grimm reminder that life, as manipulable as it seems at a first glance, must go on.
Given the nature of the patron in question, it didn't come to much of a surprise that, during mission briefing, the Seventh Nethuamamagos stood akin to the stature of a figure carved from stone: emotionless, obsequious; devoid of live and sentient reasoning. Admonishment often came following hefty bouts of time allotted to meditation -often several days at a time. Thus, it's patience yielded no boundaries, blockades, nor impediments. Hayato stood abreast his brethren. Massive forearms towered over it's broad, monstrous figure; armored fists tucked silently within two crevices established by the intertwined limbs. Barnacle-like husks of azure material littered it's frame, yet he possessed no irises himself to view the luminescence erected from it's contained ecosystem. Twas the four independent pupils of his Nanaeel that batted about similar to flies trapped within the bars of a cage, scrutinizing that which lie about the corridors of the airborne carrier. It clung to it's master with the demeanor and likeness of a backpack, and -may I say- with little to no effort whatsoever. Having the appearance and likeness of a Nethuamamagos-sized African Death Stalker, little was taken aback by the Eisenhower's proportionate tail that rose aloft it's head below, the defined pincers that overtly hid within Hayato's hollow shoulders, and the mandibles that chattered forth discreet, yet impeccable nonsense from within their shared mask: the one thing that defined the Nethuamamagos and it's Nanaeel as a single being.
“Veh vill be approaching shore en moment time,” Klaus began, forcing the Nanaeel's drifting orbitals to center, ogling the biological cannon at his side. “Hans, stay on deck to protect Eisenvald. Agent Maximillian, prepare to board scout craft vunce lawnd is seen. Agent Hayato, patrol the deck until land iz seen as vell. Agent Araehn, you too vill patrol the deck until further orders. All of you may begin letters nao, but do not engage until ordered. Do I make clear?"
The Nethuamamagos acknowledged this with the slight inclination of it's head amid the haughty scoffs that resonated from the suit itself. Those who prepare unbeknownst to the pains of reality that plague every one of us supersede the throne of victory, the condescending suit foreshadowed, who, seemingly a mirror opposite of it's host, found no issue with hours upon hours of scripted monologue. As, for a season, men on both sides of the mountain of battle take up arms in the fear of a death not mentioned in lore transcribed in books and etched into the stone pillars of lifelong accomplishment. The dawn of battle is near. Eviscerate our combatants with that which you wrought through years of preparation and training. Our time of-Oi, the air up here is really messing with my sinus membranes, do you think these women like that? With it's monologue crippled by the discordant voice of a childhood icon, the Nethuama suit ceased it's magniloquent lecture with yet another scoff of vexation. Bewildering nincompoop.
One has to admit that armoring a Nethuamamagos is no simple task. The piezoelectric epidermis and hardened overarmor is an impediment by itself; however, fitting it's bulky stature, quad-elbows, and proportionate tail was a feat broken by only the most tenacious of blacksmith. Nonetheless, the aforementioned patron made quick work of it's outdoor needs. A Japanese Monk by heart, the only indication of a 'living quarters' was naught but an armor stand and desk stationed abreast a wool rug naught but a mere twenty feet from the central hub.
Both Nethuamamagos and Nanaeel worked alongside one another to fulfill the task at hand. Hayato made haste with the fitting of his armor, whilst the stinger poised aloft the very tip of Eisenhower's rearing tail unleashed a bout of fluctuating, yet contained static energies. This figure; this mark; the beginnings of the symbol emanating from the tail took the form of a long straight. The steadily dropping tail inscribed said lettering with little issue, even amid it's wielder, who rapidly snapped on the makings of it's secondary armor. The tail curved the plasmatic stroke rightward at a fixed right angle before ceasing further engagement and tapering off to the side, content. It was by this moment of fixed time that Hayato commenced the final stages of it's suiting: snapping leather straps fast and hoisting chunks of metal in place.
Upon completion, the Nethuamamagos was found enveloped in a 'muscle' shirt dyed a hue of forest-green, tassels which bore a stitched Swastika, and a pair of pauldrons that refracted fluorescent lighting that loomed aloft. The pulse-hardened titanium-tungsten armor and ceramic-laced Kevlar-nylon cloth obscured a large percentage of it's stature above it's waist save the helmet and arms, which were impossible to clothe for obvious reasons. Strapped to it's back by means of a leather harness sat it's primary artificial weapon: a B-43A.55 dual-barreled railrifle composed of an iron body painted to most closely fit the needs of an army veteran: camouflage, camouflage, and, of course, more camouflage. The large gun resembled the build of a M-4 Carbine, possessing a similar muzzle, shoulder guard, and build. However, the rifle's size, compliments of Siegfried, was monstrous. The behemoth of a weapon was designed to fit Spinnentier's hands, of course. Abnormalities present on the long-range weapon included a A-185 tactical hollow-imaging scope fixed above the body, a lengthened carbon-steel biped attached to the muzzle by means of iron clasps, and an extended barrel poised below the mundane cylinder and in between two parallel fixtures of steel. The larger barrel fed into the gun in a similar demeanor to the once aloft; therefore, ceasing the need for another magazine. The gun's final two features was a modified chamber and the ability to freely switch between 1-Shot, Burst Shot, Fully-Automatic, and Railgun firing settings. Spinnentier's secondary artificial weapon, a tri-barreled revolver with modified bullet wheels, hug from a holster on it's left side. Ammunition (Pardon the parallel structure, Ram) included 2x Disposable sabot magazines(20x3), 2x Hollow-point hydrofluoric magazines(20x3), 3x HF/LE Drill magazines(30x3), and 3x .5 cal hi-impact bullet magazines(30x3). Aside these clips sat tri-fitters for the revolver: trianglesque caps that function as a catalyst for hastened reloading. He held a single incendiary cap, two lead bullet caps, and a single hydrofluoric HF/LE drill cap.
With preparations complete, the Nethuamamagos began a silent trudge towards the hull of the ship's deck; it's tail swaying to and fro with each given step.-||
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Post by Sturmfeuer on Dec 4, 2014 23:47:39 GMT
[-The Sixth Nethuamamagos-] Each one prepared themselves during their own turns, perhaps in an order of one-by-one. The war zone was certainly no place for one to wander out and about. many other life forms lacked sensability to think positively or thoroughly during war. A mistake could be made at any time that severed one's plan entirely. It truly was a game of logic and skill. The The Nethuamamagos were aware of the many possible outcomes; however by no means would their hearts meet trepidation for battle. As mentioned before, these tediant beings were difficult to grasp. Some may look at these sophisticated dimesional beings and, if deprived of all courage, will give in. The combatants before them were likely far from giving up, for the war had not even kicked off; therefore nothing other than the calculations of time could decide the outcome of the awaiting blood bath that awaited them.
On the opposite side of the mages. Where the Vernichtung carrier had been summoned came a tall figure that paced as if he himself deprived every ounce of fear. The shockmagos latched his left hand among the top surface of the living Nanaeel that became the alternative limb replacing the hand. A deep howl of the wind had seared around the sentimental Nethuamamagos
One of the leaders (Klaus) had previous given out the orders of which soldiers shall stand on the defensive. Hans had been positioned to remain among deck to protect Eisenvald. Maxamilian was demanded for a preparation to board the oncoming scout craft, both Hayato and Araehn were inplacement to patrol the deck, two similar positions with alternative purpose. Hayato only needed to patrol the deck until land had been spotted for the extreamely sized carrier to take land. Araehn however was to remain on patrol during every microsecond until given other orders from his commanding officers (Hans and Klaus.) Araehn had taken know more than a milisecond to steady himself among the dock with his left and only hand atop of the smooth surface of the Nanaeel that overtaken his right arm. Deprived of his right and, the Naneel settling as an individual living object, an m-60 double barreled cannon. A non hesitant sparkle generated by an illuminated glow that had lit up the three polyps in a straight line against the outter portion.
One has yet to realize the durable exo skeleton that a Nethuamamagos wears for it's own protection. It's syructure being suprior to many basic attacks, a well set and brutal attack were far more likely to cause any amount of damage. This had only been the beginning to the talk of durability. Araehn himself wore several layers of over armor above the skeleton structure, very weak compared to it's under ancestor, only able to take a single attack head on. Sadly however the single attack would be loyal enough to shatter those plates of armor, however one failed to notice it's regenerative abilities. Another layer of armor wary supirior to it's underling over plate, peizo armor, hidden beneath the over armor.. Piezo is an armor plate much durable able to withstand a couple of attacks head on. Unlike the over armor the piezo lacked the auto regeneration factor, however had another helpful perk to it. A special perk that offered the male wearing it a sort of boost. Nonetheless Peizp had the potential of regeneration but that would require some focus.
To common eyes the male would appear to heavy and to sluggish due to the overlays of durability. However one must remember looks are not everything. Araehn's pure whit augmented hues had surveyed the wide stretched space (The battle feild) and remained glaring straight foreward. Simply waiting until one of two things. Either the sight of land which ultimatly would not effect his position, or the orders of a commander for further instruction. Popping his neck to the right and allowed a cool breeze to swirl in against the exposed skin that had been surrounded by a round structure of an armored type collar bone. The skin would likely remain unoticed unless one were either much taller, or swift and wary of their opponents. Explained earlier, the Nanaeels polys sparkled and birthed an illuminated glow of photon energy and along with that sparkled and glown the rest of the polyps among his lower shoulders, arm, and knee caps. A brighter glow among the upper shoulderblades, extended from behind rested two structers in black hue that reached a full extention of four inches, one on each shoulderblade. These 'Structures' had adorned those brighter glowing polyps used for the creation of it's sigils. The sigils used to acheive it's perfectional power. Vuuuuuum . The sound doubled once more as the same shaped structure copied the length of four inches shorter had extended from the lower shoulder blade. However unlike the upper ones (That aimed in a vertical left or right depending on which shoulder bladde one is reffering to,) the lower ones were more directed to nearly a complete area from left to right. With that being said one directly infront of the shockmagos would see the lower structures as smaller ones. Vuuuuuuuuum!
[-The man and his cannon companion-] Just like all, Araehn had a strong bond with his Nanaeel. Many have considered their weapon to be the one and only best friend of the magos weilding it. The Nanaeel was under the manipulation of it's weilder, however was an entirely different begin in it's own entity. A loving weapon that could react before the Nethuamamagos could realize on some occassions. The living cannon had a reality much opposite of it's weilder, ruthless. Araehn had been the kind of guy to do what is nessescary, however could be willing to give second chances depending on the situation. Araehn! A being completely clean and sometimes gentle. And his Nanaeel a being who is careless and naughty (see where I'm getting at here?) The Naneel had doubled barreled cannons set to a course of rotation upon fire. Ammo had come depending on the charge through the polyps, ammo could be from bullets, explosives, diamound rounds, and finally living creatures.
If one had really taken in the time to survey his opponent would realize not five but three fingers remained among the left hand of the Shockmagos. An index finger, and a ring finger just an inch across from it. Equal in length and had another equal, the thumb the reached three inches along with the others. Looking down at his feet one would see hands instead of feet. The feet remaining unchanged and exactly in copied with the hand. Araehn was ab eing with extreame speed and agility. Mastering free form running, using his claws to hook into objects to pull off insect runs/walks on and off walls, or many other platforms.
The polyps mentioned before had generated an aura, and also a feild ten feet black-body some around the male's figure that had electromagnetic properties. With proper timing and choices, the electromagnetic feild and pulse aura had many perfections that balanced a Nethuamamagos with Rivals seeded and all.
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Post by Dias Blade on Dec 8, 2014 9:08:58 GMT
All kinds of crap was going on. Perhaps it would have been more prudent to get direct about the problems. The Chief Commander, and current acting Royal Empress, Aeon Ergo, had remained seated in her office at Ashrum Academy; what was originally the Headmaster's Room. He had been counted among the long list of casualties during the Daemonium War when the Nightmare incursion breached the second line at Blackwall Base, leading to a series of devastating long range bombardments which wrecked a large portion of the prestigous military school.
During the rebuild, Aeon saw fit to make use of her new authority to commission various additions and customized defensive and security measures be implemented into the design. The office then became like a second home for her, perhaps more so than her actual place she hardly visits anymore. The reconstructed office was fully outfitted to her exact specifications, serving as a sort of nerve center of the entire nation which gave her full access to manage absolutely everything.
Even though the remake of the old Imperial Palace had been complete in Babylon City for nearly a year now, it did little more than act the role of a public icon for the masses. The original building had been utterly decimated in the war, along with practically the entire former capital city where it once stood. Aeon never cared much for the role of Empress or being called such things as 'Her Highness', a title which somehow left a bad taste in her mouth each time hearing it. No, she never once set foot in the palace, on any occasion. Even though it had become a sort of temporary living quarters for Adell, Jin and those others who had accompanied the Narrian, Dias Blade, back from the ordeal on Vestusio.
She felt more at home in her nice new office surroundings, at the elite military academy reserved for special training of all potential SOF Candidates, just like herself in the past. Those were fond memories, and even after the war, much effort was put into restoring the campus grounds to their beautiful scenery.
Of course, the Imperial Palace served another more secretive purpose, but that's for another time. If nothing else given this situation, it would definitely serve as a convenient decoy in a worse case scenario that any hostile forces manage to actually reach the planet's surface. But that was unlikely...
At the precise instant that third emissary of whoever that supposedly omnipotent being was that crossed over into their universe, it had already pegged the scanners which were established all throughout the vast star cluster. The report came in at an instant, with information technology that surpassed the bounds of time and space. The network registered the unauthorized entry into their territory, pinpointing his exact location just outside the reach of the Exclusion Zone. It was either luck or strange coincidence that he totally missed getting trapped in the Ward along with the other two versions of himself. That sounded like some straight up Meta Gaming, 4th Wall broken and all that junk.
But whatever. It was still yet another issue that would now need to be addressed.
Of course, he must not had done his math properly. The relative distance to the planet, or even to their first line of orbital defenses, from where he had come in at with the casual pace at which he moved, would have taken him friggen forever to actually get close enough to make contact with anyone. That Exclusion Zone radius was rather serious and made the point quite clear that random whack jobs would not be tolerated just inviting themselves into their backyard without prior permission.
The Chief wasn't willing to sit and wait around that long. In fact, sitting itself was beginning to become boring. With matters concerning those invaders locked in the Ward currently being dealt with, Aeon herself would meet this newcomer head on.
The Dracion had already dawned her custom suit of blood red armor, upgraded and added upon over the years since she last served in the SOF Crimson Knights. The zweihander that she once wielded had long since been destroyed during the final moments of the war, as she stood alone against waves after waves of Nightmares clawing and slowly rending the flesh from her bones in a truly heroic display of pride, strength and honor. Her body mended, becoming more powerful than it had already been after surviving such a near fatal state as her people do. The sword could have been remade, but she opted to make use of the newfound strength acquired from her ordeal instead. Now, Aeon brandishes a matching pair of shields forged of zynthium alloy on either hand, carried upon her shoulders as she stands as a living symbol for the soldiers to rally around and admire...
Leaving all matters of the state to her unofficial Second in Command, Sabby who assumed the helm at her desk, the Chief took the nearest Port Gate to the Orbital Fortress Dazerig, one of many space strongholds positioned strategically around the planet. They each had their own stationed forces to engage nearby threats, with a slew of countermeasures and built-in weapon systems to wipe out approaching hostiles. That whole setup wasn't even the start of what kind of defenses Gaea was protected by. Layers upon layers, with enough firepower allocated to each that for each one broken through, millions if not billions of enemies would be added to the death toll as a heavy price to pay for advancing upon their homeworld.
From Dazerig, Aeon made preparations to borrow a detachment of a few carriers with a personal entourage of battlecruisers and frigets from the OSF's Capital Fleet. It didn't take long for Janicia Huxley to catch wind of her movements, the Admiral of the 9th Fleet (The Black Fleet) making contact with the fortress to speak with her highness. She demanded that the Flagship CALDRI be sent in to take her, yet the Chief dismissed her concerns knowing it best to keep such a beast on standby for the time being. After all, perhaps this...whoever it was, was actually NOT trying to be like everyone else and cause mass destruction.
Despite wanting to scream her head off, Admiral Huxley finally settled down and gave in to the woman's wishes. As per usual.
Within no time at all, preparations had been complete and Aeon set off aboard the lead carrier starship dubbed the Bianca. All the ships apart of the formation linked their navigation systems together, performing a mass transfer to the target area upon which they encountered the strange being sitting atop his...throne?
Interesting choice for travel in the vastness of space. He would quickly find that any tricks of his, God or no God, were quickly rendered useless against them. After all, the Aesir Empire was a technological, military superpower of a nation with an emphasis on magitech designs. Not to mention, how to counter or outright nullify any and all forms of powers. The ships and the body armor all crewmen wore had installed defenses against such antics. It wasn't the first time their forces had encountered someone like this, much less killed one either for that matter...
The Nethicite Casings provided to all the ammo currently loaded into every soldier's firearm, even a single bullet by the very nature of the substance itself, actually served as lethal poison to entities or beings of such immense energy. One shot could prevent healing powers, capable of ripping through any form of barrier constructed of magical or spiritual make. It would be pointless for him to try and warp himself inside any of the ships, as that would serve just as futile as those currently trapped in the Ward trying to escape. Just an endless loop that would instantly return him to where he was out in space should he make the attempt.
With that notion already crossed out, Aeon addressed him personally using all forms of communication that might register with him. Something would at least be able to reach on one of these friggen channels being transmitted, no doubt.
"You there, the one on the throne. I am Chief Commander Aeon Ergo, acting ruler of the Aesir Empire and leader for all military forces. Care to explain using...whatever form of communication you're able to respond with....just why the hell you happen to be in our territory?"
That was when the emissary gave his message, given at the exact same time as his other two copycats who were currently with the Nethumagos and Magister Vincent in the Ward. It wasn't exactly what she had expected, who knew that her joking around with Janicia would actually turn out to be the case. Or so it seemed that way. However he managed to do it, he was able to talk back to them across their communication channels. Probably one of the perks of being omnipotent.
Still, what a perplexing situation. With an equally odd offer given. He then up and went silent on them, saying and doing nothing after the fact as if waiting for some answer.
"To be honest, I don't much know about you to be making any sort of deals. No offense. If you don't mean to cause us any problems, I'd be happy to talk with you or whoever it is you might serve to get to know each other better. But as I hardly know anything about you, I'll have to ask that you simply stay out of our affairs and do not get involved in this situation. However it is you came to find out about it, we're very well capable of dealing with our enemies on our own. Although, I'm always willing to make new alliances...or at least friends."
(I'll have another post or edit this one, prolly just post again before our turn is over where I bring in Simca to enter the Ward to join the fray. But I felt this needed more...immediate attention.)
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Post by Hero on Dec 10, 2014 17:57:59 GMT
The ashes of our dreams is a sight to behold. So beautiful is it as the harbinger of loss and times long lost, fading into the mysterious clause that is the question that lacks answer. In the boundary between life and death, separating existence and all things real, the white-haired pirate -- covered in the spiritual blood of his victims and his own, stared at the gateway of the afterlife. It had no form yet it had every form all the same, it was that which was limited only to one's imagination, that which acted as the final passageway of those like himself. For years he'd fought endlessly, seeking strength, power, and a way to free himself from his own impossible dreams. He'd lost everything. His family. His loved one. His comrades...even the Yggdrasil Crew, those he'd grown to call family, would be lost in the sea of broken dreams that consumed and destroyed everything in it's wake.
Such a fool was he who fell prey to his own desires, however righteous or malevolent they may have been. Standing to his feet slowly, Kaneda slowly wallowed to the gate, his eyes concealed by his vermilion hair and his spiritual body torn to ribbons. Beyond this world he would be judged, recycled, and dismantled as all others who had committed the atrocities as he had.
Then he heard a sound.
"Lift your head, Kaneda."
...
Slowly his head lifted to eyes so familiar but so foreign that it was hard to imagine the truth behind them. They were clear, almost white, but the conviction they held was almost exactly as his own. The white-hair, the older gigantic fo-there was no doubt. This was the sub-conscious voice that slept within him, the reasoning for his talents, the very aspiration for which his dreams were born. This man was himself-no, he was that man. He was utterly shocked by the man's utterly flawless appearance, the very infinite whiteness around them paled in contrast to the very weight this man carried. However, Kaneda had long since lost his ability to speak. One could say he was a hunk of flesh morbidly trudging into the afterlife.
"I am sorry for the pain I have put you through. The burden of our weight solely on your shoulders. To have you die in my stead, it is..."
The white-haired man, standing six feet tall and seven inches, wearing a finely tailored black suit and a vivid blue tie, glanced away for a moment. It was indeed his fault.
"I will save Lucina. I will destroy Malphisto. I will defeat Faustus and King Excelantes, and I will see this conflict to it's proper resolution. Do not be defeated that this is the end, for it is not. This is merely the beginning. Wait for her."
Kaneda hardly listened. Slipping past Adell he continued towards the gateway that awaited him, hardly ready to die, but ready to sleep after his long life of constant fighting.
Wait for her...wait for her...Lucina?...
The shimmering light of Kaneda slipping into the gateway began to consume everything. Adell turned back to look for but a moment, the sadness in his eyes apparent but his unwavering conviction of the utmost note, it wasn't long before everything disappeared and the two were gone just as swiftly.
“Remember your promise...”
Bold knuckles smashed repeatedly through pockets of dilated space, sending waves of pressure roaring through the lands beyond. The winds screamed, the earth quaked, and the skies danced with Adell's every strike, a vicious combination causing the very world to give way to its potential destruction. The final strike, being a vertical punch with his left hand, created a conical wave of pressure that shot forward and crashed into one of the many rigid mountains throughout the valley. As it was destroyed and came tumbling, Adell rose from his stance and slid his hands through his soft yet unnaturally thick white-hair.
On that afternoon he wore nothing too special. White-gi with a matching top and bottom signified by the black belt wrapped around his waist, bandages marking his forearms and his bare feet, and a black overcoat that made it easy for him to work his way through the masses of his escape from the Aesir Empire. Even without the overcoat, however, with the impressive speed he wielded, he could have escaped before he was even thought to be gone, and he was sure that it was only a matter of time before they suspected his disappearance.
It wasn't as if Adell was a fugitive or prisoner by any means – he was simply a man of incredible importance, and one who, like his other nameworthy comrades, held the future of the world in their hands. Were he to suddenly vanish or become an enemy it would bring great catastrophe to the Aesir Empire and all other allied forces beyond.
Even still, there was never a thought in his mind to betray Dias' allies. They held precious resources and alienating them or making them enemies of any kind didn't align with his true objectives. As a military superpower, Adell couldn't ignore just what they could offer in-terms of economic support and sheer numbers, everything they lacked. As time progressed and Adell gave it more thought, it became an increasingly clear picture; they needed him, he needed them, and they would have to work out some agreement to get anything accomplished from there on. Glancing at the crumbling mountain for but a moment, Adell turned away from the destruction to glance in the direction of Babylon City itself.
Then there was that other issue.
Since the ending of the War of Vestusio, there was some speculation as to whether or not the full potential of Adell's power had been awakened or not. While to others it would appear that he had finally reached his height, he personally could feel the restrictions of seals locked across his body and soul, limiting him to pushing the impossible limits that his body once held the power to once achieve. While only Malphisto had warranted the push of the metaphorical envelope of power, when an enemy finally came that wasn't so merciful, and his power remained capped, what would happen? From fighting Malphisto head to head, to destroying Akuma, to wiping out Issac, and his conflict with Crim El Furgara, he'd had the chance to finally wake up from his slumber but was it enough by itself?
In a single gesture he suddenly disappeared and reappeared at the edge of a spire facing off into the direction of Babylon City. So many spirits and dispositions exploded with their intent to kill one another that it would be impossible to not feel it even as an ordinary person. Who were these people? Adell had been generally oblivious to the arrival of the foreign invaders, and the actions given by Aeon Ergo to destroy them with the Crimson Knights taking lead – so involved with his own training, Adell very seldom stopped himself to deal with other peoples problems. The Aesir Empire had a habit of being attacked as of late, between Daemonium invading, and Ace making his way in killing any in his sights, it was becoming almost tradition for any evil entities or other worlds alike to try and destroy the Aesir Empire.
Yet the question lingered, was Adell or any of the Aethera State obliged to help them?
They had yet to conclude their negotiations and it seemed that the answers they wanted were left in waiting. If it weren't for the fact that they hardly had a choice but to accept, then Adell would have long since left without thinking twice. Yet, in a sense, was this not a good opportunity to gauge his own power against unknown enemies?
“Adell!” an annoying voice screamed out, running towards Adell from the city beyond. It seemed he'd traveled quite a long way, but judging by who he was, that was hardly likely.
“Yo!” Joshua exclaimed, buckling over just as he reached Adell, “Babylon City is in trou-”
“I know.” Adell snapped back calmly, his eyes narrowing over the horizon.
“Well then let's go help! They're our friends right?”
“You have a naive way of thinking Joshua.” Adell murmured, crossing his arms along his chest. “I am surprised Kaneda found so much faith in taking you with him.”
“...EH?! The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”
“It means stop talking.”
“...”
There was silence between the two while Adell continued to stare into the world. There was something going on in that odd head of his, but what could he be thinking?
“What do you know about Dimensional Physics?”
“Eh?...”
“Dimensional Physics. Multi-dimensional parallels, the dimensions that exist beyond our own standard dimensional, et cetra...”
“Well uh...”
Adell unfolded his arms, revealing his brazen chest disguised under his white-gi and thick shoulders that throbbed with flowing blood.
“Take me to our enemies. The port where they landed. I'll take it from there.”
Joshua had been an apprentice, or rather, a lackey of the late ignorant Sato Kaneda who died in the destruction wrought by Malphisto and his insidious attack. Reeking in malevolence he completely erased Kaneda from existence, allowing Adell to be revived as the old legend spoken of in many tales throughout the stars, having been one of the greatest warriors to have participated in the Dimensional Wars Era alongside many other powerful beings and corporations. Joshua didn't really care about the details, but as much of an asshole as Kaneda was, he just couldn't sake the way Adell looked down on everyone in such a condescending fashion. It wasn't that he wanted to, it was just natural for someone who had done what he had, only to be revived in yet another era of crisis where MERKABAH threatened the very foundation of existence and new enemies began to give rise, encroaching upon the peace that many innocents had become fond of.
Groaning for a moment, the psion whipped his hand out to the edge of the spire, creating a emerald vortex of space rolling inwards, whirling inwards in a vacuum that would take him to the frontlines.
“Do not follow me unless you want to die.”
Trudging slowly past Joshua who looked back in disgust, Adell disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Adell was belligerent but when it came to warfare itself he was a peculiar individual, especially considering the way he handled himself normally. While most would figure him to be the type to annihilate any enemy that ever opposed him, he actually played a fairly passive game when faced with a multitude of enemies – atleast in comparison to his usual conduct. While he was extremely aggressive in the eyes of his opposition, he was even moreso observant and tactical. Emerging from the magical rift into the ward, he glanced to his right and his left, droves of infantrymen rushing to their positions led by the three Crimson Knights stationed throughout the Babylon City look-alike.
Then there was the skimpy-white haired look alike, Pankraz, swearing up and down the street while screaming at his silver-revolver. He held it up above his head, face read, clearly frustrated and not exactly the best tactician to place in the defense of the Aesir Empire.
“An idiot as usual I see.”
“DOTH THY NOT LISETH TO THEE YE' SHALL BE SMITED BEYOND CONCEIVABLE IMAGINATION!”
Pankraz was eccentric, and when he worked, he did the job, but this clearly wasn't his day. Ignoring him in his amble, he stuffed his hands into his coat's pockets while peering over the horizon to the approaching aircraft where the enemies awaited. Just what were they capable of? They seemed ill-prepared for a full-scale war against an Empire but individually did they have the power to go toe-to-toe with those like himself? Adell grinned just as Arcaeus appeared at his right, disturbed by the approaching intruders
“They disgust me...” he muttered, glancing to Adell for a moment. Such an enigma of a man, would he finally showcase the power that the Aesir Empire sought? “So you'll be taking care of things today then?”
Adell remained silent as the enemies prepared themselves. Even from so far away he could see them readying their armaments, the Inner Eye working to his distinct advantage.
“Take me into the sky.”
“Huh?”
Adell pointed just above their heads. Arcaeus groaned for a moment before concentrating his mind and manipulating the field around them, creating a Reality Marble of which to move things within it's sphere of influence. Raising them into the sky leveled with that of the ship that was far away yet approaching, Adell began to pop his joints habitually.
“One of my allies should be here shortly, not sure where Jin or the others are,” he started, closing his eyes in concentration for a few seconds, “But you should get out of here as soon as possible. Stay far away. Let us handle this.”
“Says the foreigner,” Arcaeus scoffed. “ You think we'd leave this to the likes of you?
“Did I ask you for your choices?”
Silence. Things were clearly getting more intense as the battle approached and the war prepared to commence. Yet again Adell would be forced to show why he was a force to be reckoned with and why he had been considered a legend in the times long past.
The Ward fell silent. Even Pankraz hushed himself, commanding the ground forces below into position.
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Post by Dirge on Dec 13, 2014 20:07:57 GMT
Omnipotence was exaggerating the real deal a bit too much. However, when the majority of the Multiversal creatures that could travel to and fro at will had a bigger interest in sticking their nugs into the nearest oven they could find, it was only a fitting way to describe the magister. Movement within the Nethuamamagos’ ship appeared to be scarce in Vincent’s personal vantage point. It was only through an elaborate combination of trained skills that the magister had been able to come up with this ‘network’ of auric – of both physical and spiritual energy signatures – energies; they all painted a pretty little picture which only his eyes were privy to. These skills included but were not limited to ESP, reading of the energy within the environment, reading of the energy within living and non-living objects, reading of the energy in a defined plane, and a bunch of others that he hardly ever explained to the usual cutthroats and warmongers he encountered. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was omnipotent in that sense.
Or perhaps it was just the result of arduous years of training. A measly seven years by Earth’s standards – far more when the different perceptions of time in other areas of the Multiverse were taken into account. Artifacts imbued with the helpful enchantment of the pocket spaces known as Phantasmagoria were particularly effective when it came down to training. Vincent’s relationships with pocket dimensions were so intimate that it could be said he knew The Ward from the inside out. Literally and figuratively. It was through a simple process of elimination that he ultimately determined most of the characteristics that made The Ward… The Ward. And yet, it was merely one of many.
In his thorough analysis of The Ward, which currently spanned several rolls of papyrus that had been safely tucked away within Hyades, no doubt by one of his Aspects, there would be nothing left unexplained, from its sturdy yet flimsy structure to the way time flowed within it. The Secret Library’s ‘eyes’ gathered information at an alarming rate from every single universe out there; its interest was the strongest in the Aesir Empire, the Nethuamamagos’, the situation in the Ward, and the participants of said event. Long story short, Hyades was going to play storyteller at some point in time for the prying eyes of the curious. But it certainly wouldn’t be today, and not a single one of the people Hyades was watching right now was going to hear it. Except, of course, for Vincent.
As much as the Halfling hated waiting, it tended to pay off in the long run. In fact, not even ten minutes after he’d touched down and sat onto his gilded armchair, a strange humanoid – a doll – popped up out of nowhere next to him… On an armchair of his own. It spoke of a certain Athanasius, of promises of aid and of terms yet to be revealed. The whole thing piqued his interest.
“… Huh. Well, that’s totally not creepy. I’m not one to be appeased by dolls, mind you, but let’s play along and see what you’re all about, shall we?”
The arrival of a familiar energy signature within the Ward prompted Vincent’s attention toward the camp the Crimson Knights had erected a couple hundred meters away. The vast majority of their soldiers were a quiet bunch, completely disciplined and obeying their superiors’ every order. But the most outstanding soldiers in a group often displayed individuality beyond the rest. In a select few universes, this occurred within the Earth Federation Army, within the Divine Crusaders, and within the elusive civilization known as the Inspectors. Naturally, these are only a few examples in the bigger picture.
Pankraz and Adell were perfect examples of this previously enunciated concept within the Crimson Knights.
“Alright, boys, start drawing on the ground and air. Standard issue wards. Leave a few empty for me to use later. I’ll be paying the albino a visit. You there, puppet, come with me. Speak about your plan for aid; I’m interested in what you have to say.”
At Vincent’s commands, the sixteen Aspects he’d brought with him began to trace odd patterns upon the dirt. Eight of them separated from the ground forces only to hop a couple dozens of meters into the air, stepping on it as though it was solid before drawing circles filled with symbols and runic writing. In both instances, the drawings radiated a vibrant golden light that did not appear to hinder the Aspects in the least. Perhaps lesser creatures would see their vision tampered with. Vincent didn’t know; he hadn’t tested the effect of said glow on human eyes.
