Iwaku World - The founding of the Crimson Cadre


Warmaster Death

Musical Score: Holy Diver - (Killswitch Engage Cover [Song written and originally performed by Dio])

The tension in the air shattered like the glass of the windows as the cultists began their attack, though even as they broke in the Space Marine leaped over a couch with a bestial roar, the lead pipe sailing out of his hands towards the lead cultist, who smashed it aside with a contemptuous swing of his power pin.

the three bakers raised their pins to strike, but the Space Marine bodily slammed into the Cultist on the right of the formation, grabbing his face and the wrist by which he held his pin as his chest slammed against the smaller built cultist, who struggled even as his body was force backwards and downwards, his head slamming into the floorboards with a sickening crunch.

Rolling forwards WMD felt the searing crackling energy of the other two power pins almost connect with his lower back and he used the momentum of the roll to stand and turned around, swinging the power pin into the path of the next strikes, like lightning the space marine and the bakers exchanged blow after blow, with neither able to gain a discernable advantage.

wmd engages the bakers, killing one and taking his power pin, though he is unable to gain an advantage over the other two.


Hopeful Monster
Tegan was not having a good time.

The two cultists moved as one, and it was all Tegan could do to dance between the attacks and parries of the two power pins. Though they had not managed to land any blows, it was only a matter of time before they got lucky.

The space was too narrow. Any significant uses of her light would catch Kaze in the crossfire, and there was no time to concoct a grand illusion. The only choice was to do this old fashioned way.

Tegan took a deep breath and let the memories come.

The cultist swung his power pin with enough force to take her head from her neck, Tegan ducked low, falling into a full split as the pin sailed over her head. With nothing to slow the pin's momentum, the cultist was moved off balance for a moment. In a flash, Tegan was back on her feet and delivered a sharp side kick to his jaw, sending him reeling.

Tegan turned to her second attacker just in time to receive a vicious jab to her stomach from a gauntlet-clad arm. Shocking pain coursed through her body as the woman was flung back into the wall. The wall paper print scattered from her like frightened fish.

Tegan sank to the floor, coughing and sputtering to regain the lost air as the first cultist recovered and joined the second in approaching her. Their cold eyes watched her shaking form, ready to finish her.


One of the cultists paused for a moment when the floor around him groaned in protest to his weight, before the boards under his right foot split, sending his leg through the floor.

Tegan wasted no time launching at him, intent on taking his head with the burning blades of light that suddenly formed in each hand.

His free partner was quick to parry, and soon the two were tangled in a hurricane of light and pin. After a moment of fury, the two forcefully separated, Tegan on one end of the hall, near the stairs and the cultist next to his now free partner.

His right arm, neatly severed and burned, lay between them.

Tegan sank into a low lunge, her blades flaring, ready for the next attack. Her breathing was deep, her attempt at keeping her heart rate steady, and blood trickled from the corner of her lips.

Summary: Tegan fights the cultists and manages to cut one of their arms off.

Mainstream Hipster

I am what all hipsters fear, what all hipsters are
Kaze was thankful for his weapon. His bowstaff, having quite a long reach, enabling him to parry the heavy blows that the cultists sent his way. However, that was the only thing saving him from being pummeled, and he was being pushed back quite easily. Normally, he would've blown their asses back to kingdom come, but being indoors and in close proximity to his allies disallowed this course of action, at least for the moment.

As Kaze moved up to block an overhead attack from a pin, the other cultist took the opening and stomped his boot into Kaze's stomach, causing his own breath to slam out of him and send him reeling backwards. Odd that a wind mage would have issues breathing, but that's what happens when someone kicks you in your solar plex. Kaze looked around and found that he had ended up in the kitchen, and that the cultists were quickly advancing on him to finish the job.

His heart pounded as he gasped for a single breath to give him the strength to perform his next course of action. Just as the pin from the lead cultist was raised, Kaze got his breath that he wanted and a grim smile formed on his lips. Sending his hands out, his bowstaff having fallen at his side, he sent out a large push of air that took the two cultists flying backwards. In their flight, they collided with their allies that were threatening Tegan, sending them all into a heap in the middle of the room, groaning in pain. Slowly getting up, Kaze grabbed his staff and prepared himself to continue the combat.



A brilliant flash of light rushed out every opening of the room, as Jumi's hand moved, and a length of pure light arced from his staff, and into his open palm. As the energy connected to his hand, a loud thundering wave of noise followed the light in a deafening cry, and around him, Asmodeus, and those still in the room... an orb of raw energy had encased them. Whatever talents the old Doctor had at medicine was instantly dwarfed by this sudden display of raw arcana.

He knew well that they were under attack, but a choice had to be made... above those left in the house, Asmodeus was by far the most vulnerable, and rightfully so... as he hid under the bed. "Fear not, young man... they will not get past this shield." The old man spoke over his shoulder, as he placed his metal mask over his face once more, and continued channeling the light from his staff into the orb that housed them.

Summary: Jumi initiates a spell of defense to repel any would be attackers, and is now channeling his energies directly into said defense.


Տ α ĸ υ r α

Guess they're not friendly. Shoot. Sakura watched the sniper load his next piece of bread and frowned. She considered her options. I can't believe a piece of bread cut off my sleeve... She reached for her boomerang, her fingers clasping around the edge and prepared to yank it out. She could deflect the bread and then--- Suddenly, a light blue surge of magic caught her off guard as a barrier circulated about her. She looked over in surprise to the one responsible, a cat-boy. She was instantly confused as he battered her with questions.

"What's going on? Who are these people, why are they attacking? Where is this-"

She blinked as he seemed to stop for a moment. Totally unexpected out of nowhere, what is going on? Sakura was about to say something when he apologized.

"I'm sorry...My name's Miru, umm...What...is all this?"

Sakura looked at him closely. She had questions to ask him, too, but this wasn't the right time. She moved over to the barrier, pressing her palm against it. It was solid. She blinked. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to protect Asmodeus and the others! And she'd made the mistake of trusting Paorou's minions and coming outside, too! Taking a deep breath, Sakura turned her gaze back at the neko and nodded.

"We're being attacked by the bread cultists of the Mad King Paorou..." She could see the magical energy for the barrier came directly from him so cutting through with her sword wasn't a good idea. Especially since he'd protected her from that ridiculously unbelievable bread sniper. She pulled out her boomerang, holding the edge of the folded wing and swinging her arm in front of her. With the force of her swing, the boomerang clicked open into it's full form. She flipped it into the air and caught from the center hold as the steel spikes latched out on the outer edge below the blade.

"Please call off your barrier! I have to help my friends!"


[Sakura explains the situation to Miru and readies her bataboomerang in it's spiked mode. She asks Miru to call off his barrier so she can help her friends.]



The armless Cultist yelled incoherently, scrambling on the floor and clutching his bloody stump of an arm. Blood gushed everywhere, staining the floor with a crimson slick. Kaze's attack had opened his wound violently, and his still-awake comrade made no effort to console or repair the damage.

The bloodshot eyes of his comrade callously ignored his piteous wailing, and were still locked on to Tegan. He gripped his pin more tightly, and a visible jolt ran through it's length.

Tegan's began to breathe more deeply as her heartbeats increased, due to the stress of combat. Blood trickled from her lips and a drop fell to the floor below. It was then that she noticed the red fluid that slowly began to surround her feet.

In the red puddle, she saw a faint pattern of words and symbols, slowly forming the shape of a bloody footstep. Lacking the deliberateness of the first, another one suddenly appeared, right in front of her feet.

It was too late.

Tegan was violently knocked down by an invisible force. It snarled and hissed, warping the light around itself, like a large humanoid chameleon. Though her assailant was invisible, a red sliver of blood ran through it's body, marking a sharp outline of muscle and wrath.

The other cultist had stopped his wailing. He was drained dry, and his corpse lifelessly slumped unto the floor. His comrade had coldly utilized him in a ritual, and his blood was now an invisible servant of the bread god. Tegan could hear muttering coming from her opponent - some kind of arcane language.

Kaze was not given a chance to relax as the two cultists he had thrown aside were back on his case. They jumped over tables and the rubble, stepping over their dead comrades and screaming litanies of hatred. One cultist reached into his cloak and threw forth two silver knives. Kaze did not flinch, for he had quickly deflected them with a gust of wind.

However, he did not notice the razor thin wire between the two knives, that dug into his wrist. His hand was dragged aside by his own wind. The other cultist quickly took to the air and attempted to tackle him with a suicidal maneuver.

The Warmaster deftly deflected blows with the stolen power pin. Each hit that landed on him sent jolts throughout his body, but he held strong with his unwavering will. When an opening presented itself, he smashed a cultist's skull with the pin, slamming him into a wall. The cultist lifelessly fell to the floor, leaving a trail of blood on the wallpaper.

The space marine then felt a paralyzing jolt run down his arm as a Power Pin found it's mark. His power pin fell out of his grip.

He swiftly ducked and deflected the next attack on impulse, holding back the cultist's blow by gapping his arm. The Cultist did not cease, howling as he grappled the warmaster in hand to hand combat. There was no discernible advantage between the two, except for the fact that the warmaster's other arm was sluggish and unresponsive.

On the second floor, Jumi and Asmodeus were suddenly bathed in a bright light as the roof collapsed on them. The mage's barriers were reacting violently to the innumerable debris and explosions in the room. A single form fell upon them, a bread cultist different from those below.

In his hands, he held two small pistols, connected to the back with two lines. On his face, he had a gasmask, and his baker's cloak was more heavy-set than the others. Asmodeus recognized the symbol on his chest-plate, the insignia of the battle-cooks of the crusades.

A janissary.

"Bread for the bread god." It said in a breathy, raspy voice.

From his two pistols, two cones of flame turned the room into an inferno in an instant.


Sakura and Miru were just getting acquainted, when Soulless' unconscious body was thrown off the roof. The two saw the form of a Bread cultist on the roof, holding two guns, and watching them.

In a flash, he was gone.

And the two felt a breathing at the back of their necks.

"Scones... for the scone throne."

There was the sound of gunfire erupting outside.

Summary: Tegan is knocked down by a lesser daemon of skhone, commanded by her remaining opponent. Kaze continues to fight two cultists, who have disarmed him with a knife trick. WMD wrestles with the last cultist.

Jumi and Asmo's room is engulfed in flames as a janissary with two flamethrowers descends through the broken roof. Miru and Sakura face the second Janissary outside, who immediately teleports behind them and opens fire.

Warmaster Death

Musical Score: Wishmaster - Nightwish

The remaining Bread Cultist delivered a savage knee to the Warmaster's side, grinning as he felt a rib break.

Roaring in pain, WMD twisted his arms, drawing the cultist into a vicious headbutt that cracked the fanatic's skull.

Stooping to pick up two crackling power pins WMD moved to help Kaze and Tegan first, propelling himself over a couch, making the swing that caught the first cultist, the one diving for the magician, even more brutal, making a disgusting wet snapping noise, the wailing /cultist was driven, hard, into the ground, where a blow to the head from WMD's power pin silenced his screaming.

The Warmaster charged forwards as he rose, although the blood slicked floorboards make it hard to gain any speed, he careened past the invisible cult-daemon and slammed shoulder first into the other cultist facing Kaze, smashing his kneecaps in with the power pins as he did so, the cultist crumpling in a heap.

The space marine turned as he heard arcane mumblings and felt a vicious series of blows smack across his chest, leaving bloody welts, WMD growled as he lashed out with the power pins, feeling the weapons slam into flesh and break bones, he continued the assault even as he felt talons slice into his abdomen, the creatures last fleeting attempt to stave off death.

the assailants on the ground floor dealt with, the space marine raced up the stairs, only to be met with a wall of flame, he leapted back as the flames licked the staircase, then threw a power pin with all his might at what seemed to be the point of origin of the flame wall.

he was rewarded with a pained grunt and the flame ceasing for a moment as the Jannissary recovered.

Wasting no time the Warmaster hurled himself through the flames, the large trackpants he wore beginning to smolder as he erupted through the fire and flung himself bodily at the Jannissary, who was just raising his flamers anew.
WMD spun his body and arm in one fluid motion, bringing the power pin slamming down into the Jannissary's guard with bone shattering force, and the Elite cultists weapons were slammed onto, then into his chest, crumpling with a rasping death rattle as the Warmaster turned to the window as he heard gunfire erupt.

Leaning out the window he saw the final cultist, firing two guns, though WMD could not make out who his target was, but that was irrelivant, the space marine drew back and hurled the power pin with all his might, the pin sailing through the air and right past the cultist, who immediately turned and opened fire on the window.

WMD pushed backwards and fell onto his back as bullets perforated the windowsill and the wall around it, but suddenly, the gunfire abruptly stopped, and a cautious WMD leaned out of the window to see the cultist laying face down in the dirt, part of his head missing.

standing behind him were three figures, one in the arms of another, and the third holding a smoking handgun.

Finally the adrenaline that had pushed him through his killing streak faded and the Warmaster felt himself drained of energy, and he lowered himself down to the floor, looking to Asmodeus and Jumi, nodding a silent acknowledgment as consciousness fled.

OOC: WMD goes on a vicious killstreak, killing most of the remaining cultists, and the last cultist is slain by either Miru or Sakure, WMD isn't sure which, before sliding down against a wall and passing out.


The world flickered like a TV with horrible reception. It spun, it made noises that were so far away and yet at the same too close. It hurt the ears of a being that just wanted this existence to end and return to the inner peace he had been without for what felt like several lifetimes. Perhaps it was. