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RE: (DF) The Hounds of God

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7/21/2012 7:07:37   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 13 CH13

Sir Berus took a slow, thorough glance at the men inside the hall, inspecting each and everyone one of them with sure clarity. Besides him, Sir Cus and Sir Rator, these men were from the 7th Division; A division currently in dire need of fresh recruits. Most Knight divisions normally had around a hundred units in its ranks. The 9th Division, a Captain-less Division had seventy-three men, whereas the 7th Division had a measly thirty-four soldiers. This was due to its Captain, Jeanne D’Arc, who’s reputed to send excessive amount of troops on assault missions, usually having nearly as much as thirty men as her entourage. True enough, success and victory were in her favor by having security in numbers but in the long run, her crude strategies had taken a huge toll on her forces.

Sir Berus bit his lip at the thought. For a strategist as he, wasting away precious soldiers without regard to tactical maneuvers was despicable. He feared that soon, the Inquisition may lose another Division of Knights.

“Anyone here cares to notify me with the details?” spoke Sir Berus to the crowd.

The Magus at the far end closed his book and stepped forward, a tall, blonde man with a mustache that swiveled at the ends. Upon his forehead were strange markings, magical tattoos that glowed faintly.

He towered over the lieutenant, a man already known for his height, with stern eyes. The magus reached for something inside his wool robe and presented the same letter given to him earlier by the messenger.

“Perhaps…You should have tried to at least read the contents, Lieutenant?” his voice had a low, gravelly tone.

Sir Berus said nothing, maintaining his calm. The latter raised a brow, then begun to unfold the letter before him.

“Brothers, Sisters, Children of the one and only King, we are facing a problem most dire. It seems iron will and steely dedication is no longer enough to preserve our mortal bodies. As our never ending battle against His enemies rage on, our forces grow thin with each passing day. Impossible as it may seem, this is the dreaded truth. The world is slowly falling into corruption and taint. Few remain to dare guard our King’s precious children. We are the last bastion against these heretical forces of evil.

So as a temporary decree, the remaining 10 Divisions will be integrated as one. The former Captains in charge of the Divisions shall surrender their command to me, the Grand Inquisitor. But worry not brothers and sisters, I alone can truly lead us to what our glorious God King wills!” the magus read aloud.

He took a short pause and returned his gaze down at Sir Berus.

“In other words, the Division system is abolished”, said the Magus

“No…More like the Grand Inquisitor wants complete control of the military to stabilize the amount of soldiers the Captains utilize in their missions.”

Sir Cus scratched his head. The man was never really good with politics. All he cared for was blasting his enemies to bits with gnomish bombs.

“I really don’t get any of this…” said the confused knight.

“Fool”, came a voice from behind the door.

The large doors sprang open with a loud thud, and out came Sir Rator.

“The Captains had too much freedom in using as much soldiers as they pleased, like a kid playing with toy soldiers. And thanks to your beloved Captain…” he glared at Sir Vice then added “…The rest of the Order is feeling the consequence of her actions ever since she became a Captain.”

“Y-you know the Captain?” nervously asked Sir Vice. His sunny expression immediately vacated him the moment Sir Rator stormed in.

Sir Rator looked at him with menacing, cruel eyes and made a nasty grin. The puny man was just roughly half his size. Suddenly, he randomly burst into mad laughter.

“HWAHAHA…Not really, boy. But with all the accusations pointing at her nowadays, I just felt like joining the bandwagon”, chuckled Sir Rator as he patted Sir Vice on the shoulder.

“If I may intercede…” said the Magus.

“All these ‘accusations’ regarding our holy maiden are all wrongfully directed. I know the Captain, and her actions are definitely pure and not worth of ridicule”, he batted an eye at Sir Rator for the prior comment.

“Hey hey hey, calm down people”, interrupted Sir Cus.

“Let’s not get all hot headed here. Say, why we are called here anyway?” he continued.

Everyone fell into silence. The Magus coughed, as a form of apology, and walked forward. Sir Rator himself had calmed down, somewhat eager to know the reason for the summoning as well. Sir Berus, seemingly uncaring of the commotion and all, crossed his arms and leaned unto a nearby pillar.

“Ahem…My dearest apologies for all that, gentlemen. So as to answer this young man’s question; the War Master, in accordance to this new decree, has issued everyone with new military teams with members from different Divisions” said the Magus.

“Why pick two Lieutenants then? And who commands this unit?” asked Sir Berus

“That, I cannot answer. The War Master and the Lord Judge were quite hesitant as to even inform the Magus sect of any further details. But as for your second question, it is…her.”

Everyone stood frozen at the announcement. Their eyes broadened with shock.

****

The young Inquisitor was soundly sleeping in her cozy bed when a loud series of knocks banged at her door. Immediately, she leaped out of her bed and ran towards the door. It was rare to for someone to visit her quarters in the catacombs and if someone did, it was usually something of great importance.

But something at the back of Jeanne’s head whispered that it might be something related to the incident a week prior; an incident where she and Noir had uncovered a secret that had hinted a dark conspiracy from the Order's past.

However, her first hunch was closer to the truth than she had expected.

Each successive knock was louder, faster and pounded harder than the first. If anything, the person behind her door must be very eager to see her, and was in quite a hurry as well.

Jeanne calmly twisted the door knob, and slowly opened the door.

To her surprise, there was nothing, only the dim darkness of the narrow secluded corridors that wound into the gaping unknown. She looked around for anyone probably lurking out of sight, but all she saw was a peculiar letter with a bright red seal on the ground.

She picked the small parchment, but as she did so, something from the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of something unnatural.

She focused her eyes into the darkness intensely, and there she finally saw her mysterious visitor.

It was a formless smoke-like being of pitch black gases, slowly fleeting away. It eerily swayed side to side in a weird, shambling gait. It hissed in a manner akin to several old men softly murmuring to themselves. Jeanne noticed that the ’being’ had a weakly pulsating orb-like thing darting around inside the cloak of smoke.

An eye, she thought to herself.

“S-Sanctus Oculus?...”




*********



DF MQ  Post #: 26
7/21/2012 7:27:55   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 14 CH14

"Wait!" called out Jeanne to the creature of mist.

The creature, known as the Sanctus Oculus, had its intangible body form into a vague spectral image of a hooded old man with a warped, blank face. It continued murmuring, but it has seemed to have acknowledge Jeanne's presence. It peered back at her and resumed its ghostly stride, now towards her, at a very snail-like pace.

Jeanne skimmed through the message; Apparently, the Order wants to retain her position as Captain, but not to comandeer her former 7th Division, but of a small squad of Knights curiously selected from different Divisions.

After the heated dialog with the Lord Judge, she was confounded to know that they would even want her to repress her role as leader, and from Hrolteus' own approval no less.

This obviously made her suspicious of the deal. She turned to the hovering Sanctus Oculus and said, "Tell my superiors, that I...will think this over. Give me two days time, if you please."

The black cloud responded with a deranged gurgling voice comparable to a man drowning in raging waters. Jeanne couldn't tell whether it approved or disapproved of her request, but it just spiraled into a foggy coil of smoke and disappeared unto itself, vanishing completely without a trace.

"I suppose that is a 'yes' then", said Jeanne as she closed the door behind her.


----------------------------------


An angry clatter of boots echoed towards the chasmal chamber. Its massive doors slammed wide open with great force. A hefty number of robed men and several knights stormed in.

"Grand Inquisitor! What is the meaning of this?" furiously roared Hrolteus, brandishing a piece of paper.

"What are you talking about, Hrolteus?" calmly replied the papal figure rested upon the golden throne.

"Who's the imbecile who dared to forge my signature upon this decree of having Jeanne D'Arc return to duty WITHOUT my direct approval?! She is still under probation!" He barked- his face becoming a tinge of pulpy red with anger.

Markus laid down his elbow upon the arm chair and rested his cheek upon his palm.

"That would be me. Jeanne D'Arc is a good soldier, and it is MY own volition to appoint her back. I don't even know why you had her restrained" he said, smiling.

"But she is no leader! She'll send those men to their untimely deaths like mere pawns to the slaughter!"

"You fear death...too much. I'm disappointed, Hrolteus. For someone who has since fought beside the 1st Grand Inquisitor, you lack faith. And to think that you are dubbed 'The Pious' by many."

"That is NONE of your concern, Honorius! I will definitely not let this pass by!", Markus had definitely pulled some strings for Hrolteus to get even madder ,albeit to his own amusement. Markus Honorius was a man of great patience, however it was never a great idea to question him. He loathed men of many questions.

His calm facade, already hid seeds of anger waiting to vehemently burst.

"Lord Judge Hrolteus, I suggest we think this over", spoke the heavy built man in heavy plate armor painted a bright shade of purple. Wrapped around his limbs where spiked metal caps, and thick lamellar linked steel plates draped down his horned pauldrons. He had frizzy hair the color of summer greens, tied to a tight braid that fell down his back.

This man was Warmaster Zammler Ohrtenweiss.

Hrolteus' eyes bore down into him and then turned to Markus.

"I ask of you to reconsider, Grand Inquisitor. Think of the years of painstaking toil that his Lordship, Gregory Innocentius had spent to build our great army. That GIRL that you press so much confidence on will be our ultimate ruin!"

In a surprising gesture, Markus rose from his throne; an act rare for the most powerful and influential man in the Inquisition.

"You talk like a soldier, Hrolteus. Perhaps you would like to switch positions with Warmaster Zammler?"his grey eyes flashed like balls of light.

"I am only concerned of the Order's survival and future, Honorius. Lately, you have been pouring countless hours on that girl. What is she actually that she sparks your fancy? If this persists, hear me, Honorius; The Order will drift into complete nothingness within a year if you don't do something about it!"

Markus waved his hand in the air, gliding his fingers as luminescent energies danced around them. His cold eyes brimmed with intensity.

"Blessed is the mind, too small for doubt", he whispered in his aging voice.

His golden runic braces began to shimmer, the magical etchings sparked to life with power.

"Spiritus dei sit super te et quiescam in cinerem revertetur."

Soon, bright cracks ripped across Hrolteus' face. Brillaint showers of light burst out of the gaps like fireworks. His body convulsed and began to inflate from within.

The old man never had a chance to scream in agony.

In a matter of seconds, he swelled into a bloated mass of his former withered self and imploded into a bright flash of crackling energies, bathing the entire chamber. What was left of him, was a bright blue skeletal apparition that was perhaps his soul, which was then consumed by a torrent searing cerulean flames and also devoured his charred remains, leaving nothing- not even a particle of what was once Hrolteus.

"Finally got rid of that headache causing of man. Why did I even appoint him as Lord Judge?" lamented Markus as he fell to his throne with a heavy sigh.

"No more questions, I assume?" he smiled back at the frightened Zammler.

The terrified Warmaster and his men couldn't say a word after what happened and hastily knelt before Markus.

"Hahaha...Most pleasing. Now we can proceed as planned, right gentlemen?"

The gloomy circle of elders seated behind him, known as the Ecclesiastical Council, all nodded in unison.

"She has seen what is essentially a masterpiece in the making. This only makes it more easier for her to realize the responsibility that she's about to shoulder, one that has taken three generations of Grand Inquisitors, irregardless is she's conscious of it or not."

"Jeanne, my child...You shall be the glorious flower of the Inquisition!"




*********






< Message edited by lordkaho -- 7/21/2012 7:36:48 >
DF MQ  Post #: 27
8/4/2012 5:54:54   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 15

The tall blond Magus, his bright, golden hair slicked neatly to the back of his head, squatted down to the floor of the training chamber as he carefully arranged the essential materials for the ritual. Within an ashen circle made of goofer dust, finely pulverized bone meals taken from a freshly dug grave upon the influence of a full moon, the middle aged man one by one placed the following items; a wash cloth used to wrap the first born of Spring that he had 'taken' from the Kingdom's infirmary, a serpent's first shedded skin, some volcanic rock taken from Mt. Shining Star, and lastly, a silver chalice containing blessed water that purportedly is mixed with a drop of blood from a 'divine' being- Though, according to Olaus' research and in-depth study of the Planar Entities, this divine being is said to be a Demon of Light.

"Watch closely, Milady. One of the magi's great frontiers, the creation and manipulation of life, second only to seeking knowledge of the infinite, is now but a word a way from completion."

"Olaus...You do know, that such emulation is heretical, right?"

Olaus tried hard to explain, the rough sides of his face trickled with sweat, suddenly growing nervous with Jeanne's disapproval.

"No, no!...Of course not, Milady! I carefully did everything I can so as to not tread in such dire, blasphemous powers. There is nothing wrong with the practice of such arcane magicks, as this is more likely to glorify the might of the divine. It is only those who traffic with the dark-"

"Enough, enough...What exactly are you trying to achieve here Inquisitor?"

"Like I said...LIFE! But more specifically...A golem. A being made of inanimate objects, breathed life by its creator."

Jeanne was aware of the existence of such beings, but most of them were constructs fueled by elemental energies. This one however, felt oddly different from what the norm had used. The entire preparation was a lot more complex, and so was the gathering of the catalysts, the items themselves were very specific in nature. In fact, the whole process was somehow reminiscent of alchemy rather than conjuration magic.

"Say. Where did you learn of this...Spell?" Asked Jeanne as she slowly raised a brow as Olaus was making the final preparations.

"Oh. About that.. It was the Chief Librarian. A few days ago, he held a lecture about about a religion centered on seeking the truth called Gnosticism."

Despite being a person who's perceived as cold and stern, she still possessed some sense of humor, as she herself wasn't safe from almost snickering at Olaus poor 'judge' of character. But soon, she grimaced at the thought of Lawrence teaching the mages such horrible, unspeakable forms of magic.

"It is done. Milady. This golem would serve a much better test of your abilities than those weak knights from the academy."

"Do NOT think lowly of those men, Olaus. They're my men, and my responsibility..." She pauses, being reminded of her own failures during the past as a Captain "...Whatever their strengths or weaknesses, it greatly reflects on my own capabilities as a leader. "

Olaus shook his head in silence, embarrassed yet again, but then proceeds with the ritual. He spread both his arms upon the magic circle, closing his eyes as he entered a state of deep meditation. More drops of sweat trickled down his face as nerves visibly bulged along his forehead as if he was mentally wrestling with some great force. His arms trembled, slowly sinking down, but he tried to keep his stature.

"E..M-Mm..Eeth..." He spoke, struggling to utter the word.

The two anticipated something like a huge burst of light or an explosion to occur, but there was none. Olaus tried uttering the word again, but once again his attempts were futile.

Nothing happened. The catalysts still lay on the floor, untouched. Not even a spark or particles of mana could be seen.

Olaus was in great disbelief that his ritual had failed, but Jeanne just stroked her forehead in disappointment.

"I could have sworn-!?" Exclaimed the disgruntled magus, but then came a voice elsewhere.

"You really shouldn't be listening to aliens, Mr. Wormius!"

"Huh?"

Like a shadow, she descended from the ceiling, landing upon the floor as quiet as cat. Her purple skirt and raven hair flailed about as she turned around to face the two. A confident smile hung on her face, one that somehow hinted aggression.

"H-Heaven Breaker...What a surprise! I am most honored to be in your presence, Highest of the Venator." Olaus quickly knelt before Noir.

"Funny friend you have here Jeanne. Did you train him to be like that?"

Jeanne quickly lashed a sharp look at her, one that Noir instantly understood.

"Olaus, leave us be. I think I have found a much better partner to spar with than some monotonous creature of clay and ash."

"As you wish, Milady. I shall further refine my abilities as not disappoint you ever again." And with that, he hurriedly exited the training chamber, leaving only Noir and Jeanne. They stood in a fighting ring, a rotunda at the center with a small elevation of half a meter high from the floor and was 10 meters wide, just enough room for fighters to do battle with each other without worrying of stepping out of bounds.

"Well. It has surely been a while, Noir." Smiled Jeanne as she stared at Noir with fierce, competitive eyes.

"Hey, you know my name!" Happily said Noir with a cheerful glee.

"Vampires are one of the lowest forms in this planet and I would never dare acknowledge their existence by referring to them such as a name. But you...You are much more than that. You are more than 'just' a Vampire, Noir Schwarze."

Noir smiled, then asked in puzzlement. "I...Uhh..Where's your weapon?"

"This entire room IS my weapon. Step forward and come see, Noir." Said Jeanne as she folded her arms, grinning as she provoked Noir.

"You have gotten so much weirder since we last met. I think you have spent too much time with Lawrence." Said Noir as she noticed Jeanne's slight change in attitude. But to her, it was quite refreshing sight to see.

"Either way...Let's begin...Jeanne!" She loudly shouted as she prepared to make a swift dash towards Jeanne. But just as she placed her foot upon the first block of stone on the floor, chunks of it came blowing off as powerful whirling buzzsaws attached to copper mechanical arms erupted from the ground and violently slashed and whizzed past her.

"W-Whoa?!" She exclaimed as each step she made triggered some of the monstrous saws to burst from the sandstone floor. In a just a matter of seconds, there were now at least several of the mechanical appendages going berserk in the training chamber, lashing out wildly with a metallic roar. Noir evaded their deadly blades, all the while breaking and smashing their fragile copper arms. She swooped down at Jeanne, who since the start has never moved a muscle, and attempted to strike her. She flailed her mighty calves into a crescent leg sweep at Jeanne, but the latter quickly retreats from the blow with a nimble back flip.

Moments from landing unto the floor, once again it blew off, sending chunks of earth and stone in all directions, and this time Jeanne lands on yet another machination, one with a round solid platform for her to stand. It was a spire of metal with a rounded flat top, its towering body looked something like a beehive with metallic platings. The massive engine whirred as the cogs and gears churned and turned inside.

Soon, the machine spat metal pellets rapidly in the hundreds, all aimed at Noir. She could see in great detail as the small projectiles whisked past at her like steel rain. Without a moment to lose, the vampire swiftly ran sideways along a zigzag path to maximize her dodging chances. The bullets hit and punched through the floor and the ground, causing more debris to come flying at her.

"Technology is grand, isn't it?" Said Jeanne.

"If...I...Ever...Find..Out..That..You..And...Lorch..Are..Cons..Pi.Ring..Against me...YOU'RE BOTH DEAD!" Yelled Noir as she ran with all her might around the chamber.

She tumbled unto some piles of scrap from the buzzsaw machines earlier and grabbed two broken arms still possessing functioning blades. Just as the next hail of bullets fired at her, she hurled with all her might the two spinning pair of saws at Jeanne's platformed machine. The metal projectiles ripped through the violently spinning blades, but nonetheless they smash through it causing a mighty blast, from which the latter had escaped in the nick of time. Jeanne landed on a sea of flaming scraps of metal and coughed as she tried to blow off the cloud of smoke and dust, but Noir was already coming right at her, with her right arm fully extended and clenched into a fist.

The punch would have reached Jeanne, but midway, the vampire spots an unnatural glint in the air. To her own surprise, it was trip wire, and a whole throng of it. Unable to stop her body, she suffers many cuts as the wires lightly sliced through her skin. But that was only the beginning of another batch of Jeanne's death traps. Having triggered most of the wires, soon all sorts of various traps had sprang out; from a spinning two nozzled flame thrower, to explosives planted beneath the floor, to barbed silver chains tied to cannon balls.

At the end of the tremendous chain of destruction perpetuated by Jeanne, a rather extreme display of Jeanne's over-preparedness- a trait she not used in a long time ever since appointed the rank of Inquisitor Captain, lay the vampire Noir breathing heavily on the ground. She was gasping for air, but not because of over fatigue, but from laughter. She chuckled so heartily that she was already at the point of crying with laughter.

Jeanne slowly moved towards her, and gave light, rather sinister, grin.

Noir wipes the tears off her eyes and said "Did you really have to rig the entire chamber? What the heck were you thinking??"

"Before I was a commander, I worked alone. Not as a Venator like you, but just as a simple soldier. It was this such 'devious' tactic that helped me take down a Death Knight."

"Huh? Never knew you, of all people, played dirty."

"In a away...Seeing you made me realize how powerless I am- that I depended too much on my soldiers and my sword. I have almost forgotten what's it like to fight using the indomitable power of a logical mind."

"What you did right now..Wasn't so logical you know." Chuckled Noir.

"Anyway, Noir. Stand up. Let us have another rematch.

Using both her legs, she sprang her body up, landing on the soles of her feet. Noir dusted herself off then turned to Jeanne.

"You're..Not going to use anymore bombs are you?"

Jeanne gave a light chuckle then said "No, no. We fight with THIS." Presenting her clenched fist at the vampire. At first, Noir thought she was joking, as she thoroughly knew Jeanne would not stand a chance against her in a fist fight, but she could see in her piercing blue eyes that she was definitely serious.

Jeanne poised herself in awkward boxing stance, somehow showing a sign that she was an amateur when it came to brawling, but Noir could feel that she was more skilled than that.

"Here I go. I'll be going all out on you...If that's okay."

Jeanne slowly nods.

In a blink, Noir's right fist sprang out with powerful shock wave, creating a sonic boom as she flexed her arm. Jeanne absorbed her punch with a double arm block, but she showed visible traces of agony as she tried to restrain the pain from the blow. Again, Noir let off another punch and Jeanne almost instantly blocked it, showing no signs of retaliating. The routine would continue on for three more strikes when just as Noir had pulled back her fist, Jeanne leaned forward attempting to deliver a straight punch. However, when Noir tried to devise a counter attack, Jeanne was actually prepared herself for enough momentum to spin herself into a spinning heel kick. Her boot ripped across the air as it spun into full force, but still missed. Noir was puzzled why she had attempted a much more complex strike when she could have just opted for a punch that had a lesser draw back, however soon Jeanne's kick developed into a wild flurry of kicks.

Noir was finding herself in trouble as she could not intercept the motion of Jeanne's attacks. A stance she previously thought to be boxing, was now that of a graceful dancer whose feet were a very unpredictable weapon. In fact, Jeanne seemed as she was dancing with Noir, who she herself seemed to be pulled into doing 'dancing' motions with the how she was trying to evade her attacks, a deadly waltz of melee combat.

"HAAAA--!!" Shouted Noir as she drove a punch at Jeanne. The latter once again blocked it, but staggers to a considerable distance from the impact. Noir slammed her foot into the ground with great force, making her imbalanced and fall into the ground. Noir was now sick of toying along. Her eyes blazed as she now went into complete battle mode. She ran up to Jeanne, who was not fast enough to escape her reach, then unleashes a mad series of crunching blows. Jeanne absorbed every single one of it, her bones now giving cracking noises as if her bones were getting fractured from such devastating fury. Normally, she would purposely let herself fall to escape further damage, but there was something that made her persevere with the pain. Her small body was feeling all the damage being thrown into her.

Noir herself could see that Jeanne was all accepting of this. It was as if, Jeanne was trusting her to do this. Self guilt? Acceptance? Asking for forgiveness? It was unclear. But just as Noir's crimson eyes burned with zest and passion, Jeanne's crystal cerulean eyes shone with determination and endurance.

The two were now locked into a destructive exchange of blows, no longer thinking of evading harm, but rather, sharing the harm and pain the both felt. Punches relayed back and forth as they hit one another in the face, ramming their fists with sheer passion. A relentless battle that didn't seem to end. The force from their punches were enough send small cracks into the ground and blow the dust away from them.

But finally, reaching the climax of their heated battle, the two opposing forces locked.




"JEANNE D'ARC!"

"NOIR SCHWARZE!"

They shouted both in unison, as if proclaiming their existence as one sealed by fate.


-----------------------------

As the cloud of dust had finally dispersed, the whole lot of the chamber left in great ruin, only the two were left, lying on the battered ground, their bodies just as battered.



"I...I have never fought like that in...years." Panted Jeanne.

"J-Jeanne..."

The blond haired girl turned her weary head to her companion with puzzled eyes.

"The reason I wanted to fight you right now was that..."

"..I'm leaving the Inquisition."

"But that's....Treachery! Why??" Jeanne exclaimed.

"No. It doesn't concern you or the Inquisition anymore. I first joined the Order thinking I would get close to her but so far, I have been at a total loss."

"So..I think this is my farewell to you, Jeanne."

Jeanne showed a hint of sadness, but then forms a smile at the vampire.

"No. Knowing you. We'd meet each other again."

Noir returned her smile. There was something about those words that gave her comfort and certainty. For once, the Vampire really felt the emptiness in her, that certain gap, filled with purpose. A sense of fulfillment she hadn't achieved for centuries.

But as for Jeanne, it was more or less the same, but beneath this fleeting feeling of happiness, there was dark foreboding truth that crept, laying in wait as it prepares to haunt her again.

One that Jeanne has been trying suppress all this time...





A very long time.






~*~

END OF ACT 1



< Message edited by lordkaho -- 8/4/2012 19:36:29 >
DF MQ  Post #: 28
8/16/2012 6:45:09   
lordkaho
Creative!


 ACT 2

The world is a cauldron of opposing ideologies, all seeking to prove what is right and wrong. But despite these conflicting views however, it was what caused the rise and fall civilizations over the course of history. The great wars and revolutions that pitted brother against brother, kinsman against kinsman had their own reasons, their own beliefs that they were willing to die for; was, in the end, a desire for change- the amount of which was also proportional to the scale of the conflict. It is sad, yes, but it is also the nature of all sentient beings. It is something that prevents life from becoming stagnant.

One such ideal, however, would lead to the death of a nation. A fiery death bed of regret and scorn.

Cannon fire roared like thunder as it blanketed the blazing battlefield with hundreds of incendiary shells, the explosions drowning out the awful cry of its combatants as they engaged in a nightmarish battle where the line between ally and foe were dangerously thin. No longer significant was the concept of factions as the armies were slaughtering each other, shooting and hacking to death all that moved. The men, though seasoned soldiers, were not exempt from looking like confused and frightened greenhorns on their first experience in battle. It truly embodied the saying of veterans, "War is hell." And indeed it was. Echoing with the screams of the dying and those still struggling to live, it was hellish symphony of war at its worst and bloodiest. Muskets, the flashy and loud prodigal sons of ranged warfare, would send men in the hundreds to their untimely and miserable deaths with a press of the trigger. Not even the finest steel armor was safe from the rain of bullets that tore through the air.

This bloody battle, marked the dawn of a new chapter; the advent of gunpowder. Just as how the sorcerers and warlocks of the past had changed the tides of battle with their magic, but as the mystic powers had waned, the battlefield was now slowly being dominated by this new technology.

However, amidst the raging chaos, in a secluded grassy plain lay a girl.

It was a peaceful spot devoid of the horrors of war, the lush green grass swayed as gentle breezes blew, unburnt by fire, and not stained by the blood of the fallen.

MUSIC

The girl, who was in her late teenage years, was clad in an officer's plate mail and was breathing heavily. Two puncture holes were blasted into her armor, about an inch in diameter, and she was was losing blood fast.

The wound she was suffering was grave and she knew she wouldn't last long. The agonizing pain pricked in her chest, but a different pain ravaged inside his mind. In this fleeting state of dying, she no longer cared about the pain nor the hope of surviving. Much painful was the sight of her most trusted officer, and her dearest friend, being forced to pull the trigger on her. As the two bullets pierced her body, she could feel the great regret and sorrow her friend felt. She tried to hate her, but in the end, she could not.

After much pondering, she bitterly wept. Though it had no chance to have a lasting impact, It was her ideals that indirectly brought this fate upon her country. She finally realized the destructive chain of events that had unfolded was a result of her own impulsive actions. All in all, everything that happened to her felt justified; that her friend betrayed her, that her army didn't trust her, and that her country had ultimately abandoned her. She kept thinking a 'what if' scenario had her people listened to her, but it was already too late. All she could hear now were the dying screams of a nation.

The girl tried to close her eyes, in hoping death may come sooner and she would no longer be burdened by her misery- It was the hollow and distant feeling of nothingness she was after, a feeling that was no longer spurned by emotions.

"Jeanne D'Arc...What is that, that you wish?"

The girl slowly replied. Her soft voice was no longer audible to human ears.

"Jeanne D'Arc...Where do you seek it?"

The girl weakly smiled, her thoughts were slowly slipping away, but she knew she was understood. Jeanne rested her head upon the grassy ground and slowly closed her eyes, ready to sleep for the last time and saying good bye to the world she was born in.





It was perhaps, that in this dream, she could see a world without the bitterness and harshness of reality.

A distant utopia.



~***~


< Message edited by lordkaho -- 8/16/2012 19:29:22 >
DF MQ  Post #: 29
8/19/2012 3:11:07   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 16

Broken, blood curdling screams echoed deep throughout the the vast and dark recesses of the Catacomb dungeons. It was an abhorred place where torture and death were a normal occurrence, where madness and unreason devoured its helpless chained victims, where the mighty and weak both shared the same cruel fate before their relentless interrogators, and where the most heinous experiments, from the eyes of society, were held, studied and documented by various Inquisitorial scholars, scribes, academics and what you may call 'early scientists'- all seeking knowledge that disregards the concept of physical and mental well being.

The scarring screams played in tune with sound of various metallic clinking and snapping, and somewhat muffled grumbles of several people. The maddening sound was akin to that of several butchers chopping and flaying thick slabs of meat in unison, but still, the cries never persisted its soul crushing rhythm.

Suddenly, the heavy metal braced doors swung open, and out came hooded men in white monkish robes; their tall pointed hoods reached up 2 feet above their heads, and their faces were almost completely concealed save for their mouths and also bore tiny open holes from which they could see. Each of them held a ring of wooden beads tied to a silver girded golden crown pendant. As they walked, the men recited deeply holy litanies, mentioning King Alteon as a supreme and infallible God King. They approached the center piece of the putrid, chemical smelling chamber, which was a group of Inquisitors dressed in tight black leather garments gathering around some sort of steel table.

The men in hoods then split in two lines, revealing the Grand Inquisitor himself behind them. Honorius moved slowly towards the table, even twitched an eye in disgust at what was laid on its cold and bloodied steel plane. His silver eyes laid gaze to a whimpering girl, her torso cut open with her sides held back by hooks to reveal her still 'functioning organs, her chopped limbs braced tightly by metal clamps embedded on the table, her skin was pricked by hundreds of metal needles attached to copper wires, and lastly, around her head was some sort of metallic device that had thick rubber hoses pierced into her skull. Miraculously, the girl was still alive, though was in such extreme and indescribable pain, and much weirder yet, was that her body seemed to be regenerating despite her current state.

Markus furrowed his thin, silvery brows and eyed at one of the Inquisitors.

"Brother Casius...What are your 'findings' thus far?" Spoke Honorius.

Marius Casius, one of the Inquisitors, came forward with fear and hung his head low before Honorius.

"My-MY Holiness...This is that girl we 'found' earlier. The one responsible for killing Orwyn the Black."

"Ahh...Yes. So this is the anomalous young girl, I was told of."

"We ran countless tests...But..She's just unconcievable! We tried everything. All known possible methods, and yet it's as if death ignores her! Our scientists and sages are baffled as to how her body still operates even under these such conditions as you see now...But we can't even formulate a logical hypothesis as to why and how she lives." Reasoned Marius.

"Have you tried using magic on her, Brother Casius?" Asked Honorius.

All of sudden, the Inquisitor fell into silence. The expression painted on his pale face was that of uncertainty and confusion. It was as if, the fact of being unable to comprehend this girl's unnatural 'immortality' was nigh maddening. Honorius himself didn't scoff at the idea of immortals, as such beings do and indeed exist, but this one was quite a rare case. Rare for someone like this girl, either way.

"Magic...Has no effect on her, Your Holiness."

Immediately, it caught the old Grand Inquisitor's attention. Honorius hurriedly walked beside the table, and lit his hands with a bright golden shimmer. His gaze fell on the scared, teary eyes of the girl, whose mouth was already dry with froth, saliva, and blood. The girl didn't look at him, but just stared blankly up into the dark ceiling. She was beyond broken. This traumatic experiment has reduced her to a soulless doll in a hollow shell of flesh and bone. Slowly, Honorius tried to place his glowing hand on top of the girl's sweaty and bloodstained forehead, but as expected, the globe of light instantly vanished the moment he touched her.

"Incredible..." Whispered Honorius with great curiosity.

He quickly turned to the hooded men, the Ecclesiastical Council as he calls them and spoke.

"Ready her for 'Purification' and 'Indoctrination'. She will be a blessing to us in the future."

'Perhaps...She is the one my Lord Alaya and Gregory mention of.' He thought to himself.

Markus Honorius once again returned his sights at the girl, and gently pats her on the head, as if trying to give her comfort.

"Does she have a name, Brother Casius?" Asked Honorius.

"No, Your Holiness. None that I remember, as we found her dressed only in rags with nothing else that could have given some sort of identification."

"Very well. I have already thought of a clever, fitting one for such a special gift such as her. She shall be named Jeanne D'Arc, after the fabled girl of myth and legend. The golden haired angel of no known origin that has appeared at various points in history, and has thus far became an enigma until this day." He smiled.

"Rest easy my dear child. This won't hurt." Said Honorius as he slowly placed both hands upon the girl's face.




"One needs not mortal eyes to see the truth."





...And once again, awful piercing screams resonated throughout the dungeon.

__________________________________________

"AAAGHHH!!" Screamed Jeanne.

She was heavily drenched in sweat. Her body felt numb and groggy. She tightly clenched the sides of her blanket and placed one hand upon her sweaty aching head. Her heart was racing, giving her much trouble breathing.

"A..Nightmare?..."She thought to herself, panting hard. She then realized that she had cried as tears dropped on her palm.

The frightened Jeanne grabbed her stuffed Pridelord doll and hugged it tightly as she fell back unto her bed, trying hard to empty her head also fearing to fall asleep as the nightmares might come again.

But as much as how she tried to dismiss it as a dream, the traumatic experience had been real...Or more so, it was a distant memory. One of the many memories she tried to forget.



< Message edited by lordkaho -- 8/19/2012 6:52:00 >
DF MQ  Post #: 30
8/27/2012 5:20:45   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 17

The crossroads, found far north of Surewood Forest, connected Lymcrest, a small Dwarven mining settlement, Verteroche Crossing, a quiet seafaring town and located far east was Willoshire, which was home to one of the several Guardian Towers that dot the continent. Because of its position as an important trade route, it has been the target of many outlaws and bandits who seek to rob and ambush the many supply caravans that pass by through that route. The Office of Trade in Verteroche has long sought to ensure that the cargoes arrive at their destination in tact but so far, the bandit problem has yet to be resolved.

However, the crossroads, with its thick, lush forests that hug the edges of the lonely roads, was also home to many mysteries that are often the tale of travelers who venture its eerily silent roads. Stories of unseen, dark creatures, unexplainable forces, and other magical phenomena, have made that particular intersection something to be cautious of. It was a place perfect for those who seek to shy away from society and yet still be close enough to it, hidden away by the wall of trees and its rather tranquil atmosphere that mask any of the underlying dangers within.

---------------------------------

With the wooden golems defeated, he sheathed both his daggers as the crackling energies from the surging blades died down. He gave a short sigh of relief as, after scouring the entire forest, he had finally found the entrance to his 'target's' lair. Had he not triggered the trap laid there, he would have not found the cleverly hidden hideout. After clearing away thickets of branches and some vines, he found a deep narrow hole. Looking down, he sensed several runes placed all throughout the dark entrance. It was exactly as what information he was given had described. Surely, after destroying the guardians, their master would somehow be wary now of an intruder, he thought cautiously.

But because of his nature, a lizardman gifted with the rare ability of being able to soak any form of magical sensing, such as clairvoyance and telepathy, excluding his own, it made it impossible for anyone, save for the most advanced of magicians, to detect his presence. He was a perfect candidate to infiltrate this lair, decided the Inquisition. The venator quickly slipped through the hole and below he met an earthen door made of clay and chipped pieces of rock. As previously above, the door was laden with runes and magical markings that acted like eyes. However, thanks to his special ability, they didn't react to his presence. He tried pushing the door, but to his surprise, was an illusion, as his hand phased through it. After going through the illusory door, he entered a dimly lit room filled with rows of book shelves. Along the wall was hundreds of nailed scroll and pamphlet clippings, all of whom had rather interesting headlines like 'Bloody Civil War Finally End', 'Slugwraths Dethroned!', 'The Voice of Alteon is the Voice of the People!', and 'Swordhaven Cheers As New King Is Crowned'. At one side, he found some sort of shrine where atop rows of lit incensed candles was a huge portrait of the previous Slugwrath King and below was a badly burned picture of King Alteon. He soon heard two people talking in the far corner of the room.