In any event, Vincent walked – or floated, rather – away from his makeshift camp before appearing in front of Adell out of a crimson blur. The silent cadence filling the air was only muffled by the troops rushing to and fro across the camp, squaring themselves in the barren lands. The Halfling couldn’t help but to pick up on every bit of the banter that had been going on long before he had approached the camp – for a couple hundred meters away, it was fairly easy for him to listen in – and decided to break the silence with a few choice words directed towards Arcaeus.
“I think you’d leave something for us foreigners to have fun with.”
Regardless of whether or not Arcaeus replied to him, the magister’s next words were directed solely at Adell. His tone of voice was stern but still retained some of its humorous manner of speech.
“You’re late. Relatively speaking. The enemy hasn’t made a move yet; they’re only getting ready within their mobile fortress.” Vincent scratched his temple while glancing over to the Nethuamamagos’ ship off in the distance.
“That hunk of metal looks tough but we all know nothing is indestructible. Oh, and…” His thumb pointed toward the puppet of Athanasius which may or may have not followed him. In the latter case, he’d simply point toward it in the distance. “There’s the issue of this doll who wants to offer aid. He doesn’t seem to be another hostile, so we can probably keep him around. If you want to engage the enemy, Adell, make sure to meet up with my Aspects. They’ll help you out.”
As much of a reunion as this little meeting was, they had all been brought together for a single purpose: the complete obliteration of the Nethuamamagos who threatened to claim the resources of this world – if not of the entire Aesir Empire.
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Anomaly
New Member
For Hitler.
Posts: 7
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Post by Anomaly on Dec 14, 2014 10:27:09 GMT
-[Wounded Warsong.] Professional silence was something the Nethuamamagos seldom experienced since their coming to be years ago. It was utter nonsense each broadcast, encouraging to continue topics that had little to do with the mission. As mentioned prior, each agent had learned to ignore their petty arguments and insights. Eisenwald still felt this to be endeavor, responding to his suit’s loquacious but kind demeanor in what you would expect; negativity. The lanugeist even narrated most actions done by the host, quietly announcing completions and the like. It was this that warned Eisenwald and the others of an encroaching presence seeking to breach the carrier. Anomalously charged particles flew innocuously through space in a radial pattern, more than likely to pepper the approaching avatar. Once met with the resistance of a powerful resonance, they promptly would ricochet back to the source. Even absorption brought an equally effective method to radar, but that was something to be found out.
Vum! The booming sound of scattering energies rose above the screaming of the engines before drowning, shimmering air calling for attention. The devices lining the hull would perform their purpose in barricading the ship against interlopers, even identifying them. The pandimensional radiation from multiple blackbodies (of consciousness) had consumed the ship, integrating chaos through its defenses. The interloper would likely discover this wall upon impact; a singular but whole entity among the untold numbers ramming into the avatar, who was a mere moiety compared. After all, each Nethuamamagos had acquired a considerable charge, producing a greater yield in excess. This repulsion was to simply push the interloper just outside the field’s circumference, having targeted the very force governing the energies of existence. Regardless, wherever the Death Knight’s avatar would materialize, Eisenwald and his men would not turn their heads in the slightest. Instead, the leader chose to communicate utilizing that same field they were passively manipulating.
“Peace,” There was a small chuckle, having spoken just after the final stroke of that luminous sigil. Voom… The letter immediately took its place upon the forehead. There it hovered inches, painting that peculiar face in azure. Equally strange was one of the polyps dangling from the back had lost its glow; it transferred its entirety into a plasmatic body that enabled greater conduction and channeling. Ghosts dressed in brilliant fires and light ever-moving. Those familiar with either the demonic or angelic were more than likely to recognize the letter and those yet to come. Eisenwald continued in a tone filled with subtle amusement, “Mind you, zis is still a second language but you know zat colloquial expression ‘You have a funny vay of showing somesing’, ja?” Without a pause to allow a response, he canted his head before starting yet another symbol, “Vell, you presented a ‘funny vay of showing’ you vant peace, Death Knight. So rude to assume you could enter our craft vithout an invite,“ Eisenwald’s head would then pivot to the avatar’s general direction, “Veh vish have to have zis be professional." Cool and diplomatic, he provided reality to this puppet before his ship, "So I must ask you to see me yourself, Death Knight, if you do indeed vant an alliance.” Negotiations, in the old German's eyes, were meant to be dealt with person-to-person; a middle man only showed weakness, using others for a task bent on one's own responsibility. He assumed this was the only denizen of the realm, thus far.
Once said avatar had made contact with the field, Eisenwald immediately pinpointed the shard’s imprint. Using the encompassing template, he was able to connect with the ambient and isolate this unique frequency in the absence. Ultimately this form of dimensional metrics allowed the Gatemagos to notice two others carrying the same being seeded within them. Although he was now aware of them, he knew not of their business beyond the ship. This did not matter to the veteran Nazi, knowing there was only so much an individual can do. He knew within the infinite, absolution carried little meaning. Energy was but a tool to the conscious mind. All this accounted for his cynical attitude with little patience hitherto. On that note, Eisenwald had finished speaking, soon dismissing the puppet in a lightly stern manner, “Now, auf viedersehen.”
The Gatemagos’ staff had lifted from the runway’s surface, sliding through air until taking its place above its wielder’s head. Its tiny limbs continued to scrape and fidget, glands within the palms generating a pocket of ionization, heat seething from this biological crucible whilst the pulses' reach traveled further due to the influx. It hissed and gasped, body convulsing at increasing intensity until it was a blur to the naked eye. This behavior was exhibited in both the Artillery and the Armormagos, who too had finished their initial letter. Shadows danced upon the details of their features with its fluctuating body, Klaus’ mask shining like the aurora borealis. Already the pair would begin their second sigil, yet these had sharper angles than the one prior, appearing to be a vague half-cocked, upside-down L.
During this, loose metals around the fully armored Hans began to stir. Magnetic forces rose in strength as his field would shift, teetering on an inverse state. He remained somewhat squatted (feet still shoulder width apart), arcs of energy erupting periodically from the network of tumorous creatures. The many erratic bolts swept across the metalloid runway, particle structures torn asunder. This destruction was felt only as a tingle on the flesh of those nearby. This sensation was quickly overcame by a steady drop in temperature, life sapped in a growing area of influence. Veins of frost began to form at his feet, slowly crawling forth like icy roots – Barely audible crackling of crystallizing moisture tickled the ears. Klaus still stood at the ready, staring at the ship’s bow with his vibrating cannon (Nanaeel) still in the same position, his left leg in front with the right at aligned to provide support. Overtime its ribcage had expanded, making room for whatever was brewing within its body. Its gray flesh muffin-topped over the organically synthesized piezo-ceramic armor protecting the inner forearm (if you would call it that).
“Ready zee planes, Agent Hayato and Agent Anfallen vill soon be taking off. Agent Araehn and myself shall stay vith Hans to properly protect Eisenvald until further observation,” Klaus called to his brethren and the mundane subordinates. Upon that order, crates were soon to be wheeled out post-haste and placed right next to the many planes. There they would adhere unknown packages to their panels, connecting them via various colors of wires. Other carts filled with scrap metal and power tools came seconds after, attempting to cover what had been glued on most of the planes. Mainly it was the scout vessels whilst the carriers were being stocked with weapons and ammunition. The type was a mystery until seen by the enemy who still had yet to show their faces. The engines and the roaring of air-pressure tools lit the deck up in a mechanical symphony. This was a time for preparations, even when they were greeted by what they thought to be a simple messenger.
Ramstein: [ N ]
Eisenwald: [ N ]
Zerstoren: [ N ]
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Post by Spinnentier on Dec 24, 2014 5:14:12 GMT
||-[An unfortunate setback, to say the least..]-|- This war, per the efforts of those who choose to postpone for reasons either external or otherwise, will take a while to complete. Tedious at first glance by an outside patron, yet doted by those select few that favor a myriad of hours dedicated to the sophisticated simplicity of chat-based roleplay. The grounds in which battle will commence are verified, the combatants on both ends are set, and the narrators, although possessing scattered schedules and mindsets, are nonetheless in position. All that is left, unfortunately, is the glut of typing, posting, and deciphering that exists in between.
The Nethuamamagos's chosen arsenal wasn't fitting in the slightest for it's abrupt playing style. One could most definitely argue that it was pure bloodlust that directed it's decision; a term most noted for it's constant badgering when applied to a rather specific situation in battle: people are known to bite off more than they can chew. The sentient being continued it's saunter: replicating it's aforementioned gait to allow more efficient coverage of the deck whilst preparations were undergo for it's air-based dismissal. The distance covered by such a stride was heightened amid it's somewhat relaxed stature -a near polar-opposite of it's nature during mission briefing. During this aforementioned task at hand came the completion of the first Enochian sigil, whose azure glow lie restrained by nothing but it's own, magnificent allure. The construct sizzled aloft the Nethuamamagos's two-part cranium; it is in that position that the L-shaped manifestation of dimensional energies remained steadfast. It could quite honestly mask Spinnentier's entire being, if it were not for it's rather frightening stature. The other notable variable in it's gait came in the form of a pile of ammunition and other firearm-based whatnot that lined it's massive forearms. Seriously. It was a lot of stuff.
Immediately after the formation of the first symbol came not only the erection of another, more complicated construct, but a notable change via larger mass and more prominent muscle composition in the limbs and chest; and a small bout of dot-riddled ooze that seeped down it's from and left darkened holes of sizzled metal below it's form. Tail raised aloft, masked in an array of vibrant energies; it swung first to it's left, eviscerating a line of energy into the isolated space to mark the beginnings of the sigil. From there, the tail's hardened epidermis parted to reveal a second liquid-coated stinger: a hollowed hook of organic matter poised opposite of the one above to grant the appearance of a third pincer. The large, rather noticeable claw abducted it's two independent joints to either side of the line and slowly raised aloft whilst tapering towards a single point in the epicenter. Skitters, chatters, and other miscellaneous bug sounds emanated from the mask.
Twas during this procedure that Spinnentier's towering figure crossed a random group of absentminded Nazi who ogled the landscape below. Emotionless, well trained, and loyal men they were; however, these blissful fellows were not as.. 'focused' as they should be -according to Vernichtung standards.
Achtung! The suit boomed in Hayato's stead, whose irises flooded the corridor through a frenzy of independent movements. The Nethuamamagos didn't bother with halting it's gait; the man knew of the expectations burned into the skulls of each and every member of the Nazi party, and were 'educated' rather nicely on the fighting strength of it's six commanders.
"Commander Spinnentier!" Came the first patron, who ripped his eyes from the ground below, collected his firearm, and enacted a posture of professionalism and finesse.
"Agent Hayato!" Retaliated another, nearly choking upon his own saliva while he hurried to reaffirm it's stance.
One by one, each of the remaining four took position and acknowledged the Nethuamamagos per the trademarked salute and plethora of "Sir"s. The collection of men lined the hallway and made way for the passing being who, without a single word in advance, extended it's arms and allowed the excess of ammunition to scatter towards it's shell-esque toes with an assortment of 'clanks' and 'smashes'. The men glibly strutted forward to collect the discarded tools and Hayato, now with his current inventory of three HF/LE Drill magazines, three .5 cal hi-impact bullet magazines, and two caps of lead bullets slung along the belt of ammo that existed along his massive chest, made his way to the deck.-|| [ L ]
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Post by Sturmfeuer on Jan 13, 2015 7:06:24 GMT
[-Aforementioned Bravery-] This particular war could go on for some time. The odds are not yet stacked against either continents. Time is only a man made estimate, meaning too the common living essential this battle may seem to be a life time, though in this case every patron happened to be so very different. Time? Ultimately depended on the artificial user on it's own. Much action has been in due for seemingly ages, the war had not yet kicked off but the mere set ups and preparations have. This could be looked at as some sort of test set to determine ones capabilities. Nonetheless this was still a war, war is...Well war. Perhaps war could be looked upon as a type of religion based on ones lust and thirst for it, so heavily that it would deprive them from all the other many great things in life.
Araehn perched his head up to gaze deeply into the distance. It would seem to one in a session of gazing that Araehn's body took a higher level of illumination. Some may refer to it as being briefly transparent, something major to occur which there was. Aforementioned this transparent glow was only absolute in a brief manner, it would soon die down at a lower brightness. The pulse aura seemed to widget as if vibrated, the pan dimensional energies surging with a sound that replicated that of active electricity. Araehn remained latching his weaponry from the smooth top surface with it's abnormal claws, immediately taking his first step of real action. an unesseccary noise emitted from the polyps among their stands, a trans[aren't gland of photon energy illuminated that polyps just as before. Vwuuum!! A golden in hue letter came in prior to this effect it appeared as illusion, optical to be more precise. This normally filled these beings heart with joy and pleasure, however they were likely more pleasured by something else? The war! Yes the war was it! however there was an unseen form of action taking it's place.
Araehn's augmented eyes scanned briefly over the deck in silence before turning his head over to face Hayoto with nothing more than the blank expression his face had forcefully given. "Vee are on duty! You understand Zis? Vat is your insight?" He said almost impatiently while wavering his left normal-like limb in front of him in such a fashion that resembled a man celebrating? But no this was just the excitement, excited to the point his particles might as well set fire to the skies. Eagerness filled his heart as he grew slightly impatient nothing really was to calm him down. Suddenly a deep husky voice emmited into the general area, this voice being the suit of Araehn (Xytaire) saying in it's husky sootiness ,"Calm down Araehn, Zis matter is ridicules. vy must you always stress and be impatient!?" Araehn's corresponding actions upset it's arsenal suit. The suit seemed displeased with it's hosts depriving patients though instead of a direct polite response with words, he merely shrugged it off and seemed to calm down the rate of inpatients. "Yes zis is nice." Araehn spoke in a soft tone downward while cocking his head that direction sending the sound waves of the voice against the suit. His head soon popped back up into on guard place. Hayato had his place to speak but doing so in immediate terms would leave him interrupting Xytaire if he did.
The Nanaeel's illuminated stage never dimmed only growing slightly more accurate and precise. A tab bit more transparent if you will? Though one must be very careful among wielding them, luckily for he Nethuamamagos their Nanaeels were apart of their suits, which were often interpreted as living companions per say. This meant an extra pare of eyes, also another set of controls. If one weren't careful they could destroy the very Carrier they are trying to protect.
One may have noticed the unseen force that gracefully added an extra plate of armory (More durable than the original of course) among each of his arms from the shoulder blade down. They were an extra layer of over armor. What made it more durable than the original? Because it was head over heels, layer over layer that attached perfectly to the figures limbs. This occurred shortly after the hallowed letter was complete. This was the prior the paragraph up above had stated in it's term.
Araehn awaited respectfully in pace as Klaus had previously stated the plans of Hayato and Agent Maxamillian to set off into higher altitudes, if not then among the battlefield more like. Araeehn's augmented vision was used to observe the personal aresenal of the carriers many, planes, crates and the many other objects soon to be revealed. "Sir yes sir!" Came the sooth calm voice of the shockmagos in prior to Klaus (Ramstein)'s recent orders. Araehn with no objections once so ever stood at attention and awaited for potential threat to come within their presence. After all a soldier follows his orders with no argumentative reactions. Eisenwalds's life was now put into the hands of Araehn as well. Protect at all costs! Araehn's every motion and every thought was to fulfill his first and only task as of currently, and thus would allow himself death if it meant certain success. The M-60 cannon would begin a soft frequency of vibrations that would grow at a short pace. A small socket opened among the forearm of the left limb that always been exposed without weaponry. But no that was just what he'd want you to believe. Upon that small socket emitted a linear figure that moved swiftly and was very slim. This small structure carried Araehn's .45 ACP Hand gun that rested upside down. The thin structure holding among said handgun would fold it's way back into his hidden socket Hollister and as it did flipped the handgun to rest in it's straight aim-ready posture, though still attached to the forearm. the three small polyps among it resembled and rivaled itself with the male's Nanaeel.
The wait certainly benefited with the times needed for the best preparations for the beginning of a long lasting battle. To say in the least, massive destruction was to likely occur at one point or another. It was all in a matter of the aforementioned estimate made by man;Time. Regardless of the future guesses Araehn focused more on the present and as also mentioned above, his task that he has vowed to handle. [ N ]
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Post by Hero on Jan 22, 2015 22:00:03 GMT
Some say there's no such thing as a silver lining. When the going gets tough, life turns to hell. When you need a break, you get broken. When all you want is an escape, you're locked away. It seemed fate knew no boundaries. Everyone was at risk. The greatest of men to the poorest of scabs. Misfortune found them all.
Things had gone a lot of places at the end of the Daemonium War. They'd been literally torn down, from the ground up, and reduced to nothing but rubble. There came a time when action was necessary in order to overcome hard times and deliver your world and empire into prosperity. However, even with the very vocal and flashy uprising of the people against the MERKABAH forces and other such opposition, it was becoming more obvious that not many things were changing for the better. Instead, many things were slowly becoming worse as the situation between the U-TIC, MERKABAH, and other such enemies worsened. Strange decisions made by those in-charge spurred certain reactions out of a few individuals, but as a whole it went almost largely unnoticed. Why would they? In the face of such danger, more than most could ever bear, why would they appear weak and prepared to crumble?
It didn't matter. The God Dragon, however, was extremely perceptive as to things so small and insignificant, even war became reality. Staring down the barrel of the enemies gun he watched as they approached - preparing their own methods and tools of madness - but one thing never changed the entire time. The palpable tension in the air that seemed constricting enough to limit movement entirely never shifted, and not even Arcaeus dared to move until the time was right.
But when was the time right?
There was no words spoken, no distinct cue of action given, there was only the growing sound of circulating energies brewing violently - Yin and Yang both swirling around Adell's body in an intoxicating dance that repulsed the very air around him. Its golden tinge weighed heavily on the world and forced everything around him away, even Arcaeus took a few steps back in the sky above. The very density of the energy gathering around him was life threatening, its very weight was enough that all within The Ward could begin to feel it. His fists clenched tightly and his eyes narrowing to the battleship approaching, he glanced back to Arcaeus once more.
"Leave your enchantment on those of us that need it, and play from a distance. This will not be good for you."
"I don't need you-"
There were no more room for words. If they brought the willingness to invade those who were there, whether allied or not, would happily oblige. Even if The Aesir Empire were their own Adell was currently under business with the said kingdom and he couldn't let them sink beneath such scum. Focusing chi into his mental ability the Inner Eye he simultaneously disappeared from the sky briefly, moving at such an incredible pace that only a fading after-image was left in his wake. Where was the strong-arm behemoth going? The very speed of his movements invoked the N-wave that would tear apart anything reckless enough to be standing around and outside of hit Sphere of Air Influence that was slowly building itself around him.
Gritting his teeth together in elation he had slammed his foot into the ground and erupted forward so incredibly fast that it was almost hard to say whether or not he would be able to stop if necessary.
On the plus side? He was infront of the ship, atleast as close as he could get without making contact with the shield, and only a split second passed in-between standing there several hundred meters out and appearing just before the shield before what happened next occurred.
Adell's fist cocked back slowly.
"Welcome to Babylon."
The most obnoxious scream of destructive forces colliding amongst one another ran through the sky and down into the ground, shifting the masses and shaking buildings to rubble. Adell was a monolithic, one-tracked, belligerent god of battle that swarmed any and every battlefield and destroyed anything before him. Damage could be done, he could be injured, but it only seemed to amplify and give him more motivation to fight. As his clenched fist collided with the unknown shielding surrounding the ship, the physical force would probably prove powerful enough to use up some amount of energy that powered it and probably raise their awareness as to Adell's arrival.
Nonetheless it would be far from the last thing he had to say on the matter.
Even then the chi around his body continued to circulate and grow stronger, but this wasn't for the purpose of making him stronger - he was already a tank on wheels, it was probably for something far more devastating approaching - and they'd have to get moving quick if they didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.
By attacking at the time they had, they had surely dug themselves their own grave.
There was no more foreplay, no more preparation for the battle to come, no more talking about how beautiful they were and how gracious they would be on the battlefield. It was time to put words to action, and that was all Adell knew.
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