chaosunraveled | Recent Entries

Characters: Baba Yaga and Lucifer
Setting: Niflheim's grounds and slaughterhouse
Content: Tentatively worksafe - perhaps conversational, but violent imagery on slaughtering animals
Summary: Old Bony Legs arrives and her first order of business is to investigate the grounds
Status: In progress

From the south, a great and terrible moan cut through the trees of Witchlight Forest, bending boughs and rattling leaves, scattering birds who flocked fearfully away. It was a sound too heavy for winds to carry west, but it traveled a considerable distance, portending the arrival of Niflheim's newest guest.

It was the only sound to gust from the forest before an eerie quiet beset it for hours, until a lone and harrowing figure shambled past the treeline. Hook-shaped and long-limbed, cloaked in rags lined in Slovak lace, the ancient and wicked old Baba Yaga ambled on towards the grounds of her new home. In her skeletal, blighted hand were mushrooms snatched from the very spot of her arrival, her iron fangs gnawing on worms grubbed from the roots. Her pace was slow, meandering, her size and stride comparable to a bear's. But she had time. She never had anything but time.

She found the pathway to Niflheim as the sun began its descent beyond the mountains. Below her in almost cavernous depths stood a building reeking of evil, its towers prominent, but its entrance inaccessible save for the staircase down. In her many centuries, she had seen towers. Castles. Their construction and their demise. Their glory and their ruination. This one was different - not only in architecture (that was quite different), but in promise.

The crone cackled, the full of her lungs lurching her back, and examined the lands surrounding the hole with a beady eye. There, a small distance away on a cropped hill, sat a small hut of modest, rustic masonry. She approached it and paused, taking a great whiff. It didn't smell like anything or anyone was inside and the old crone couldn't hear anything but creaking. The plank door was wide enough to allow her entrance, and with the slightest of pushes, it gave. An unnaturally chilled air billowed out and as her eyes blinked to adjust to the to low light, she spotted the source of the creaking - a metal chain hanging from the sturdy rafters. One of many chains, all with various hooks on the ends. Baba Yaga stepped further inside, noting the clean slabs and tables and the drainage vents in the floor. The hag grinned.

Why, the mighty and nefarious Lucifer had thought of everything, hadn't he?

liquorstoredaughter

Characters: Saki Konishi and Robin
Setting: Dinning Hall
Content: Safe For Work
Summary: Saki seeks out advice and gets more than she bargained for.
-
Hands briefly clasped behind her back, Saki took a breath and opened her palms so she could reach over and pull open the doors. She had waited too long to talk with someone about this. The young woman told herself that she only wanted to be certain that this person wouldn't look down on her for being weak or would blab to the other residents that Saki lacked any special powers. From the insight Robin had during the tournament matches and in the meeting, Saki had a feeling this was the right person to go to.

All the same, Saki put off approaching Robin. Waiting, hoping they could cross each other's paths naturally. However, this place proved to be massive; and Saki couldn't casually pace around the same haunts everyday and hope they'd bump into one another. So, she took to guessing when people would show up in the kitchens or dinning hall. Aside from the cleanup every morning, others kept their own rhythms and schedules, so it took a couple of days before Saki found Robin.

Wanting to remain casual, Saki moved as if she was going to walk by to head to the kitchen; a moment's pause, then looked to where Robin was seated.

"Oh! I didn't expect to see you here..." Saki began. She wanted to be subtle, perhaps make some small talk first; yet impatience got in the way. Although Saki promised herself that what that guy put up on the commlink didn't bother her, she had gone back to read it all the same. Even if it was coming from the enemy, he had confirmed her worst fear. People saw her as pointless. Dead weight. Something had to change, otherwise Saki could see herself dragging behind everyone.

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you. I hope you don't mind, it can wait if now is a bad time."

Saki hesitated to say more, but she felt it was worth noting that the matter was urgent.

"However, it is important, so if you don't mind I could use some help."

blades_of_mercy

Characters: Eileen and Ryuuji
Setting: The Grey Manor and the Bloodmire
Content: General warning; gore, violence, etc. TBD. Jolly cooperation!
Summary: The two Grey Manor residents attempt to explore the Bloodmire and retrieve the gem that Julius requested. If that fails, at least they got out of the house for a while.

Eileen stood out in the open on the pathway that led away from the great Iron Gate of the Grey Manor, the peculiar residence that had become her newfound home after her unexpected arrival in Morganda. Above her, a gaslamp illuminated her uniquely tailored cloak as it fluttered in the breeze, giving off the appearance of feathers and wings on the back of her shoulders. Her clothing looked particularly sleek at the moment for having her stand out in the light rainfall, an ever-present atmosphere that pervaded the area. It had been so strange to her, at first, to go so long without catching a hint of moonlight through the clouds. But then, any sort of change that signified the passage of dawn to day to dusk to night and back again was terribly strange to her, after living over the many years as the Hunter of Hunters in what seemed to be night after endless night.

She held her bone-white crow mask in her hands as she waited for the young woman known as Ryuuji to appear. Eileen described herself as “an old woman,” and there were indeed plenty of telltale lines of age in her face. There were the crow’s feet at the corners of her brown eyes, and the fleeting streaks of silver woven within her hair, in the braids plaited against her head. There were scars, one in particular striking through a part of her lip and down her chin, the tissue long since healed over. But her spine did not bow down to her years as one might expect. There was no doddering, no senile mumbling, no fretting over her aches and pains. She was still, but her mind was far from idle, her thoughts on her destination. The Bloodmire.

She was no stranger to dangerous places. For wherever the “blood-drunk” hunter ran to ground in Yharnam, Eileen had to follow. Here the task she had willingly taken on, to find a gem upon Lord Greyford’s request, was not what she would call a typical hunt for her… but she did know blood. As a hunter in her old world, she had taken blood as panacea, for wounds and diseases alike. Yharnam blood, the “old” blood, the holy medium discovered by the scholars in an ancient labyrinth beneath the ground.

As Eileen absently rested a hand against her hip, beside the hilt of her sword on her belt, her oddly curved weapon glinted wickedly in the dim light. As though it too contemplated the taste of new blood, like she did.

liquorstoredaughter

Characters: Saki Konishi, Akira Kurusu and Koyomi Araragi
Setting: Grand Shop of the Greys
Content: Safe For Work
Summary: Just three young adults shopping, acting casual and looking up insidious items . Nothing to see here...
Status: In Progress
-
After briefly stretching her arms, Saki was tempted to remain on her toes for a moment, in order to get a better look at the gate ahead. What was on the other side of it? Perhaps she should have found someone who had visited the Grey Manor before wondering that now. Also, asking someone she knew might have been a good idea too.

It wasn't that Saki didn't trust the two guys she was traveling with, they were on the same team after all. Yet, she wondered if there would be many awkward pauses and drawn out silences in their future. She could have approached her roommate, Yosuke or Kanji; but indecision led to her tagging along with someone else. Attempting to shake off that thought, Saki sighed and smoothed an invisible wrinkle out of her patterned skirt.

"...so?" she began, glancing over at the only other person by the gate. The guy who had called himself Araragi struck Saki as the kind of person that rolled out of bed, went to a mirror and then ruffled up his hair some more until he obtained that 'just slept in for a hundred years' look. In spite of wanting to introduce him to a comb, Saki went on to make jabs about their third companion.

"Are we waiting for him to finish putting on his face? Grab the right gloves or something? I mean, I'm not even a morning person, but still helped with the clean up and got here on time. So, where is he?"

atopthefoundation

Characters: All For One, Seras Victoria, [???]
Setting: Emptiness.
Content: Violent, mentions of torture and mutilation.
Summary: An aging cripple versus a young girl. What could possible go wrong?
Status: In Progress.

All For One absorbed the dusty granite atmosphere through the pores in the carbon mask concealing his seared skin. The road to the silent city had been uneventful, though he'd deliberately stepped off the path several times. Maybe out of unspoken respect to the man who tread along the steppe.

All For One had abstained from the apparatus, putting this slaughter on a schedule. He stood in prim contrast to the neglected city corner, littered with gravel and echoes. He wore a dark tieless suit, and the industrial mesh serving as his expression's labored breathing was audible only against the silent backdrop. As he waited, he thought of the conversation of the link.

All For One didn't know the woman who intended his death. The personality web had trickled many valuable tidbits onto him as he perused it, but no mention or prior conversation of this girl existed. Given her volatile temperament, it stood to reason she was a recent arrival, like himself. A duel to the death fresh off of the proverbial boat. All For One appreciated people who didn't waste time. The tyrant was aware that limitations beyond his failing health had been imposed on him, and he intended to prod at their boundaries.

The soft-spoken angel asked him if he was a pacifist while blood and viscera still coated the translucent gloves inches from the computer he made use of. Though few things made the tyrant laugh, the unintentional irony compelled a chuckle from his broken lungs. Matou-san breathed harsh, sobbing breaths low enough that she thought he wouldn't hear. He could hear her hands stop shaking as they clutched for a faraway comfort. Interestingly, it wasn't the pain.

When the procedure began, the agony caused a vacant, doll-like visage to surface like a drowned bird floating to the top of a lake. No amount of physical trauma swept away this plaster stoicism. However, the questioning that occurred subsequently did.

He asked her whether she was aware of her surroundings. She nodded.

He asked her name. She gave it.

He asked her who had made her body this way. She trembled.

He asked her if that person was present. She shook her head.

He asked her if she thought she deserved the sorry state of her body. She trembled.

He asked her if she could be killed. She shook her head.

He asked her if she wanted to be saved. She trembled.

Any further questions were met with only the face of that broken doll.

The tyrant had sewn her up and ushered her out after she had collected herself. He had accomplished what he intended. Now, All For One allowed himself to go with the flow. He'd beaten the drum, and now came the chorus.

What happened now...was war.

gorgutzeadunter

Characters : Gorgutz, Suzaku, Itachi, & Duck
Setting : The Vat
Content : Worksafe, but violent
Summary : Some Asgardians encounter a grumpy Gorgutz
Status : In Progress

It was some time after Niflheim's celebratory feast and the Warlord felt antsy. The ork slaughtered the competition and brutalized his way to victory, but tournaments were not an ork custom in the slightest. All his instincts told him to keep going, to crush, kill, and annihilate as the battle lust flowed through his very being. Yet the nature of this "war" was difficult to comprehend for the massive ork. Instead of going to face the Asgardian's on some front line everyone just goes back to their pits; and is expected to sulk around till someone instructed them otherwise. It felt wrong to him.

"WAR SHOULD BE DONE SIMPLE AN PROPAH, DAH FULL BRUNT OF ENEMIES AN ROIVALZ GIVIN ALL DEZ GOT TAH SEE WHOZ DAH STRONGEST..."

Gorgutz said to himself as he boomed along the foggy beach trying to understand how everyone just accepts this method of "fighting" other than "dey'z a buncha grotz" since this was obvious.

trophyeve

Character(s): Yui, Yosuke, Robin
Setting: The Secluded Cottage of Flowers / A cottage tucked away deep in the forest along the southern border of Emptiness.
Content: Worksafe
Summary: What happens when a tactician, a brown sonic the hedgehog and a catholic schoolgirl walk into a cottage?
Status: In Progress.

It was easy to overlook the small gap between two rose bushes bursting with blushing petals and thorns. A brave adventurer squeezing between the two would find a small path that dipped down and curled between two masses of trees on hills. Between those two hills was a small flower-filled meadow that served as the front yard to a small two-story cottage. Vines scrawled across the stone walls and sprouted flowers along the simple rooftop.

Not too long ago, before the trial, Yui and Robin had discussed the local flora and possibly cooking something together for fun. Robin had been wary, wanting to bring a friend along - Yui didn't blame her.

Just so he didn't worry, Yui had mentioned to Dio where she was going. He'd been pleased at her openness with their newfound friendship and had wished her well on her journey. Carefully stepping between tulips, pansies and daffodils, she crossed the meadow until she stood before the cottage door. Hesitant, it took her a few breaths before she drew in one big gulp of air and rapped upon the door.

parasitehaze

Character(s): Sakura Matou and OPEN to Niflheimers? Otherwise just a drabble.
Setting: Niflheim's halls at midnight
Content: Potentially NSFW if it turns into a thread? There's implications and it could get worse.
Summary: For the past few nights, every night, one woman wanders the poorly lit halls of the blackened castle of the deep.
Status: In progress. Or a drabble.

Slithering. Coiling. Tightening around her so much that sometimes she had to strain for the next breath of air. Success brought the sensation lessening around her chest for a time. Her fingers trailed over the thick detailed wood paneling along the walls with every slow step. Her socks slid featherlight across the polished wooden floor and were almost soundless against the rugs she traversed. A lavender ghost that tread from floor to floor without a clear goal to any who might have observed the young woman in her long white nightgown that fell to her ankles.

Sometimes her eyes rose past the floor to stare out a window. Sometimes they closed while she stood in place, breathing heavily until it evened enough to continue on.

A lost woman. A pathetic haunt.

preparedfortheworst

Character(s): Levi Ackerman and Eren Jaeger. Others may observe but not interfere.
Setting: Asgard Hallways.
Content: Perhaps NSFW later.
Summary: Levi Ackerman considers his role and turns to an unlikely source for input.
Status: In progress.

Erwin's lectures buzzed like the most insufferable insect trill possible within Levi's head. Ensuring that Asgard's hallways shone as immaculate as his haircut through berating and personal corner-scrubs failed to stifle them, which irritated him further. The scout captain had been in a quiet mood, which while not a good mood qualified within the spectrum of decent. Speaking of varying levels of decency, his subordinate had twice not launched into a frothing rage from someone showing debatable cowardice. The cleaning proceeded...adequately. Not well enough. Unity and fighting shape added up to three things they had yet to arrive at to his liking.

The issues outnumbered the chairs at the table. The spiky-haired bookworm had an anger problem to rival Jaeger's, and stupid power that eclipsed it. Most of the persona-users operated in cells that self-governed. The administrative figures didn't mesh well or have a solid hold. Demons and religiosity. Civilians with disparate levels of uselessness. Kanji Tatsumi. Solidarity began to trickle through, served by the casualties, but the retraction of that left things...odd. Vacuous. Unstable.

Asgard needed a leader, and it disturbed the scout captain to consider himself the probable option.

Without explanation, he'd manhandled Eren away from the hallways of cleanser and detergent, taking him to the side. Personally, Levi needed a confidant, advice, or something to fuck. Maybe all three.

After arriving at a somewhat out of the way conference hall stacked with empty chairs and blank chalkboards, he'd sat the black-haired teen on one of the tables and stared his stupid confused face down. It looked better when not contorted in rage, he supposed.

"Jaeger. What do you think of what's going on?" The scout captain asked, curtly.

pitchblackpig

Character(s) : Satanick and OPEN to Niflheimers
Setting: Niflheim's Main Hall
Content: Worksafe, but with a warning: flashing imagery.
Summary: Satanick makes his presence known the only way he knows how. With music and a bang.
Status: In progress.

Some may not have known that the Main Hall had one or more lightswitches. Some people were unobservant fools who ignored the simple joys in life.

( Click to witness the simple joys )

itscatherinebitch

Character(s): Catherine, Open to Niflheim residents
Setting: Niflheim Entry Hall
Content: Worksafe
Summary: Someone isn't happy with the limitations...
Status: In Progress

White Mary-Janes paced the length of the hall. An angry staccato beat echoed with each footstep. Although knowing her little bout of temper was going to ruin her favorite pair of shoes, Catherine still stopped and scuffed the toe of the right against the floor. Upon her arrival, Catherine had wanted to file a complaint right away.

Sure, she had wanted out from underneath her and Vincent's little love nest for quite some time now. Just a small outing. Some fresh air, a new man to attract or someone's day to throw out of whack. Was that really too much to ask for?

Instead, she was now locked in a battle against 'God', with a capital 'G' so she knew it wasn't Aphrodite screwing with her again; and a lord of an Underworld. Parallel worlds, timelines and multiple choice religions were not uncommon, but goddamnit if she didn't want to take part in their little capture the flag tournament. Or whatever passed for apocalyptic dick waving nowadays.

Now it wouldn't have been so bad if dear old Luci had invited and made her an equal partner. Instead, Catherine had a distinctive bad-taste in her mouth at the implication that she was just one solider among many.

"Ugh! Why did he nerf me?! I thought he and my dad were friends!"

Or perhaps, she had imagined it?

...probably. The blonde didn't think her father had any friends who were less pathetic than himself.