Creeping towards them with the aid of the shadows, the Venator readied his twin daggers- ready to assassinate the person he was tasked to hunt and kill. He perched atop one of the bookshelves and gained sight of person wearing a gold trimmed lavender robe. The man possessed rich golden hair that fell down to his shoulders, with a mustache that curved up along the edges. He bore a pair of stiff blue eyes. He was well dressed and was quite adorned by precious jewelries. Another traitorous Noble, he thought. Another beside him was a brunette woman, somehow in her mid-twenties, clad in a Guardian armor. On her shield was an insignia of the Willowshire Guardians.

"Vat iz zis Guardian conzpiring withh zis revel??.."He hissed.

However, the Guardian seemed to have caught a glimpse of his presence from afar and alarmed the Noble.

"My Lord! We're found!" Shouted the woman.

Flicking her fringers, a ball of electricity formed crackling into her palms which she quickly shot into a bolt of lightning at the Venator. The latter hastily evaded by leaping unto a nearby shelf.

"Clarisse, hold him off for me! I need to gather my things." Spoke the Noble as he heads into another room.

"At once, my Lord! I'll make sure this cowardly Alteonian loyalist won't live to expose us!"

She began charging her palms with energy again as the Venator leapt towards her, with bother daggers in hand. With a quick spin of the wrists, the Venator hurled one of the daggers at her which she blocked with her shield. But instead of deflecting the blade, it stuck. As if the dagger handle was tied with invisible wires, the Venator latches unto the air and yanked her shield off from her left arm and caught his dagger back.

"Why you-?!" She angrily screamed as she fired a burst of electricity at him.

He crouched, dodging the energy beam by a thin margin, and once again threw another of his blades at the Guardian. Likewise, she promptly caught it with relative ease and lashed back an intimidating smile.

"Some assassin you are."

Grinning like she had sealed her victory over the Venator, she clutched the dagger tightly and began to channel a electricity around her palms.

"So that's your trick. Daggers tied to thin, invisible wires...I've seen better!"

However, the scaly reptilian returned back an even more menacing and provoking grin, which further angered the Guardian.

"DIE!!" She shouted, as she poured a stream of raging energies into the blade in hopes of electrocuting the Venator with his own weapon, but the opposite had happened. Instead of electricity running down the thin cord, the dagger seemed to reflect back the Guardian's powers, and in turn, electrocuted herself with the same great energies she had released. Wild pulsing jets of electricity ran all over her, shocking every nerve in her body. After cursing the Venator for his deviousness, the Guardian fell down the floor dead.

"Ven zumeone vookss zike he intently threw zou hiss veapon, itzz vetter nott to catch eet..." The Venator remarked as he bared a toothy grin.

"CLARISSE!" Shouted the Noble as he entered back into the room finding his companion dead.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" Roared the noble as he bore down hateful eyes back at the Venator. The latter immediately dashed forward, as his dagger carved across the air, about to slice the Noble's throat.

But before the Venator was of hitting distance, the Noble completely destroyed him with his mind. His steely eyes focused intently at the Venator, as psychic forces tore the latter to indiscernible pieces, leaving not a scrap of him left.

The Noble fell back to a nearby table, terribly exhausted, as his mental powers had greatly drained him. Wheezing and coughing, he then heard Clarisse giving a weak moan down on the floor. To his surprise, he saw the otherwise dead Guardian slowly moving herself up.

"Clarisse! Are you okay?" He asked.

The Guardian placed a hand over her badly burnt face then turned to the Noble.

"Sir Klaus Silvermane..." She weakly spoke as she hugged him.

However, something was wrong- gravely wrong. The Noble widened his eyes in bewilderment and shock.

"Assassinated."

"A-A body snatcher-?!" But he could say no more.

With this new body, the Venator used his new host's powers and zapped the life out of the Noble with a sound blast of energy to the heart, while he was too stunned from the revelation to react. With 'her' target finally dead, the Venator took notice of a note inside one of Klaus Silvermane's pockets. It read:

"

Worry not, my dear friend. I have already amassed an army. In three weeks time, the family will be there. Please hold on for now, for when I return I will correct the injustices and blindedness of the people there.

~Fritz Aurelius

"


---------------------------------

Somewhere, in a land far beyond the Eastern Sea.



"Marvelous work, Alina! Right down to the simplest ingredient. It seems you have mastered this formula."

A purple haired girl happily glanced at the curious vial which she had concocted. Inside it, the beautiful sapphire liquid bubbled and lightly fizzled.

"No, it's thanks to you Lord Aurelius. I've never had a better teacher than you." Smiled Alina as she placed the vial at the tube rack.

The tall man observing her work behind her, a man with long flowing silver hair and a dignified beard with a monocle hung over his right eye, was Lord Frederick Aurelius. He was a master alchemist and Patriarch of the great Aurelius family, name that is much respected at the House of Lords. To be tutored by him personally, was at first something Alina could only dream of, but now she could not believe that she was among his top students. But aside from his great expertise in potion making, what fascinated her most was the fact that Lord Frederick was a half-Elf. Half-bloods were rare in the continent as inter-species relationships were somehow looked down upon, but with Lord Frederick's massive success and rather humble beginnings, it completely changed people's views.

Another thing that captured Alina's curiosity was Lord Frederick's origin. He was not born in their city of Schiffenberg nor was he a native from the continent.

A man of mystery, Alina thought.

After being finished with their experiment, the two exit the atelier and walked down a regal hallway guarded by a line of musketeers on each side. Frederick signaled over at a nearby servant handing over tea and treats for people passing by to come over.

"Some tea, my student?" Offered Frederick.

"Why yes, thank you my Lord." Happily nodded Alina as she was poured a steaming cup of red tea by the servant and a small plate of berry crunchlet cookies.

"Alina. Will you do me a favor?"

"Huh? What may that be?" Asked Alina.

"I'm sure you have already gotten word of this, but I and the family will be on an expedition towards the West. To put it bluntly, we're...Going to war. I'm not sure if you're in favor of this, but I need take with me 10 of our best alchemists to educate that backwater of a land."

"..I?." Said Alina as she held her breath. She could not hide the obvious glint of excitement in her eyes.

"Will you come with us, Alina? That brain of yours would be much needed there than here."

"H-hu...Y-YES!" Answered Alina, while rather nervous, was greatly thrilled by the idea of venturing over to a far away land. She loved her home, but to her, she felt that a greater purpose laid there on that mysterious magical land beyond the sea.

"It is settled then. Please ready your things, my dear student. We shall set sail by the end of the week."





< Message edited by lordkaho -- 8/28/2012 4:42:04 >
DF MQ  Post #: 31
9/2/2012 22:23:45   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 18

~*MUSIC*~

Panicked footsteps raced wildly along clumps of dried leaves and fallen branches on the ground. She took wide and long strides, trying to cover as much distance as possible, her brass trimmed, black armor not weighing her down, as she ran carelessly throughout Doomwood's demented landscape; crashing through thorny bushes and shrubs and long, winding branches and twigs that eerily resembled bony clawed arms. The dull, lifeless ashen trees, the ever present mist, and the black soil was enough to devour a person's sense of direction. But getting lost was the least of her worries, as fear was fast consuming what was left of reason.

In fact, getting lost in these woods would have served a much better fate than getting caught by 'them'.

'Is this retribution?' She thought to herself.

'...A payment for my horrific deeds?'

With every agonizing gait she took, she pondered about her life; Her life as one of the accursed Deathknights. It wasn't her choosing to become one, but rather an ill-fated encounter with a vile sorcerer. As time passed, her curse had left her with very little choices and in turn, she has succumbed to it. She found herself preying upon the children of Man, seeking to harm them with acts of evil and terror. It oddly amused her, and it wasn't until this fateful moment that she had realized the severity of her actions when it was her turn being the prey.

She had tried, in fact, to end her misery several times before when no cure came to her, but it was as if death was mocking her by denying her rest. She would've welcomed meeting her end right now, if not for the fact that an eternity of walking the earth with a life of undeath felt more comforting than to anything that 'they' would do to her.

She saw with her own eyes on how 'they' brutally massacred her party of unfortunates, who also suffered similar damning curses. It was not a death, she thought, that even she- a man-slaughterer, a consumer of the unborn, a hunter of the weak, and a defiler of all that is righteous, would have deserved. Not even the most vilest and horrible of monsters deserved to die by their hands.

The Deathknight tried to cry, a rather sad, pathetic gesture of a being such as she, but her lifeless eyes shed no tears. She wanted to repent for her sins, but when the harbinger of her end was far more merciless than Death itself, it felt as if all of the hope in the world was nonexistent. For once, her hands felt the intense misery of the victims whose lives she ended cruelly. Her devilish sadism had cost her horribly. Disproportionate, or not, hateful retribution was fast coming. It was only a matter of time.

She wanted to look back to check if she was still being pursued, but she feared that it would only slow her down. Thanks to her supernatural prowess, she could run more than several miles without getting tired and she wasn't about to risk taking such a miniscule move that hamper her in the slightest.

After wading through the black maze of woods, a glimmer of light broke through the dim darkness.

A small town house.

'Moonridge' She thought to herself.

It felt ironic that she, of all people, would seek shelter from the very people whose friends and family she preyed upon, but she was already at wits end. She was willing to take every chance she got, no matter how insane it was.

She figured that 'they' would only be after beings such as her and would not dare harm the innocent.

But as she was a mere few yards away from the small dwelling, a load, hoarse caw came above her.

Then came a second.

Then a third.

Soon, it was a demonic, frenzied flapping of black wings overshadowing her. Their metallic, unnatural screeches was most unpleasant and awful even to her deathless ears. All that she could see were thousands and thousands of small red dots that glowed menacingly in the blackness.

She tried to run further, even going as far as yelling for help on the top her lungs, but she noticed herself falling towards the ground.

There came no pain.

It came too late for the sad Deathknight to fully realize that she was already missing her lower half.

Then came a black, feathered figure atop her. It perched on top her like a bird of prey carefully analyzing the contents of its meal. The only thing her fearful eyes could see was cruel iron teeth, and infernal eyes. The creature spoke in a cold, gravely tone;

"Remember...Both the living and the dead...scream."

"Me..rcy.." She weakly cried.

Soon, the thousands of birds swooped upon the fallen Deathknight; a monstrous black sheet of feathers and a barrage of steel, flesh hungry beaks, and metal rending talons. She flailed and screamed as countless feathered monsters slowly pecked and bit her. They tore and ripped her apart, both in flesh and in soul. She scrambled around, brandishing her arms in order to shove away the birds in gruesome futility. It was a horrendous, painful and slow death. Her undead body felt little pain, but her soul screamed in horror seeing herself eaten. Her throes of agony were ultimately drowned by the mad chatter of birds, as they went on to finish her.

~*Music Stop*~

The creature, while licking scraps of flesh from his teeth with a long, red tongue, was approached by another presence who magically materialized beside him.

It was a frail old man dressed in a deep violet priestly robe. Hanging from his belt were books tucked in leather braces and a pouch from where scrolls sticking out could be seen.

"Finally caught up to you, lad. T'was troublesome locating your whereabouts, but good thing I remembered walking by that house over there." Said the old man as he threw a quick glance at the townhouse.

"Did you find...anything, brother?" Asked the creature.

"Regrettably..I did not. Those heretics did not contain any knowledge of value. But...It wasn't a complete waste of time. How did the purge go, lad?" He asked after noticing small splatters of blood and scattered lumps of feathers on the ground.

"The witch and her cohorts were dutifully exterminated. They shall commit no sin ever again."

"Ahaha...You glorify Him by trimming the weeds that seek to destroy his garden. Splendid work, lad. Now let us return and be away from this accursed wretch of a land." Said the old man before vanishing into thin air.

"Praise be His name, brother." Whispered the creature, as he too, disappeared by turning into a flock of birds soaring towards the blank, starless night.

---------------------------------------

The Inquisitorial training grounds; actually a vast chamber, was where most of the Order's soldiers tirelessly honed their skill and mettle in the art of battle. Compared to the last few weeks, the grounds were now full of vigor and bustling with activity. It was mostly due to Warmaster Orhtenweiss' orders that the knights would spend more than ten hours of practice and training at the chamber. With the backbone of the Inquisition, the now-dissolved Knight divisions, at a crippling number of being below the thousands, he sought that every man would be the strength of ten. Fresh recruits were hard to come by nowadays, as the Inquisition has 'extreme' standards for qualification. But the Warmaster feared that it wouldn't be too long before they were forced into the conscription of just about anyone.

Sir Vice swung his longsword forward, but was met with a clever parry by his opponent. He tried to go for another strike, but with a quick stroke, the sword came flying off his grip.

"Ughh...You beat me again, Adam." Said Sir Vice as he scratched his head.

"You should really get serious about this, brother. You should feel lucky of even stepping foot here. A knight of the Inquisition should not be weak!" Said Sir Adam Vice, Sir Nolan Vice's younger brother.

"I am...But I just can't match your level. I think I should find a new sparring partner."

"Hmmpf. You're too lax."

Getting scolded by his younger brother might look like something to be ashamed of, but Nolan Vice was already used to it as he was already ashamed of a lot of things. He merely took it as friendly sibling advice.

"You should be more grateful, Adam, that we could both give huge sums of gold to our parents. At least, I think I'm making father proud."

"Besides..." He added. "Everyone's been very busy lately, don't you think?" Nolan said as he went over to a nearby wooden bench beside the weapon racks for a quick rest.

"We're getting assigned to 'Chapters', akin to squads. I suppose people here are just trying to impress their new officers."

"..Or more likely, trying to not look like slackers in front of them. If you know who's in charge of us, you'd get the idea." Said Nolan as he grabbed for his water canteen.

Adam raised a brow then sighed as he sheathed his sword. "Of course, I can see where you're going here. I may have not personally accompanied the Captain on any missions, but I've heard that she was quite the disciplinarian."

"You forgot hot-headed." Chuckled Nolan.

"Speaking of people being busy...Have you heard the rumors, brother?"

The look on Adam's face told Nolan that it was something startling. When rumors arise within the Inquisition, it wasn't normally something to laugh about.

"Like what?..." He nervously asked.

"The knights aren't the only ones busy lately. Apparently, it seems like the Venator have been on the move as well. They aren't ones who get sent out into missions on a daily basis, but from what I've heard...Something must be wrong."


"Venators...uughh..That name really gives me shivers. I don't even want to know what kind of 'people' they are. Some say, they aren't EVEN human." Said Nolan. It wasn't rare for the rest of the Inquisition to fear the Venator, as they are somewhat considered an 'isolated' Cabal. They were a group of inhuman beings of great power, both dreaded and revered. Their purpose was to hunt and destroy other beings of great power that would prove too much to handle for a normal squad of Knights, so when news reached them about the Venator suddenly becoming increasingly active, it was only natural that they would hold great suspicion.

"...And it isn't just the Venator. But I hear the Apostles are getting deployed as well."

But before Adam could continue, Inquisitor Olaus Wormius hastily cut him off.

"Speak no more, Knight. Your words are dangerously hinting of doubt and fear. You know how His Holiness feels about men of doubt and many questions."

"O-Olaus?!..Since when were you here?" Gasped Nolan, dropping his canteen.

"Matters not. Come, Lieutenant Berus seek our attention." Spoke Olaus as he calmly led the way.

"Things sure are getting odder by the day." Said Nolan as he got up and exited the chamber with Adam.

Only the constant grunting and clashing of blades remained.




< Message edited by lordkaho -- 9/3/2012 20:40:48 >
DF MQ  Post #: 32
9/2/2012 22:26:27   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 19

Honorius lazily sat upon his golden throne; his face well rested upon his left hand as he gave a rather uninterested look upon three Sanctus Oculi, whose gaseous bodies served like the crystal balls used by many seers and prophets. The Oculi were scattered all over the continent, enabling Honorius to see far and monitor almost every quarter of the kingdom. The Grand Inquisitor had been scanning the coastal regions for three days straight now, mainly the great North-Western Sea, Dragesvard, and Sho'Nuff island. Ever since he had received the letter recovered by the Venator Julianus from Klaus Silvermane, he was greatly worried of an impending full scale invasion. Ever since then, he had ordered Warmaster Orhtenweiss to overwork the soldiers, the weaponsmiths to engineer new and sophisticated weapons and even created a new division- the Geographer and Surveyor unit, pioneered by the newly recruited Vurrmen. Their task was to survey certain positions in the landscape for critical points, advantageous and disadvantageous terrain, and neutral zones. It was only now that, Honorius greatly regretted ever killing Klaus Silvermane. Had he kept the Noble alive, the Inquisitors could've managed to interrogate him. They tried whatever they can to salvage anything from his corpse, but his brain had been destroyed by the electric shock he died from.


However, amongst the Inquisition, it was the Venator who was given the most crucial of tasks. Honorius ordered every Venator to hound every person suspicious enough to have relations with the former Slugwrath monarchy, to try and find out if they had any important information regarding the enigmatic Aurelius family. After toiling and searching for so long, they have yet to find evidence of the family name ever existing within the mainland.

'Foreigners...' He thought.

The fact that the Aurelius family were outsiders, made it hard for Honorius to anticipate them. The only knowledge he had of people not from the continent were the settlers in Opsrey Cove who came here almost two decades ago. These hardy, swashbuckling people dressed very differently from those from the Kingdom. They also possessed weapons, called 'firearms' that could be fired from a distance. If these people had relatively superior weaponry than their millitary, he felt uneasy of the thought that this so called Aurelius family would even be more technologically advanced compared to the Osprey Cove pirates whose armaments would now be outdated for at least eighteen years.

"Orhtenweiss...Anything important as of late?" Asked Honorius as he glanced at the Warmaster and his company standing before him.

"I am afraid we have none, my Lord. But rest assured we will uncover this conspiracy soon enough."

The Grand Inquisitor let out a deep sigh. It had been years ever since the Inquisition faced a problem of this magnitude. For Honorius, this was a test of his faith and his leadership. Should he fail, he would shame the other Grand Inquisitors that came before him, and most importantly, he would have failed the King. He once again glanced at the Oculi for any movement on the seas.

"Orhtenweiss. Sound the deep horn, call for Euphros to be on alert for any 'suspicious' sea going vessels." He ordered.

"At once, my Lord." Nodded the Warmaster, then signaled for one of his men to go.

"If I may ask, your Holiness..." Added Zammler.

"Speak." Said Honorius, while resuming his bored, nonchalant tone.

"I haven't heard of Heaven Breaker lately." Asked Zammler worriedly.

"Oh, the girl..." Smiled Honorius. "She ran away." Spoke the Grand Inquisitor in such a way that he seemed more amused than alarmed.

"SHE DID WHAT-?!" Exclaimed Zammler.

"Are you raising your voice at me, Orhtenweiss?" Asked Honorius with a tinge of sarcasm.

"I-..no, my Lord. I am dreadfully sorry. But Heaven Breaker-??" Reasoned the confused Warmaster.

"Spare her the leash, Orhtenweiss, she is not one you should anger. And...Besides, she will return indefinitely.

I have something dear to her." Smiled Honorius while scanning the coastal areas with his silver eyes.

Suddenly, in the midst of conversation, the chamber doors slowly swung open. Out came a frail, panting figure who seemed like she wrestled with the heavy metal doors.

"Librarian...What brings you to my court?" Asked Honorius with some degree of surprise. It was very rare for her to come out of the Grand Library, lest come down personally to his chamber.

"You boys seem troubled." Smiled Lawrence as she tipped her hat.

"Of course we are! Do you not realize how bad the situation is?" Angrily asked Orhtenweiss.

"Fufufu...You people look like someone who's been scouring the mountains for a gold mine.. When the thing you are looking for is just right in your backyard."

"Enough with your ravings, Librarian. Do you have any information we could use about the Aurelius family?"

Honorius maintained his silence while the Warmaster did all the questions. He felt like Lawrence Appleton knew something he didn't, however, something felt awry with how she suddenly came here. This person was always shrouded in mystery and dark secretsm, that Honorius himself somehow feared what Lawrence had to say.

"Well. You could have just asked me in the first place." Said Lawrence.

"And..Why is that?"

Anticipation gripped everyone as the conversation ensued.

"Because you see...



I called them here."

-----------------------------------------

MUSIC

"There we go. Here, Jeanne." Said Lorch as he handed Jeanne a neatly folded black garment.

"What is this?" Curiously asked Jeanne as she slowly felt the fabric with her fingers.

"Your new uniform. I mean, hey, I might be the master artisan around these parts, but I drive a mean sewing machine too!"

"I-uhh...It's not armor?" Asked Jeanne, when she discovered the garment looked like a long coat of sorts, with silver epaulettes fastened to the shoulders.

"Don't worry, you'll be wearing a breast plate underneath." Reassured the Gnome as we went over to his drawing board.

"Then why didn't you just craft me a metallic suit?"

"Style of course! Come'on, you'll look pretty dashing in that outfit. And not to mention you'd scare the heretics away for being such a smooth sharp-dresser."

"Sometimes...I really don't get you." But as much as how Jeanne frowned upon how unnecessary the coat was, she had to admit it looked pretty comfortable and nice. Jeanne always had an eye for black colored things, and when it came to outfits, it was pretty hard to resist.

"Oh, wait!" Shouted Lorch as if stricken with an idea.

"Err...What is it now?" Grimaced Jeanne.

"You'd look better if we paired that coat of yours with a really nice hat." Smiled Lorch.

"A-A hat?" Jeanne was way too confused at this point to even bother arguing. She knew that if she just went along, it won't explode into a heated conversation. She was beyond such things now.

"A peaked hat to be precise. The design was given to me by the Librarian a few days earlier." The Gnome then showed Jeanne a drawing of a man wearing a hat with a flat sloping crown and a black shiny surface just above the eyes.

"As I have figured...They made me their dress up doll." Sighed Jeanne.

"So...Can you try it now?" Impatiently asked Lorch.

"SILENCE!"





< Message edited by lordkaho -- 9/4/2012 5:58:01 >
DF MQ  Post #: 33
12/21/2012 6:19:54   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 20

"Lawrence Appleton!" Roared a steaming Markus Honorius as veins visibly bulged across his red face. The grand inquisitor slammed both his fists against the armrests of his throne as he stood up. Zammler Ohrtenweiss would have tried to calm him down, but this was not one of those moments. Honorius was rarely angered, and it wasn't wise to throw words at him when he was.

"Do you REALIZE what you have done?!" His voice, though impeded with old age, was still loud and strong. His tone demanded fear and great awe. Anger seethed with every word uttered.

"This Inquisition was founded for the exact purpose that no such conflicts like this would ever happen again!

By this act alone, you have SPAT in the faces of Grand Inquisitor Gregory Innocentius and Alaya Vistaraja, and EVERYTHING they have worked hard for to build this Order!"

"Y'know...You should hear me out first" Reasoned Lawrence, but the furious Honorius hastily cut her off.

" Don't dare silence me, Librarian! I will have none of her deceit any LONGER! I have persevered long enough to let you desecrate this holy Order....But it ends now, Witch!

I..I will have you executed in the most damning of ways for this unspeakable treachery!"

"Such...Awe inspiring words there, Honorius. But before you flay me alive, why don't you have a word with this big fella' over here."

Suddenly, a loud earth shaking boom ran throughout the chamber. The impact took everybody by surprise, enough for Honorius to promptly cease his anger. From the yawning iron gates, heavy sounding foot steps echoed. The foot steps marched on towards them at a slow pace, but it wasn't soon when out of the dark shadows, would this mysterious character reveal his face.

A face that would then defy all of logic.

A face that wasn't supposed to exist, at least, at this point in time.

Clad in an armor that could only be described as the visage of a dragon, three mighty spikes rose around each of his pauldrons. A great draconic jaw made of steel, complete with a file of razorsharp fangs, braced around the lower half of his face, while a pair of what seemed like iron fins were clasped against his ears. His arms were adorned with twin miniature dragon heads. The man easily towered over Lawrence; he stood in deep silence, with his intense golden gaze bearing down heavily at the council and Honorius himself.

"Gentlemen.." Spoke Lawrence.




"Say hello to the Golden Eyed Dragon King...But I'm sure you gents already know your history quite well. You might also be more familiar with the name- Gregory Innocentius" Sneered Lawrence, as she hung an arm over the legendary Grand Inquisitor.


The red faced Honorius quickly became pale as snow; rage quickly turned to fear, and he fell to his knees in tremendous shock.

"My-...My Lord!" His voice shivered.

"Honorius" Spoke Innocentius. His gravely voice was like the sound of crashing boulders, hinting much of his alleged dragon-blood.

"Is this what is left of my Order?" He asked, no doubt asking the lack of Dragonlords that once were ever present in his halls. His eyes moved side to side, taking notice of some of the decrepit and ruined features all over the surroundings; somehow indicating much decay had ravaged the Inquisition ever since his time as the Grand Inquisitor.

"Y-Yes...I am afraid, my Lord. I tried to follow your example but..Apparently..Time has taken its toil and.." Honorius was very much unlike himself. He never expressed this much fear and reverence towards someone in such a long time. Not even before the King he worships as a God.

"HONORIUS!" His voiced boomed once more.

"Y-Ye..What is it, my Lord?!.." He fearfully asked. No longer were it the voice of an aged, and experienced leader, but a young, inept boy looking up to his master.

"Hear me, boy. Is THIS what is left of MY Order?" The same question echoed through his lips.

"Yes, my Lord! I am so ashamed of ending up such a failure. I tried so hard to follow up to your standards, and yet..Everything is crumbling! And now, a powerful enemy is unleashed upon us, threatening to destroy everything you have begun! Please...Give me guidance, Lord Innocentius!" He cried.

"You disappoint me Markus. Hetaroi was right. I should never trusted you and Alaya." His eyes now blazed with golden fire, gritted his fanged teeth, and pointed his outstretched arm at Honorius.

"Lord..I beg you to reconsider...Please give me once more chance to fix all this!" Begged Honorius as he waddled on his weak knees.

"There shall be none. This Order is dead to me, and therefore, it does not deserve to be in MY PRESENCE!" He roared. The great Grand Inquisitor's voice reverberated through every crack and hole in the ground, rippled through every surface, and shook every pillar that stood.

That thundering voice, one rumored to move mountains and lash out the oceans.

The voice said to speak to the heavens and the very soil all of existence have set foot on.

It was a very surreal, otherworldly sound.

It was the voice of Dragonkin- the voice of Dragonlords.

With one swing of his right arm, as if calling out the elements slumbering within the earth, the entire chamber quaked and rattled. The stone foundations burst open and crumbled. Whole columns of marble and rock toppled over, crushing many of the Council members too mesmerized to save themselves. The very ground, as if alive, gave a low rumbling growl until it belched a destructive torrent of subterranean matter, stabbing the ceiling with great force. Then harnessing the violent powers of the air, Innocentius commanded the sharp winds to conjure a mighty hurricane that ripped every piece of stone block from the catacombs walls and floors. The tornado flung everything skyward, tearing everything apart, and excavating from the ground up, essentially digging itself out.

After several moments, Honorius opened his eyes, still wondering if he was still alive. But what greeted his sights was a suffocating view.

Flying several thousand feet from the ground, he saw the Inquisitorial Catacaombs, or where it was supposed to be, was now just a vast hole in the earth, stripped of everything; from the smallest pebble to the largest slab of stone. But looming over the horizon, was another terrifying sight.




Larger pic

"Alaya..." Crippling fear crept in his voice.


Tall enough to touch the sky and with a size so immense her shadow covered entire swaths of land, Alaya stared down at the miniscule Honorius. Her cold, apathetic gaze reflected her dark history as Grand Inquisitor. Honorius soon heard a sharp ripping sound sound. Setting his sights below, to his horror, Alaya tore out of his stomach then grabbed his face with both hands as cold as the grave. Then from his left arm, just under his arm pits, burst out another horrendous limb. Eventually, many of Alaya's disfigured arms ripped out of his body, trying to strangle him. Writhing in sheer agony, he howled and wailed, clawing away at the air helplessly. Then with a prompt creaking sound, another Alaya clawed herself out of his back this time, at the same time ripping out his spine. Wishing to numb out his pain once and for all, he grimaced trying to utter a spell, all the while wishing that it would work, but to his surprise all that came out was muffled words. Magically, out of nowhere, two pairs of hands felt up the insides of his mouth then forced out if it, struggling to break open his jaws.

With a loud, bone snapping crack, he suddenly fainted.

He woke up again, and he found himself sitting at his throne. The Catacombs was still intact, and everyone seemed fine. But like them, he was shaking nervously in place, with beads of sweat frozen upon his face. He then felt two hands gently stroking him on the sides of his head.

"Oh...What is this? It seems someone has some inferiority complex." Lawrence whispered.

Still too frightened to move a muscle, he asked "What did you do, Lawrence?"

Smiling ever so devilishly, she whispered into his ear.



Larger pic

"Oh that. Everything you experienced back there was a manifestation of your deepest emotional insecurities."


"But.." She added. "Unfortunately for everyone present here, they also experienced all of it. Every. Single. Second. Of. It." She grinned, her emerald eyes shining brightly out of the shadowed top of her face.

"What is it actually that you want, Lawrence? Why must you continue to torment us all?" Asked Honorius, almost to the point of pleading.

"Hmm...Well, I know what you have been cooking up all these years and you can definitely call me..interested." Her grin grew even wider as she clasped Honorius' pale face even tighter.

"Call this 'invasion force' a chance for our little experiment to finally get a hands-on approach." She finally released Honorius from her grip then started to walk away from the chamber.

"Those boys from the East themselves don't even know of the grand scheme of things, but hey...

That's what makes everything all the more...Fun." With a light chuckle, Lawrence disappeared into the shadows of the corridors.



*********






< Message edited by lordkaho -- 12/24/2012 6:45:50 >
DF MQ  Post #: 34
12/28/2012 4:41:27   
lordkaho
Creative!


 Chapter 21

Thick, black smog puffed out of the iron chimneys; tall metal spires that crowned the massive brick building below. One could hear the loud hammering of steel, the heating and welding of iron, the heavy slamming of mechanized pistons, the chugging of smelter pipes as its fiery furnaces roared against the music of the complex smithing process. This was Schiffenberg's largest war factory, the Aurelius Athanorum, which contained one of the best assembly lines to have ever mass produced machines of war. It was the personal workshop of Adolf Aurelius, a dwarven genius of an engineer and inventor. It was here where many of his prototypes were developed for alpha phasing and further tests.

Standing on the factory's doors was Frederick Van Aurelius himself, covering his nose from the dense smoke that came out from the endlessly toiling machines. He could see scores of engineers tirelessly laboring on their respective tasks along the production line. A monotonous routine, he thought, but he also lauded the extreme work ethic of Adolf's men. For them to maintain such consistency in quality was one of the major reasons the family name was so highly regarded as the top dealer of arms in the world of warfare and business.

"Adolf!" He called out.

A dwarf, possessing a stocky build and a pronounced belly nothing short of a beer gut, came forward. He was wearing a white sleeveless shirt drenched in sweat, thick leather overalls that formed a blacksmith's apron filled with pouches and pockets perfect for holding the many tools he used. On his head was a black bandana with a winged skull icon sewn on it, while an eye patch was swung around his face, covering his left eye. Stroking his impressive, salt-and-pepper beard, Adolf greeted Frederick with a hand wave.

"Fritz! What brings you to such a noisy and dirty place like this? Ha, ha!"

"Hmm. Even dignified men would dirty their hands should the need arise, old friend." Responded Frederick while still awkwardly trying avoid coughing from all the smoke.

Taking a quick glance on a war machine's unfinished hull sitting on one of the many 'work tables' that dotted the factory, Frederick signaled at Adolf to talk outside for a walk. The two strode along into the bustling city streets, filled with all manner of people, from all classes in society; paupers lying on the pavement asking for alms from passerby, labor men busy at hauling raw construction materials, vendors yelling away as they tried to lure the public's attention with their goods and wares, the bourgeois blissfully strolling about, and the refined elite, showering the area with their air of extravagance and glamour. Just a block away from the Athanorum, they eventually reach the docks where a small park was located, perfect for capturing a beautiful view of the bay.

"Adolf, I'm sure you know the details. Your men have been quite hard at work lately."

Adolf glanced at one of the galleon ships docked at the harbor, the St. Gloriana. He stared into the ship, admiring its fine craftsmanship and design. But after pondering for a while, he eventually spoke.

"Such a beautiful ship isn't it? But...I have made an even more beautiful one."

"You didn't answer me, Adolf." Frederick frowned his brows at the dwarf.

"...And it will be our flagship into Battleonia." Said Adolf, as he turned to Frederick.

"Come again?"

"A ship. No, an airship to be exact. I made one for this expedition of ours." He grinned almost proudly.

"I have not been informed of any projects about an airship..And no. This is not just an expedition, Adolf. We're going to war."

"Bah. It does not matter. You doubt my machines, Frederick? Our cannons have yet to fire a single shell that did not guarantee victory." The dwarf crossed his arms, almost in disbelief to the hint of worry in Frederick's voice.

"Our cannons might not work in this battlefield, Adolf. Our enemies won't be using conventional weapons like many of the armies we have fought. They may never possess a single rifle, or a pistol salvo, but they have something that is stronger, but immensely unpredictable--Magic."

"Magic, huh. Hmm...Come. I want to show you something." Adolf jerked his head, walking back to the factory.

"What is it, yet another invention that I was uniformed of?" Frederick adjusted his monocle, with a tinge of frustration in his tone.

"Don't worry. Your money is going to the right projects. Besides, the Aurelius family overspending is something unheard of." Joked Adolf.

"Not yet. Adolf. Not yet. We may have not lost a single war, but you do know how taxing it is on resources right? At least inform me, or my accountants or anyone who actually knows how to do book keeping, of the expenditures of every project you start."

"Hahahaha~!" He merrily chuckled. "The expense is novelty on its own. But seriously, just trust me and follow me back to the factory. I won't disappoint you, Fritz."

"You better not, old friend."

-----------------------------------------

Braving the clouds of smoke and the powerful smell of burnt metal, Frederick and Adolf braved through the hot interiors of the busy factory. Frederick was holding up a vial containing a chemical that made the dense air more breathable. The magic of alchemy, Adolf quipped. He wondered why Frederick didn't just bathe the entire factory with it, but seeing as how Frederick was already irritated, he just didn't bother.

As they walked, Frederick's sight caught notice of a particular section of the factory that was even bustling with action. It was where some of the experimental machines were being worked upon. It was a dark gray Siege gun with leopard skin patterns painted on its metal armor. Siege guns, dwarfing their more mobile, yet inferiorly armored and armed Assault Gun cousins, were still a new concept in the field of mechanized combat. It lacked a moving turret like later Assault gun models, but mounted an even bigger main cannon. Frederick was no expert spec analyst, but from looking at the bore interior of the barrel, he could see the Siege Gun was equipped with the new 148mm gun. Parked next to it, was few of the old Leopold Mk-IIs, and a Giovanni Heavy Assault Gun.

"That eh? I call it the Guderian" He pronounced with great emphasis. Adolf Aurelius always took pride in naming his inventions, and always after famous people. "It will be our most powerful mechanized unit if development goes through smoothly. It's supposed to act like artillery, but with enough horsepower to give it decent mobility. The half-ton shell that goes with this prince of destruction is able to punch through a Steel Baron, and that's really saying something. But like the Bach Mk-I, we still have problems with the anchorage though. It keeps sinking and toppling down with each shot. I have been seriously thinking of lessening the gun's caliber-..."

"Yes, yes, enough of the details, Adolf. And as for your secret project?" Interrupted Frederick.

Adolf led Frederick to a moderately sized object draped in a dusty white tarpaulin. With a snap of his finger, signaled one of his men to reveal the figure concealed within.

"BEHOLD!" Proudly proclaimed Adolf with a huge grin on his face.

It was the size of a normal car, but instead of wheels, it had three pairs of long copper-coated legs attached to an almost spherical body. It looked just like a spider, thought Frederick. Its main body was made of a transparent glass-like material and the insides where nothing but what seemed like an orb of condensed mana. The object looked surprisingly simple and lacked no other visible mechanisms and other contraptions.

"W-What is this?" Frederick asked.

"A mana jammer, which we dubbed Mozart. This thing will take care of all those pesky wizards and sorcerers you're so afraid of."

"But how did you-..." Frederick was pretty dumbfounded by this invention. It was perhaps he has gotten accustomed to the loud, clanking machinations of the land that he had forgotten of the concept of arcane devices. Indeed, the very nature of this machine reeked with magic that its existence would have been impossible using the technology present.

"Oh..Well, you should be proud. That student of yours. Alina, was it? Truly a brilliant lass."


"Alina?!"




*********





< Message edited by lordkaho -- 12/28/2012 13:09:24 >
DF MQ  Post #: 35
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