Guardians: A War of Heroes and Villains (IC)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by conman2163, May 14, 2016.

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  1. (OOC HERE)
    In the year 2020, the inevitable destruction of humanity looms. Terrorism and wars are at an all time high, a state of anarchy is spreading across the globe like wildfire, and villains from lore and legend are emerging to attack innocent people throughout the globe, each striving to establish their own domain. The god's themselves have become divided, with one side supporting the chaos and feeding it, and yet another side opposed to it, then with a third neutral party, determined to let the other gods hash the battle out, and fix whatever is left.

    The evil gods have been the ones summoning the villains from myth and legend to battle. Those such as Morgan Le fay, Mordred, and Vlad the Impaler being among them.

    However, the gods who have sided with the good have begun drawing heroes from the past to battle these villains. Heroes such as King Arthur, Lancelot, Merlin, and other members of the great legends of heroes are emerging to do battle with the great evil that besets the world. These heroes have been given newer, younger reincarnated forms, and sent to a place known as the Hero's Banquet Hall, an uninhabited island which has been repurposed to serve as a training and staging area for the new force of heroes.

    Together with regular soldiers from the nations of the NATO pact, the Heroes of the past have been preparing to take the battle once more to the enemy. Only one side can win. Order or Chaos.

    The stage has been set, and the heroes are about to be summoned. To win or lose though? And so the tale begins....

    A hero is reborn......
     
  2. GM POST

    On a small, remote island, located in the Carribean Sea, lies a small facility. The facility covers the underside of the island, melding with the trees and dense tropical foliage that act as natural camo to entrances to the facility. Near one such overgrown entrance, placed over a concrete pathway, was a stone arch, and underneath that stone arch, a magic circle was drawn. Nearby the arch were two men, dressed in modern military fatigues and carrying M16's provided to them by NATO, they were resting on a fallen log. Closer then them to the arch however, was a man dressed in what looked to be wool robes, spun by hand. The man watched the magic circle with intensity, as if he knew what was about to happen.

    Suddenly the arch began to glow with a blue light, startling the two soldiers who jumped to their feet and pulled the charging handles of their rifles, ejecting a round and loading one. They kept the safeties on though, too amazed at what happened next. They stood awe struck as the magic circle, now glowing red, suddenly flared up in blinding light, then disappeared, leaving behind a group of seemingly random people.

    The man in the cloth robes only smiled at the group of people who had appeared. It was as the gods had said, the heroes had arrived. Raising his arms in a bid of welcome, the man spoke.

    "Welcome heroes of the past and future. Welcome back to this mortal coil, you who have been called by the gods to serve once more!"
     
  3. Saragnayan

    Saragnayan was quite unlike the other heroes. His comrades, punier than he, were ironclad, and from their forms emanated a grace and chivalry so archetypally gallant, whereas the giant literally exhumed darkness from his very pores. In every external way, these warriors’ forms had a spirit of knightly extravagance, which nipped at the goliath’s patience every second he lingered amidst the small crowd. It was then that his unease was most evident—he believed leaving his cold and lightless home in Gadlum was a grave mistake. Rubbing his starlit eyes from the dismal flash of crimson light, the demigod of darkness stepped forth, his colossal frame inadvertently pushing aside his fellow men. Living in solitude years before this, Saragnayan knew not of social interaction. In the stead of a simple sorry, the giant was silent. No, he did not push the other heroes aside with malice aforethought, but rather innocence and unfamiliarity. He looked around, taking note of the verdant environment in which they were placed. Saragnayan sighed, a frozen mist escaping from his cold, crisp, blackened lips.

    “By the gods,” he whispered underneath his breath. “I’ve told them a thousand times over: I would not partake in the destruction of this world! Where are the dark ones that abducted me from my time of mourning!?” His anger began to brew ever so slowly. His dark heart began to beat fast. A week prior to this, he had unknowingly awoken from the sleep that is death. Perhaps it was a miracle, as the month in which he was revived was the month he had lost his wife, the spirit Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata. He had just collected a handful of hibiscus flowers to throw at the sea for his late wife before he was engulfed by the bright red light. Saragnayan turned his head and eyed the one who spoke. “I’ve told your masters before—I will not join you or your consortium. This world holds within it the memory of my dear beloved.” The demigod bellowed, still not understanding the situation he was in.


    “My ears, they deceive me. Heroes?” He asked, his intrigue piqued by the word. With a raised brow, he loosened himself. Tightening his fabric belt and adjusting the sash that hung over his unclothed body, he stood before the host who, in comparison to Saragnayan, was as if a dwarf. “Explain yourself this instance.”
     
  4. Robin Hood aka Robin Of Locksley

    Eternal bliss and happiness enveloped the great hero. He knew both love and warmth where he now called home. The afterlife was filled with everything the good Friar Tuck had promised. Time held no meaning in the afterlife, however the great hero suddenly felt strange. He could feel again, his body was plagued with pokes and prods. He could feel a heat envelop him, his vision was hazy. He reached out to his beloved, the fair maid Marian, but alas she couldn't reach him.
    He called to his Merry Men, but his cries were muffled by the light.

    A force unlike any other pulled Robin down. He was being pulled from paradise for reasons unknown. The next few moment could only be described as excruciating. Robin was being remade he could feel the pain of being human. His bones were materialized, followed by his muscles, his tendons, then his skin. Robin tried to flee his predicament but this force was to great.

    A blinding light surrounded Robin and a group of other unknown people. A man spoke but his words didn't register for Robin. He looked around, that's when he noticed his attire. "By King Richard what are these robes?" Robin inspected his new clothing it was something far different than his normal green shirt and legging. His bow and sword had changed as well. His bow had no string, he checked his person but couldn't find any arrows. "What sort of manner of madness is this?". His long sword was glowing and as he gripped the handle he felt lighter. "This is no ordinary blade?".

    Robin was then pushed to the side by a man far larger than any he had ever seen. "My word, how can a man grow to such height?, where is this place?, why was I pulled from Heaven?. An answer. I demand an Answer."
     
  5. Lugh
    Between physical and ethereal planes stood a place of "Limbo," a place solely reserved for heroes and legends of the past present and future. Most residents were not conscious of where they were or how time was flowing. There was an exception however. Part of one man's soul was still tied the physical realm. And because of that, that man could sense as time passed since his own passing. He was able to see the world that he left behind. He saw the life that blossomed and at the same time the conflicts and wars that devastated the land. He saw humans change and grow over time, but he could only watch from afar.

    It was many years since his own passing, but at one particular moment, the man felt a pull, almost a calling back to where he was from. He was hesitant at first since it had been years and he did not know if he was ready to go back to his own world. But nonetheless the man allowed himself to be embraced by the force. Suddenly he felt himself becoming solid. His physical form, a much younger form at that, began to materialize. His clothes and armor formed as well including a little satchel with a leather strap and some stones. While most of his belongings came with him, he felt something missing. A familiar presence. Yes, it was here on the material realm, but it was far away....

    In the middle of the rune stood a somewhat tall man with blonde hair, clade in shiny armor. He stood quietly and pensive, watching the situation unfold before him. Before him was a group of people all unknown to him, but from he could tell they came where he was from. Beyond them stood a old man who seemed excited for their return, calling them all heroes. Beside him were two men who appeared to be soldiers, armed from what the man in armor vaguely knew as "guns." Then two of the group began yapping about there own problems, but the armored man did not join them in their bickering. Yes, the man was confused, but now was not the time to show it. The group would have their answers eventually he concluded. After all, they had to had been brought back form nonexistence for a reason....



    Far away from the seal and the heroes that emerged from it, there was a country known as England. It had faced destruction at so many points in history that now, even with the threat of villains from the past, the people went about their daily business. What else could be done really? Now tucked away in its capital, London, was the all famous British Museum, storing artifacts from before written history itself. In one exhibit there was a case with weapons from ancient Ireland. One spear in particular had the caption under it, "Unknown spear from before the Roman invasion of the British Isles." It was partially right as it did come from that time period. But, what the normal human didn't know was what was contained within it. Stored within its metal was the soul of a woman, a soul who was waiting. It had waited for the return of someone for thousands years. It did now know when that person would come, but until then, it would wait patiently. But on that one day, it felt something stir within itself, something that woke it from its long rest. The soul within the spear slowly come back to life and uttered one single word. "Master?"​
     
  6. It was strange to him, that he had lived two years without the repeated cycle of dying a season to be reborn anew next season. Even further though was it strange to be the only mortal who never aged or really should say experienced aging at a much slower rate. And further stranger than that to him, was sitting across from a computer screen, speaking to someone he worked with on Psyke.

    Considering now he lived in the mortal world, and princes, thrones, kings and queens, did not matter in this world. He managed a job. A job as a musical teacher for 6th grade humans. Truth was that it was more of a sullen than job that matched him. Truth was the teacher life for humans was extremely lonely and he could hear the hurt in Jasmine’s voice whenever she spoke about her job.

    They were planning for the middle school dance, they were volunteered on the board to deal with it. Though Jasmine did not seem to find joy in even this activity, which he felt was taken a toll on him.

    He was going out on a limb here when he suggested, “How about the theme be fantasy based? Elves and witches?”

    Jasmine stopped talking, well she had been venting for half n hour.

    “You know Aubrey I find your mind a beautiful place,”Jasmine remarked, “How do you remain so beautiful, even with this job.”

    “Genetics,” was an appropriate human responses. Jasmine laughed, he faked a courtesy laugh, then she smiled. The kids called it, face time when the camera worked on the laptop.

    “Why fantasy?” Jasmine asked with a sigh, she was a plump woman, average in the face, sort of plain, but she tried to beautify herself with layers and layers of face makeup when she was at work.

    “It seemed something the students would enjoy, considering,” Aubrey rummaged for the words, he was still learning all the lingo and words to use, “considering” he repeated, “the remake and reboot era of retro movies. You know Larry Hatter and the Wizards Gem.”

    “How do you do it?” Jasmine asked, giving him a passionate and focused gaze, the kind of gaze you’d give to someone of deep interest.

    “Do what?” Aubrey asked.

    “You’re 25 and I’m 29, yet you make the words retro, and remake, and reboot sound so….hip. When I do it I sound like an out of touch hag,”

    The right response was a well placed compliment, but he really didn’t feel up to it. He didn’t want her to think something else and as much it pained him to be cruel, he was not reproductively viable for the mortal woman anyway and beyond that she was not attractive to him. So he just opted from saying anything.

    Pretending to fiddle with something, again another appropriate mortal response, with an awkward clearing of Jasmine’s throat.

    “So, about the dance,” Jasmine said.

    Aubrey shifted uncomfortably in his chair for a second and tried to smile. Though it came out as a pained grimace he was staring at his embarrassing grin.

    “I’m sorry Jasmine,” Aubrey said, “It’s getting late and I do have a class tomorrow.”

    Her own expression shifted, she tried to recover, as she was quickly taken aback from the sudden shift of the conversation. She of course smiled and laughed nervously.

    “Of of course Aubrey, I have to be grading these papers anyway, we’ll talk more about it tomorrow at work,” Jasmine said, there was a flush pink to her cheeks.

    “I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more,” Aubrey told her.

    “But we see each other almost everyday,” she added, he considered this was her way of coping with the awkwardness. She had failed to impress him and she knew this, that’s what her expression on her face said. Though he knew it wasn’t her fault, it was his. He couldn’t love the world the same way as she did. He was not of the same world as she was and it wasn’t just her that was enamored by his unearthlyness most mortals were.

    “Night Aubrey,” she said.

    “Goodnight,” he said quietly.

    They hung the call and he was left with the reality of his situation. The weight of his reality was that he was somewhere in between, a displaced Elfey kin and a semi slow aging mortal. He was neither of them, something in between the both of them. Yet, he was not sad, nor was he happy, comfortably neutral holding onto a newfound freedom he possessed.

    He liked his freedom a lot actually, it was nice to not feel a sense of dread every time the winter came. Now, what should he do with his sullen life? Getting up from the office chair, it was clear to him he should practice something for tomorrow’s curriculum. But first, he was going to make a salad. Heading over to the kitchen, he began to take out a spring mix.

    He’d decorate the bowl with cherry tomatoes, and maybe some carrots. He liked the sudden change from greens to beautiful colors, fresh strawberries cut in half, maybe even some sunflower seeds. That looked nice, staring at a masterpiece in his bowl it was as almost like getting hit by lightning.

    A flash in his eyes and the next minute he was standing elsewhere. Much like the fondest memories of existing and being ripped out of his pages to exist again.

    Carrying his salad bowl, Aubrey was looking around, it seemed he was not the only one here. A man in cloth robes spoke to them, "Welcome heroes of the past and future. Welcome back to this mortal coil, you who have been called by the gods to serve once more!”

    Just as he was reveling in the fact that he had freedom, it was suddenly ripped from him. Aubrey glared only slightly. He had received his freedom years ago, was he not allowed to enjoy it? Meanwhile, every one around here was not carrying a salad bowl with them.

    “So the gods request my services, even though they abandoned me years ago and expect me to simply go with losing my freedom once again,” Aubrey spoke elegant as always, soft spoken and meek, but noticeably irritated.

    For now he’d ignore the others. Unless they engaged him.
     
  7. Merlin

    Light. This was the first thing she saw after ages of nothingness. Where was she and how had she come to be? The last thing Merlin could recall was dying in a cave in the arms of someone she cared for dearly. And now… She could see feet, or at least what appeared to be her feet, standing on solid ground. No, this couldn’t be right. After all, she was certain that she had felt the icy grip of death at her chest followed by never-ending darkness. As if to make sure that frosty hand was no longer there, the woman reached a gloved hand up to her chest, touching the area at her sternum gently. She felt nothing wrong. Taking in a deep breath, the fact that she was truly alive came crashing into her with a suddenness. And not only alive and well… the woman slid the glove from her left hand, peering at it questioningly… she was young again. How could this be happening? It was not right. She had been prepared for death, even welcomed it after her long life of fighting and hiding and now… would she have to do that all over again?

    Emerald eyes wide, her gaze lifted from the ground, eyes peering out across the land in front of her, along with the strangely dense group of people she seemed to be packed in with. The movement caused the blue hood about her head to fall back slightly, revealing about three-fourths of her face. Glancing around, it looked like she was stuck somewhere in the center of some group of people – few of which looked like they belonged on this planet, let alone in her era. Where on Earth was she? In a bit of panic, Merlin took a step back, afraid of what sort of dangerous company she could be in. The action caused her to step on the foot of someone nearby [Lugh]. As she did so, she would stumble just a bit before finally righting herself and muttering apologies to the foot she had tread upon.

    Looking down at the shoe, she saw what looked like armor, and followed it with her eyes to the very top of the person wearing it. A knight? One of the King’s knights? She felt both a sudden wave of relief, and at the same time, an overwhelming tension fill her body. If this was a knight, she could be in a world of trouble if she outstepped her bounds. It also meant that there may be someone here that she at least had some common ground with – meaning he was the only one she looked at and recognized SOMETHING about him. “Thank the heavens…” She murmured quietly, placing a hand down toward her hip and thankfully finding that her trusty sword was still there. Looking down at it now, it even appeared to have lost time itself and, pulling it from the sheath, she noted that it gleamed almost like new. Dropping her head back down to let her hood cover her face, Merlin gently slid her left hand back into her leather glove. Where would this be going?
     
    #7 SoleStride, May 14, 2016
    Last edited: May 15, 2016
  8. The Grecian hero, whose name echoed throughout the passing of time thought with absolute certainty that his soul would have been stuck in the underworld for eternity. At first, as punishment for opposing the gods by dragging his greatest rival's body around the once-impregnable city of Troy, Achilles was stuck to guard the banks of the River Styx against any mortal who dared acquire the invulnerability he had been renowned for and offer them a warning regarding the curse it brought along with it. It was a laborious duty at first, since a great many warriors who heard the rumor of his invulnerability by sheer happenstance came rushing to the underworld to acquire nigh-immortality. Though he managed to scare off a good deal of "applicants" with his warnings, those who did not heed his words were vaporized and swallowed by the unforgiving river. After a few thousand years of such duty, he had finally been allowed entry to Elysium. But no sooner than he had stepped foot in paradise's garden, a wave of surging energy enveloped his battered body before he could fully enjoy paradise. The last thing he felt was pain, and for a second, he wondered how he could feel pain if he was merely an ethereal existence. But as if to silence his thoughts, everything suddenly went blank.

    The next thing he knew, he was dressed in his full combat gear and he felt like he was in a younger version of himself. If he had to guess just by the feel of it, his form was that of his during the earlier years of the Trojan War. He definitely felt younger, yet he also felt weak and inexperienced compared to the last years of his previous life, when he was at his peak. It was as if he was living as a shadow of his former self.

    After a few moments, he had temporarily ceased focusing solely n himself and instead, assessed his new environment. All around him stood individuals of different shapes, sizes, and forms yet all of them seemed to be in the same boat as he was and all of them seemed to be talented and powerful in their own right despite his lack of knowledge regarding their identities. There was a rather menacingly tall dark-skinned man, a woman with emerald eyes dressed in robes, a blonde man wearing armor, a man who seems to be in the midst of eating a salad and lastly, a man with a bow. He instinctively clicked his tongue in annoyance when he saw the bowman. This was a natural reaction specially since one did end his life prematurely in the past. Hopefully, this individual wasn't Paris of Troy, or else, by the Gods of Olympus, he'd impale the sly bastard with his trusty spear in a heartbeat.

    For now, he ignored his displeasure towards archers and turned in front of him. He heard the man in front speak the words "Welcome heroes of the past and future. Welcome back to this mortal coil, you who have been called by the gods to serve once more!"

    That mostly sheds some light on a few things. The man dressed in woolen robes more or less confirmed that everyone present, aside from the male magician and his two cohorts wielding the strangest of weapons, was, to a certain degree, recognized as a hero. That, and the "gods" have called upon their aid to with an affair in which they cannot directly intervene.

    "So let me get this straight. Everyone here's supposed to be someone who had performed amazing feats and gained great renown in the heroic deeds they did in the past? If that was the case, and the "Gods" decided to implore OUR help, then things must be pretty messed up here in the surface, huh? Interesting..." Achilles mused with an enthusiastic look in his eyes.

    "Make no mistake though. I serve no king or god. My will is mine alone." For a moment, his enthusiastic look turned into a piercing, murderous glare, before he reverted back to his carefree demeanor. "Although, if I'm in the mood, and your interests just happens to coincide with mine, then I wouldn't mind carrying out an order or two." He added on a cheerful beat.

    Right now, he was just glad to be alive. He may have been robbed of the chance to see his family again but, on the bright side, he could continue increasing his reputation from where he had previously left off.
     
  9. GM POST "The Old Man"

    The old man smiled and let out a low chuckle. Many of the heroes were already protesting about them having been dragged back here. Though a few, such as the woman dressed in the robes and trappings of an ancient wizard of days past, were looking more confused then anything.

    "Calm yourselves, please. You all have been pulled from your chosen resting places to serve the world again, we are in need of your power. Those of you who do not wish to serve the will of the gods will simply be returned to dust and wiped from existence as well. The gods have no need for uncooperative heroes, and no Elysium will be granted to any of those who do not die in service of the gods."

    His gaze shifted to Achilles for that last statement, the icy smile the old man held was more then enough to inspire fear in the worst of enemies that the old man had faced in his lifetime, and Achilles simply was not as strong as any of those enemies. The gods truly were desperate to combat the evil that had risen, and the battle need everyone to be willing and cooperate. Shifting his gaze back to all of those before him instead of just a singular hero, the man continued to speak.

    "Of course this will be no problem for most of you, as the reward they offer is far greater then any punishment you might endure. The gods offer to each of you three wishes, of any size and shape. They are willing to grant them. For some of you this means returning to the afterlife, for some of you it may mean the wish to become a god as well, any wish, of any kind, they are all yours."

    The old man the pointed back at a nearby portal that was made of a swirling purple substance. The portal itself was built into a flight of stairs heading downwards.

    "But enough chatter, there is an objective that must be completed by all of you already,and our enemies strive to reach it before us. For now, I ask that you simply trust me, all of your questions will be answered when you return. Down that flight of stairs lays a swirling purple substance that you need but step through to enter a portal down to deep within the earth, deeper then even the underworld reaches. Once through the portal you will find yourself at the outskirts of a long forgotten city, and at the center of that city lays a great pillar of ice. Frozen within is a hero known as Deanta, he is the reason why many of you even exist today, and we all owe a great debt to him. He is one of the most skilled warriors to ever live, yes Achilles, even more skilled then you, and will do wonderful things for our cause, however, you must pull him from that pillar of ice and bring him to the surface world once more. If he falls into the hands of our enemies he could be an even greater threat then you could possibly imagine."

    The old man let his hand drop, then nodded to each of them.

    "Well then, that's enough of that for now. Get a move on."
     
  10. Siberys Of The Valley

    "Mortal?" Siberys questioned rather annoyed, fully intending to rise up and take off, leaving this human behind. All he managed to do was fall flat on his ass, it was at this point he noticed he had trousers on. "why am I wearing clothes?" He questioned allowed before raising his hand up to his face to find it was human, not just humanoid, but fully human. Still sat on the floor he let out a yell of panic and then jumped up to question the old man "Why in the name of Avalon have you created me in a human form?!" He half shouted still trying to understand why he couldn't fly, or even utilise the most basic of magic's he normally had at his command. In his anger his form shifted, only slightly, towards the normal dragon form he would have. Surprised by this he flexed his claws and looked at them "Hmm... I see" He said and glanced down at the tail lashing about his legs in barely contained frustration at still being mostly human. He relaxed somewhat as he glared at the old man, "I can see now what happened." He shook his head and rubbed his temples, a rather human gesture for a once dragon.

    "It hangs, just beyond reach," He observed as he tried to probe the limits of his form. Wings blossomed from his back and little more happened beyond that, he snarled in annoyance at the lack of anything he would consider 'truly belonging to a dragon'. He seemed detracted until the mention of three wishes. He considered for a moment and laughed "The gods are not genies, All things they offer come with catch or clause after as well as before." He said and shook his head "Though if there is evil upon this world I see no reason to be rid of it as fast as possible." He said and for the first time glanced round at his companions. A man in armour who had spoken up against the man in robes as well however now seemed content with aiding him for a unknown reason, Siberys put him down as a braggard and warrior. A man armed with a bow and sword, who seemed to be talking a manner almost like his own after a quick analysis Siberys put him down as a hunter, archer and general scout. He then saw the man clad in armour with the blond hair. Almost dismissing him out of hand as a mear warrior it took a moment to notice the way the man stood and held himself, He was proud but seemed to be missing something, it was almost tangible. Siberys made a note to keep an eye on this one before moving on. Next he came to the giant of a man clad in shadows. Siberys took a few moments carefully looking the man over he decided that while the man was clad in shadows he was probably also a fighter though far different from the others that surrounded them. Then came the strange pale gentleman, It took a few moments before Siberys recognised one of the elf-folk, or one akin to it at least, he decided that he would ask of this creatures heritage later should he get the chance. Whatever was going to be happening was going to be interesting to say the least.
     
  11. Robin Hood

    Robin heard the old man speak and suddenly understood the situation. "Clearly the only way for we Champions to return to our rightful resting places is to complete the task at hand." Robin drew his blade. It was light, much lighter than any blade he handled before, upon closer is pectin he can see mystical markings along the steel. 'Enchantments?, this man be more than what he seems.'

    Robin raised his blade in the air. He then knelt facing the old man and lowered his sword planting it in the ground before him. While gripping his blade with both hands Robin spoke loud and with purpose. "Then if it be the only way to return to my beloved, you have the strength of Robin of Locksley."

    Robin stood up and sheathed his weapon. "Then, to battle. Come Champions follow me to war and victory. We will celebrate with fine wines and a grand feast by nightfall. So says Robin Hood!!!" Robin started walking tword the portal not even looking behind him to see if anyone was following him. He was used to his Merry Men following without umbridge
     
  12. Saragnayan

    The dark one knew of the evil about which was spoken. After all, Saragnayan was no stranger to the darkness. Quite literally, his world revolved around and was founded upon the blackness, as well as the moral terror that follows suit. Because of the demigod's questionable allegiance and source of identity, his being attracted the very evil these gallant heroes endeavoured to defeat. Indeed, the demigod's essence was sugar to their hive of insects. Having been offered to walk the path of moral evil by the ethereal foes themselves, and having turned his back on this invitation, Saragnayan knows of the futility of these heroes' missions. Still, there were such things as times of desperation, and greatly missing his beloved, chose to ally himself with these petty mules at least as, for the time being, the critical cynic. Nodding his head, Saragnayan stepped forth, pacing behind the ragtag group of heroes.

    Just then, a crimson light, the same as the light which had enveloped them all in the beginning, flashed beneath the arch. There stepped forth a large, foul-smelling boar. It was grotesque, and bore an unsightly appearance. It appeared to the heroes as a giant, undead pig with blackened fur, and yellowed tusks. Its eyes were bloodshot, as if it had lived its life without a day of sleep. From its snout trickled a viscous mucus, and flies had spiralled above it. The boar possessed an ill-favoured physicality, seeing as from its pores, worms would emerge, only to squirm, wriggle, and burrow back into its fetid body once more. The animal squealed as a wild boar does, and as it stepped forth beyond the light, its hooves tapped gently on the stone floor. It was the size of an average car, and every bit as loud.

    “My heart.” Saragnayan said. “You should have stayed home, beast. I cannot risk you getting harmed. My very existence hinges on your own.” Saragnayan was caressing the animal, his attention to his beast alone. However, upon hearing the bravado coming from the mouth of Robin Hood, the demigod was rather irked. It was as if this archer had not known the gravity of the situation they were in, or worse yet, he knew but did not care. He shook his head, stroking his wispy white beard with contempt. As his unnamed boar trotted behind its master, Saragnayan became the first to reply. “It is not wise to treat your foes so lightly. The strength you pride yourself on, dearest archer, pales in comparison to the darkness. A thieving street rat is something I can hardly call a champion.” Saragnayan said, stepping forth and easily looking down upon the puny human. A seven foot tall giant, Saragnayan had to kneel to gaze upon Robin Hood's eyes. After uttering his words, Saragnayan did not wait for the man's response, and he and his demonic pet paced on ahead.
     
  13. Jeremiah Helsing

    Jeremiah stood on top of the hill, looking out towards the east. He watched as pillars of flame, in the distance, shot up from the ground and into the dark sky. A dry wind whipped around the hunter, doing little to protect him from the black sun that hung motionless in the sky, scorching the land but giving little to no light.

    Time in hell passes more slowly than it does on earth so although Jeremiah had been dead for 40 years on earth, he had spent well over a hundred years in this plain of torment. And what a long, tiring years those have been. He had not been idle with his time, there were more than a few demons here that had remembered him from his time as a mortal monster hunter. Now, Jeremiah was trekking towards, what he was told, a town of human souls whose inhabitants were being tormented by some vagabond demons. The hunter could not help but be aware of the irony of his situation, a human hunting demons in the realm of demons. Perhaps that was his punishment, to spend his afterlife in an eternity of hunting and being hunted. His train of thought was broken when he heard the sound of flapping wings behind him. Before the hunter could react, a large mass slammed into his back, sprawling him across the rocky ground. He only had enough time to roll over as a large spike like limb plunged into the ground where he had been less than a second ago. Jeremiah's eyes followed the limb until it connected to the monster that had attacked him.

    The demon was vaguely humanoid, possessing a hunched human-like torso that rested upon three legs that ended with six claws. Where a man's right shoulder would have been sprouted more than a dozen tendrils, one which was extended into the ground beside the hunter. Nothing was connected where the left shoulder would be but below it, near the ribs, Jeremiah could see an open mouth filled with rows of sharp, inhuman teeth. The demon's head was smooth, lacking in any features but its multitude of unblinking black eyes were embedded into the insides of its two extended wings.

    "Hunter!" screamed the beast, pulling its first tendril from the ground and preparing another tendril to strike . "You have slain my brood, bathed in my sibling's blood! For them I will tear your heart out of your chest!"

    Before Jeremiah could respond, the second tendril imbedded itself into his stomach, pinning him to the floor as the demon let out a scream/laugh in triumph. "I will drink your blood, hunter! Your flesh will go to the beasts of the sky and your bones will go to the dogs!"

    A third tendril lifted towards the black sky, poised at the Jeremiah's chest. The hunter shut his eyes, waiting for the blow. What came after death in the afterlife? he wondered to himself. Before he could learn the answer to his question, he felt a pulling and the demon's tendril smashed into the ground. The hunter had, to the demon's disbelief, disappeared. Its tendrils thrashed and whipped its surroundings while it screamed in rage and confusion.

    +++++++

    Jeremiah opened his eyes and took a sharp breath. He forced his breath to steady itself before making a peculiar observation: the air was warm and pleasant, not anything like the desert air of hell. Jeremiah looked up and his next observation was equally as strange. The sky was blue and the sun bright.

    "Jeremiah," the hunter murmured to himself. "I don't think we're in hell anymore."
     
    #13 jeshem, May 20, 2016
    Last edited: May 20, 2016
  14. Lugh
    Lugh listened to the words of the robed man. The man promised that they, the heroes, would receive wishes from the gods themselves. He pondered on that thought for a few seconds. The gods were not ones to aimlessly hand out gifts to mortals, so there had to be a catch. Something must be very wrong. Something that the gods fear enough to call upon "heroes" to clean up for them. A slight pain broke his train of thought. Lugh looked to see a person trip and land on his foot. The figure muttered an apology to which Lugh replied with a gentle, "No worries. A simple step on the foot won't do much harm."

    He focused his attention back on the hooded man. The group was given orders to retrieve a person from the depths of hell it seemed. But before he could ask questions the individual before him, the man beckoned them forward followed by a hearty and merry cheer from a man who called himself Robin Hood. Seemingly out of nowhere, a giant boar appeared at the seal they were just at. Lugh was slightly fazed by the sudden appearance, moving slightly to prepare himself for an attack. But that attack never came as the giant approached the undead boar calming it. Then it dawned on Lugh that if he were to go to battle, he too needed his companion. Stretching out his hand in front of his body he called out in a serious tone, "Failinis, to me!"

    Across the globe at the British Museum, the spear began to violently shake. Visitors stared confused at the glass case until it shattered violently. The onlookers dove out of the way as the spear seemingly flew out of its housing, piercing completely through walls and soaring through the streets of London. New energy invigorated the soul within the spear. It seemed to cheer inside, happy for the return of something. "Master has returned and he wants me! Oh what a day!"

    Back at the seal, Lugh continued to hold out his hand, waiting as the minutes passed. Inside he felt the presence coming closer and he prepared himself. Suddenly a spear crashed into the ground in front of him, scaring the nearby soldiers. Though frightened, they did not seemed threatened by the sudden appearance as the day was already getting strange. Lugh stood and watched as the spear transformed in front of him. In matter of seconds, the spear transformed into the figure of a young woman no older than twenty, dressed in a suit. She had dark brown hair, braided neatly to her shoulders. She knelt before him, clutching her chest, and respectfully said, "Master, you have called me?"

    "Rise my friend," he commanded, stretching his hand for her to hold. The woman grabbed the hand and slowly rose looking up at the tall armored man. Quickly she hugged Lugh, holding him tight and shouting excitedly with tears of joy in her eyes, "Master you have returned! Oh how have I waited for this day! I missed you so much! I thought you were dead!?" Realizing that others were watching she released Lugh, wiping the tears from her eyes. She straightened herself quickly and once again in a respectful toned asked, "What do you need of me Master?"

    Lugh chuckled at the emotions of his old companion. He was not surprised by the embrace as it was a typical response from her. In a calm voice he responded, "Failinis my old friend. How I missed you too. I praise you for waiting patiently for me and your loyalty, but now is no time for stories. Yes, I did die, but I have returned from the dead to serve the gods it seems. Now we are off to an apparent war. That is why I have called you. I can't do this without you. Are you ready?"

    Failinis gave a wide smile and happily called, "Anything for Master!" She moved on ahead skipping and following the rest of the heroes. Lugh simply smiled as she skipped, sighing as he reminisced on the good days where the two traveled together. After a few seconds of daydreams, he moved forward in the trail of his excited companion.
     
  15. Merlin

    ‘Pulled from our chosen resting places’. Hmm. Merlin did not remember resting. It was as if she had spent an eternity in darkness. Or maybe that was her chosen resting place after all. The thought of it was interesting but she was not too surprised to think she’d long to spend her eternity drifting along in silence and darkness. She refocused. So if they didn’t serve they would be killed. Such treachery – to use someone’s life against them this way. Not that she wasn’t ready to smite some evil, but being forced to do so way an entirely different monster than doing so because you wished to. ‘The will of the gods’ was a powerful thing. These heroes could all be turned to dust in an instant if they refused, granted no possibility of an afterlife. No hope of peace. Yet if they chose to serve, they would receive wishes. However, she had to agree with the man….dragon… thing? Dragons were great creatures in her time, powerful and dangerous. Somehow this one took the shape of a man which to her meant that he was even more dangerous. She took a small step in the opposite direction, a mere measure of comfort as it was obviously not enough to make any difference. Either way, she agreed with his observation about this deal sounding too good to be true. Wishes, like magic, required balance. Nothing could be done without the world balancing it out somewhere or somehow. She shook her head a little, pushing the thoughts away. Right now, all that mattered was taking the next step and moving on. One could not stand here forever.

    Merlin blinked, startled, when one man started shouting about going to battle and feasts and the like. She cast him a sidelong look that would easily be interpreted as ‘you are crazy’. That was a true interpretation of her feelings. “Robin Hood?” She asked, glancing around. “Who is Robin Hood?” Was he referring to himself? These people were very strange and dressed oddly. Her confusion intensified when a large boar-like beast emerged from the portal. Eyes wide, she took a large step away, watching the creature with some sort of fear and admiration. The size of it alone was awesome, but the stench left something to be desired. Soon, the Robin Hood man and the man with the large pig appeared to be having words? Or rather, the large man was reprimanding the Robin Hood fellow. Merlin pursed her lips into a line, watching the exchange. There would be no point in stepping in on something like that but it was bothersome to see one being trying to out-man another this way. It seemed that this kind of thing would never change, no matter how long the world spun.

    The man whose foot she had stepped on accepted her apology which she was grateful for. She had tried to stay out of his way from then on, but he too shouted something and she stared at him in confusion. It took a few minutes but some sort of weapon slammed into the ground with such force that Merlin jumped and skittered back a few paces. The spear mutated into a human which left her at a loss. Magic? Was this a knight doing magic? Boy had times changed. Perhaps, she had been gone so long that magic was now acceptable? She placed a hand on her chin, tapping a finger on her bottom lip as she thought about it. She looked up to see that many of these strange people were marching onward toward some portal. She supposed she should follow to complete this task.


    Staring at the backs of the other heroes, Merlin let her hand fall, opening her palm to face the ground and muttered something in a language that may not even exist anymore. Nearby, a tree shuddered and bent, small pieces of bark peeling from its trunk. The trunk split open, unrolling like a scroll. From within a long wooden staff was revealed, about four and one half feet tall. The staff fell to the ground with a heavy ‘thump’ sound and the tree returned to its previous state, though lacking a bit of bark. Merlin gave the staff a frown, placing her hands on her hips as she did so. It was supposed to come to her. Such a lackluster reveal. Maybe she just needed time to get her magic flowing again. She paced the few steps it took to reach it and bent down to pick it up, swinging it once before dropping the bottom end on the ground. If one was close enough, they would be able to see a clearish-blue gem wrapped within the fibers of the wood at the top of the staff making it look more bulbous at the top. For the most part though, it was a very simple staff. Before death, she had enchanted it to return to the earth after her passing. She was lucky to be able to pull it back out – the whole thing had really been an attempt she wasn’t sure would succeed. Her mood was brightened by the success and she picked the staff up in her left hand and followed along behind the other heroes, heading into the portal that had been conjured for them.
     
  16. Jeremiah Helsing

    Jeremiah was still recovering from his near second death experience. Everything was moving too fast for him. He focused and mentally sorted his thoughts. He was alive, in a mortal body. He and some others had been summoned by some kind of gods as heroes to do something for them. The hunter took several deep breaths and finally looked up to see who he shared company with. As someone from a more recent time, Jeremiah had the advantage of knowing some of the people here. Robin Hood, he could pick out by the man's manner and bravado. The tales of the famed bandit did not dilute the man's attitude at all. Another individual that Jeremiah easily spotted (in truth a giant would be rather hard to miss) he was able to identify as Saragnayan, the god (or was it demigod) of darkness from Visayan mythology, if the hunter was not mistaken. What a being of darkness was doing among heroes summoned by gods, Jeremiah had no idea but he kept that to himself. The other two he could not identify, a woman and a man with a transforming spear. Not what the hunter was used to but also not the strangest thing he has ever seen.

    Seeing that the group was already moving towards the portal, the hunter made a quick body check. To his surprise, he found a sword sheathed to his side, carved from what seemed to be bone. Upon closer inspection, it was bone, Dragon bone to be exact. He also found a rifle on his back, intricate arcane symbols carved into its barrel. Finally, Jeremiah picked up a black suitcase that laid at his feet and cave a small scoff. If it were indeed gods that summoned him, they also did a good job with supplying him. The suitcase contained many tools which the hunter had used during his career, including blessed weapons, ammunition, and a book. Flipping through the book, Jeremiah found that it was mostly empty except for the first half which contained two fire spells. He casted a look over these pages before returning the book into the suitcase and locked it.

    Content with his provisions for his arrival (but not so much with the explanation), Jeremiah silently followed the group into the portal
     
  17. Achilles

    Achilles was no stranger to threats from the gods. Quite frankly, his own demise resulted from him dismissing the multitude of warnings Apollo had issued. With that said, he wasn't afraid of death. Not in the slightest. You don't fight in the bloodiest war in Ancient History and come out as one of the greatest warriors in that war if you're afraid of dying. However, since he had been so graciously summoned back to the land of the living to do the gods' bidding, he figured he might as well play along and enjoy this fleeting moment while it lasts. In order to do so, he had to grit his teeth for a period of time and follow the orders of another. But that is only within reason. If he adamantly believes an order to be wrong, then not even the gods of Olympus or any other god in this world can make him act.

    "Well, if you put it that way, I can't very well refuse, could I? Though I guess this is okay. I'm itching for a fight anyway after serving thousands of years as a mere guardsman to the Styx. And old man, I never claimed I was the most skilled fighter of all time. I've already accepted the fact that my legend would only come second next to that of Heracles but I'm proud of my accomplishments in life. Though if this Deanta fellow truly is more skilled than I was at my peak, then maybe he could help me whip this lacking mortal body back into shape." Achilles said with an impish grin on his face.

    The archer, who seems to refer to himself as "Robin Hood" decided to give a rousing speech to rile up his fellow companions. Though hose words merely went in one ear and out the other due to Achilles' distaste of archers. The only exceptions were his mentor, Chiron, and Atalanta. He had hoped to see her among the crowd of heroes but alas, it seems she was not chosen to bear this burden with them.

    Afterwards, far stranger things occurred around him such as a giant, foul-smelling boar manifesting all of a sudden and being calmed by the tall dark figure as if it was his pet, one of the other "heroes" who he somehow failed to notice until now sprouting reptilian wings, and a lance falling from the sky as if answering the call of the blonde man wearing armor far different to the one Achilles dons. Though that wasn't the end of it as said spear transformed into a lovely girl afterwards. He wanted to say that he was surprised by all this but Greece is a land of bizarre tales and oddities. The following events just ascertained that other lands have their own peculiar tales and legends.

    "Everyone's showing off, apparently, though that doesn't necessarily mean that I have to follow suit. It'd be more advantageous if the enemy doesn't get a clue regarding my identity before I could stab them in the heart, after all." He thought.

    Instead of summoning his famed chariot to further cement his reputation among his "allies" he merely stretched his hand in the same manner as the blonde warrior and summoned his trusty spear. Though instead of it falling from the sky, it materialized out of thin air into his grip. He then decided to strike a conversation with the blonde knight seeing as among all the heroes that had been summoned, he was by far the only one who had a thing in common with Achilles, that being their weapon of choice.

    "Man, I wish my spear could turn into a cute girl too. Gotta admit that I'm a bit jealous. Guess that's asking for too much though. The name's Achilles, by the way. Second greatest hero of Greece. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." He offered a handshake at Lugh as they were slowly making their way to the portal. If he were indeed to be paired up as allies with these folk, he needed to get to know them first, and he figured who better to befriend first than a fellow spearman?
     
  18. Lugh
    Lugh turned to person greeting him, shaking Achille's hand with a firm grip. "Achilles. The great warrior of the Trojan War. I heard about you. Great and powerful warrior who was granted immunity from the River Styx itself. It is a pleasure to meet you." Lugh gave a warm smile to the Grecian hero. He had remembered watching the great Trojan War occur while he was in Limbo. It was a bloody war that happened for stupid reason, but no doubt the warriors who fought were heroes.

    He continued with his greeting, "The name is Lugh Lámhfhada. Probably haven't heard of me. I was before your time in the land of Ireland." He bowed before the great warrior. Though he was a king, Lugh had respect for the warrior. Achille's troubles were many, and the fact that he endured them all impressed him. He called ahead to Failinis who was skipping on ahead, "Failinis!"

    The girl turned around with a giant smile on her face. "Yes Master!"

    "Come and meet Achilles, the Greek. I'm pretty sure you were at the Battle of Troy yourself," Lugh said gesturing to the Greek.

    "Oh the Troy! I remember that. Wow, saw all of it from a distance, bloody war I tell you. But its really cool to meet you! Call me Nis! It's short for Failinis." the girl said with a beaming smile on her face, hand extended for a shake.
     
  19. Rama



    Reaching out to the Depth's of history a warrior whose time has past and whose time is yet to come !
    Hearing the call of the gods he who has slept in a meditative state for so long awaiting the time of his rebirth is awoken !

    Early feeling the pull on his soul Rama decends into the mortal world the portal glows with an intense light a transcendent soul is being reborn on earth it's power causes the portal to ripple !

    Wearing armor of Divine make and carrying a Divine blade Excalibur a youth looking all of sixteen emerges moving with Grace of a predator and emitting an Aura of royalty
    And eyes that speaks of age old wisdom He speaks with a voice of humble man but sounding of thunder What manner of calamity has befell the world that the cycle of this one's rebirth has been broken !

    Rama's voice carried over the crowd standing there .
     
    #19 chrono, May 21, 2016
    Last edited: May 21, 2016
  20. GM Post

    As the heroes stepped through the portal, they would see nothing but an icy, frozen town. They stood over it on a small frozen hill, and could see hundreds of houses all arranged in neat, straight rows, all around a large circular area in the center, occupied by a large pillar of ice. In the cobbled streets, they would see frozen human corpses, standing erect and shuffling about, all in various states of decay. And also in the streets, one could see a large number of even bigger, frozen corpses, these belonging to something that one could only describe as vaguely human. Possessing scaly, black skin, walking erect on four legs and with glowing red eyes and two large arms terminating in five clawed fingers. The beasts were also moving faster then the rest of the frozen human zombies, and while there were fewer beasts then humans, they still posed quite a threat. From the center of the town came a cry of anguish, and after staring in the direction of the sound, the zombies all started moving towards the town center.

    Deanta

    In the center of the pillar of ice, lay a man, who had begun to stir. The pillar of ice in which he had been encased in was melted around his figure, and now in the center of the pillar he found himself awake, with a small tunnel out of the ice and into the world beyond it.

    The man moved his fingers and his toes, flexing that which had been frozen for thousands of years.

    "I.... cannot.... see..."

    The ice which surrounded his body had not melted from his eyes, as if the gods purposefully wanted to keep him blind.

    "The sky.... I.... I want to see it.... how can I see the sky.... without.... my eyes?"

    The gods had been cruel to him. Without his eyes, he would never see the sky. All at once Deanta found himself hating and cursing the gods who had brought him back into this plane of existence, and in his hatred, let out a cry of anguish, the cry of a hopeless man.
     
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