Still, a little heads up about the power-lock would have been nice.

renegadedown

Character(s) : Nicolas Brown and [OPEN to any 1 person. Once that slot is taken, please talk to me before assuming your character witnesses/can partcipate in this event.]
Setting: Moments after the sun has fully set, a section of Emptiness previously unseen appears.
Content: Worksafe
Summary: Unaware of what he's walking into, a wandering mercenary stumbles across a very particular part of Emptiness: the square in front of a particularly elegant church.
Status: In progress.

The mercenary had generally stuck to exploring places like Emptiness when fewer people would be out and about. Indeed, even the Grey Manor had difficulty catching him anywhere but the back allies or rooftops, as though traversing the open road was a forbidden anomaly permitted to precious few. He specifically entered the shops in the Grey Manor's grounds mere moments after they opened in the early breath of dawn, or minutes into their last moments of closing up the shop.

According to Julius, if anyone had inquired about the man during any of the open dinners in the manor - to which all under his protection were invited to wine and dine - his absence would be explained with 'it'd be difficult to get someone like that in a place so outside of his element.'

Indeed, Nic could be seen knocking on the door of the sole restaurant in Grey Manor's grounds during closing times, buying anything leftover and carrying it to his room to eat everything he'd been given.

Nic avoided, but not out of cowardice. He was not an avoidant man by nature. In a partially buttoned suit that might have seemed reminiscent of mafia or yakuza to those who'd had such things in their worlds, Nic currently wandered the backalley streets of Emptiness as the sun finally set.

Tagged were not allowed to wander on main roads. Lucky, then, that he could defend himself off of the paths. The streetlamps lit tiny pieces of the dark, cobbled paths between and behind buildings. These were less roads less traveled. These were the real life of the city, whenever it had life. It must have had life.

The tags hanging from the chain around his neck clacked against each other as he turned, one of the twisted alleyways opening into someplace...unexpected. It appeared to be an area a main street would lead to, but as open as the square was, all the roads leading into it were back alleys. What?

The light of the sun was entirely gone, leaving the buildings bathed in the silvery blue light of the moon. In the center of the square was a stage for...something, he wasn't sure what, and several yards behind it was a beautiful, clearly very old church with a strange symbol above the rooftop. Not a cross. Huh.

Nic took one step into the square.

The moment he did, the place burst with life - a massive crowd of shadowy figures began to play out their lives, several murmuring things as they passed by. He could partially see their lips as they cupped their cheek so the gossip would only reach their neighbor. He couldn't hear anything, but he guessed from the vibrations in his feet from the movement of so many people at once in such a massive crowd that there was a significant amount of noise to be heard for those who could hear.

People were on the stage, gesturing in red and gold robes.

Right. He'd take a step back into the alleyway and watch this play out.

pillageroftwilight

Character(s) : Akira Kurusu, Yosuke Hanamura and [OPEN to Anyone.]
Setting: Off the Roads leading to Emptiness.
Content: Worksafe
Summary: The Phantom Thieves are at it again. Well, one of them at least. And a new guy. Say hi, new guy.
Status: In progress.

After the meeting's proceedings had slowed to more personal gab sessions, Akira decided to exercise the fullness of his covert skill to duck out politely.

A trunk of wood the width of a Subaru shrilled a furious whistle as it swung over Joker's skull, the branches affectionately ruffling his hair as they passed.

Or maybe impolitely? Akira was scarcely the picturesque apex of high society. Finely dressed, at least.

Smirking, Akira elected to ride the next swing, leaping onto the monstrous limb and using it as a vault to gain more altitude. At the apex of his arc, he winked at the offended monster flailing at his coattails. As the descent began, the trickster tore off his mask, plumes of blue flame emerging along with

"SATANAEL!" The demon lord pointed its titanic firearm at the ground (and the tree-monster-thing) reaching up to catch his master in its gaping bark-maw.

"Ravage them!" Akira yelled at the grasping earth, raining caustic cyan heat down. Swallowed in the belly of the irradiated assault, the beast bleated like a croaking cow, before toppling with a thunderous THUMP that shook the underbrush.

Like a felonious feline, Joker landed on the ground feet-first with nary a sound. Compared to the din of well-done monster, anyways. The latter sound, however, had attracted some ill-tempered guests to this private cremation. Several identical forest-covered beasts stared him down with unamused glares beneath their knotted branch-crowns. Adjusting his mask and dusting some of the twigs off, Akira tried to suppress the manic grin stuck to his face, he really did.

But he missed this.

riversofbabylon

Character(s): Joshua Graham and [OPEN to Asgardians.]
Setting: A vacant assembling room.
Content: Worksafe
Summary: A man of God and his guns.
Status: In progress.

The Burned Man did not achieve his reputation through idleness. Wasting minimal time, Joshua had made a cursory map of Asgard and its immediate vicinity, secured the location of food and supplies, and set himself to work. Though salvation was oft prayed for, the Burned Man knew one could not expect the almighty to do all the work. After all, in this regard it could be said that the man himself was an instrument of the divine, called by his mouthpiece to do that which his charred hands did best; make war. A strange sensation it was to raise up his arms in service of true righteousness rather than necessity, however. The burned man had no objective love for combat. A task like any other, a grim chore that served its purpose of removing obstacles and clearing the path for what needed to be. The other New Canaanites, his brethren, did not have this revelation. Joshua understood. Peaceful and idealistic, the knowledge they possessed fostered a gentleness shared by few. If only that enlightenment could be spread, perhaps brutality and cruelty would bow to unity and understanding. The precept, bright and enchanting like cascading starlight, sounded like the tones of siren to Joshua himself. Compelling, comforting, but ultimately hollow.

The motions of the bandaged warlord's hands were near-automatic, similar to the fruits of their labors. Slightly tarnished gunmetal stood as a stark contrast to the peerless pearl sheen of the table they sat upon in clean stacks of six. Completing another after a quick inspection of the action he'd just lubricated, Joshua Graham finished the seventh stack of sidearms, spreading them out to ensure proper ventilation. The sun shone brightly through the window he'd left ajar. One thing the Burned Man did find concrete value in was the spreading of wisdom, the core of the New Canaanite's practice. The confluence of mutual intelligence would be how the world proceeds, but there would always be the need of dirtied hands and bootheels. Be it rational or philosophical, Joshua firmly believed in the inherent importance of teaching.

Joshua Graham took a minor respite, awaiting.

shampoofu

Character(s): Shampoo and [OPEN to Anyone]
Setting: A shop in Emptiness called 'Cutie Cutie Fashion Salon' with additional Chinese lettering below it.
Content: Worksafe
Summary: Successful ambitions are often the result of well-dressed schemers.
Status: In progress.

Successful women neglected nothing that could supply leverage to the next deal. Much of what led to success were minute details. One of the most important, in fact, was appearance. Trying to tilt an outcome in one's favor required expert attention and a critical instinct. For this very reason, the Chinese Amazon was currently pursing her lips and tapping the painted bottom lip in thought with one extended, wine-red fingernail.

Shampoo's grandmother had not shied away from teaching the value of one's appearance. Along with taking pride in herself, Shampoo knew it was always a good idea to showcase her beauty. For this, Shampoo had traveled alone to Emptiness and had begun clothes shopping. There was plenty of mundane but fashionable attire in the abandoned clothing stored scattered about the cityscape. Money wasn't a thing, but she did notice a small bowl on the cashiering counter with a neatly written message. 'Droplets owed: 0.'

When she lifted an appealing article of attire from a rack, the number increased.

Blink, blink.

It was cheap. Very good deal on clothes, it seemed. Most likely because the clothes had no armor or magical properties. Less important to the ongoing war they'd all been invited to participate in.

But that had had been earlier. Currently, Shampoo was still tapping her lip thoughtfully as she tried to decide between which cute dress (each with slits at the thigh for mobility) would be best both to appeal to her so-called allies and allow her to look great if it came to murder. She didn't mind "killing it" in more ways than one, as the phrase she'd once heard. Good phrase.

ferrumtheferal

Characters: Ferrum the Feral
Setting: What's left of the craggy rocks bordering Niflheim
Content: Safe For Work
Summary: Ferrum finds devastation due to the frivolous rage of another, and feels rage himself.
Status: Complete.

Continuation of this thread. Takes place several days later.

Ferrum let the sand of the devastated earth through run between his fingers. Moments earlier, he had been an avian, scouring and enjoying the sights of Morganda, when an unsightly scar in the earth caused him surprise. He had seen these lands, and something was different. Something concerning.

He landed and transformed into a human, surveying the wreckage, some form of event happening that was not natural. This area was not rife with life, but every place on Morganda was not completely abandoned, save for one.

Ferrum, using his magic, politely requested the earth lend him it's memory, so he could see the event. Before him Ferrum he saw a short man with enormous hair contort his face in anger as he blasted the desert. He flew through the air with much speed and purpose, but his concentration was elsewhere by the look in his eyes, then bringing truly shocking devastation. This was an arbitrary act.

Not hunting or gathering, simply damaging without cause. So many tiny lives ended, for utterly no reason.

Ferrum's own rage boiled to the surface.

He would find this man, and he would make him pay his own life as a cost. That was true neutrality. That was true fairness.

Bearing the rage of nature.

dragonbornjhanra

Characters: Jhanra, Mjoll the Lioness
Setting: The edge of Emptiness
Content: Safe For Work
Summary: With post-battle fatigue, Jhanra turns towards Niflheim until she is stopped in her tracks.
Status: Complete.

Continuation of this thread.

As Jhanra walked away from her technical victory, she couldn't help but barely contain the anger swelling in her breast. The storm clouds that were so devastating overhead dissipated anti-climatically as quickly as they had gathered. With her bow tightly gripped in her hand, she couldn't help but dwell on his cowardice and her own fury.

She couldn't help but not pay attention to her surroundings.

The sound of footsteps could have been heard by her keen ears, but they weren't, so focused she was on not earning another bloody death.

blades_of_mercy

Characters: Eileen and Julius
Setting: Witchlight Forest and the Grey Manor
Content: Worksafe
Summary: A new arrival is escorted to her new home by the grey shepherd.

Slivers of moonlight filtered through a small rift between the branches in the thick canopy overhead as dew-drenched leaves fluttered in the breeze. Beyond the path, the forest stirred innocently with the songs of crickets and small creatures. Their eyes caught the glow from the moon as the beasts darted and crawled amongst the shadows, all shapes obscured and twisted in the darkness. Then the wind picked up suddenly, a hollow roar sweeping away all other sounds save for the clatter of trembling branches and snap of breaking twigs.

When all was still again, the moon had moved just so along its trek in Morganda’s sky. Enough light was cast to illuminate the face of a bone-white mask, its silhouette tapered down to a point, like a beak. Its owner sat with her back pressed against the trunk of a tree, her body nestled between its ancient roots like an egg tucked away in a nest. Her attire appeared almost entirely black, with touches of silver here and there in the buttons that lined her vest, and the buckle of the belt at her waist. The cloak seemed completely shredded, but it was actually lined with dozens upon dozens of loose pieces of tattered cloth, the deliberate design resembling the feathers on the wings of a crow.

Ever so faintly, her shoulders rose and fell in time with her shallow breaths. Behind the mask, the wearer’s eyelids were closed in slumber, flickers of dreams hinted at in their subtle shifting motions. Something restless in her sleep, disquieted, began to rouse her, quickening her heart until she was gasping, panting.

She startled awake at last. The flinch of her shoulders was sharp as Eileen regained consciousness, and she began to notice her surroundings for the first time.

‘Was I… dreaming?’

thewhitereaper

Character(s): Suzaku Kururugi and [Closed, complete] Baldwin the Leper.
Setting: The Training Grounds at the southernmost portion of Asgard.
Content: Worksafe
Summary: A young, weathered soldier contemplates his decade of conflict.
Status: Completed

Private Kururugi, Reporting! Genbu had laughed that sandpaper laugh of his whenever the young boy would declare that to an unoccupied tatami room, feigning cleaving apart portions of imaginary foes in daring heroics. He'd ask his son, parting a bit of the mop of brown atop his head, whether he was the good guys or the bad guys this time. "Good guys, father!" The young boy would always say, hotly demanding of Genbu why he could never remember. Genbu would throw his hands up in mock surrender to this brave warrior, and apologize for his failing memory in his ripe old age.

Private Kururugi, Reporting! Declared the boy in oversized gray fatigues, to which Kyoshiro Tohdoh would give him a respectable thwack on his forehead. He'd ask the boy if he was immature or stupid, sharply reminding him that those titles and uniform carried weight and should only be wielded by those prepared to defend their homeland. The boy would assert that he was prepared, and get himself beaten soundly by the old soldier several dozen times. Fresh bruises would be fussed over by his mother, and the old soldier would apologize excessively for the boy's failings.

Private Kururugi, Reporting! Declared the young soldier in well-fitting riot gear to the duke clad in white and gold. The duke narrowed one pudgy eye socket occupied by a gaudy, fogged monocle. The young man always wondered whether one day the glass would shatter and put out the duke's eye. The young man wished very much for that faraway possibility. The duke would spit out the day's orders, jowls shaking like they a possessed great dane. The young man never questioned, never faltered. His spirit waned every time he heard the thunder of his weapon.

Private Kururugi, Reporting! The young pilot in white resisted declaring as the glimmering machinery at his fingers surged and purred, as though it had spent its entire existence eagerly anticipating his touch. The young man winced as Lloyd Asplund tittered in glee in his ears, urging him to take his shiny two-ton toy on its first date. He felt fear of the power in his hands, but conviction that quieted it.

Private Kururugi, Reporting. The young knight had imagined declaring as the princess with curls pinker than the sweetest rose had laid the blunt blade on his shoulder in a silent oath. She looked more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. He felt hope.

Private Kururugi, Reporting. The knight had declared bitterly under his breath when he had donned the ornate vestments and raised a holy sword, looking at six other faces he neither recognized nor cared about.

Private Kururugi, Reporting. The fake revolutionary had heard declared in his mind beneath the faceless black mask, tears he didn't understand falling as the man he once called brother shuddered and went limp.

Private Kururugi, Reporting. The fist of the Empress had thought for the final time as he rose, standing beside the small monarch with more pain in her eyes than he'd ever seen.

And now, here he stood. Suzaku Kururugi casts his brown gaze towards the horizon, called once again to do what he did better than anything and loathed even more than himself.

Private Kururugi, Reporting.

heavenwithin

Character(s): Kyousuke Munakata, etc.; all members who were present or part of the first trial.
Setting: The Throne Room / Assembly Hall
Content: Worksafe
Summary: As agreed upon by most Asgardians, a debriefing after the first trial has been deemed necessary. Whether they have agreed for the sake of those troubled by the event, to assert dominance, or to work out a plan of action, they all have their own reasons and perspectives for participating.

Status: In progress. Backdated, slightly, as it is assumed this happens the evening of the trial, after its end.

Wearing a high-collared set of white and blue robes that covered his neck and brushed against the floor as he moved, the blond-haired shepherd shifted to sit on the desk he'd requested be moved into the hall for the sake of the meeting. Indeed, several comfortable wooden chairs, with cushions, had been brought into the hallway as well so that no one need stand in the grand assembly hall that had once been a throne room.

"Mr. Munakata has been kind enough to suggest we discuss the events of the trial together so that we all may reach agreements on how to handle various things, such as going outside. I believe that we should discuss what occured so that those of us more troubled by events can be helped, as well. While we lost this trial, we haven't lost the war. We can do it. I am here to help you as much as I am able. All you ever need is ask."

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
8	9	10	11	12	13	14
15	16	17	18	19	20	21
22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30	31

Chaos Unraveled: 3rd Edition

where pawns become queens and the points definitely matter

{01} Prísť

{003} A Consultation

Quest G5: Bloodmire

Quest 01: Interdimensional Mall-Rats

[001] The Sound of War.

[003] A Chance Encounter

[002] Cottage Rendezvous

[002] And I'm Not Sleeping Well

[002] Considerations.

[001] There's No Way to Escape

[001] Lag Rage

[001] Where You Can Light the Fire

[001] Japanese Boys Nuke Harmless Forest Creatures. Thousands Horrified.

[001] The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establisheth.

[001] Droplet Discount Shopping

[001] Retribution

(Pre-Trial) [001] An Old Friend

Tonight Of All Nights

(Post-Trial) [001] Private Kururugi, Reporting.

[Trial One] Post-Trial Discussions

Profile

October 2017

Links

Syndicate

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags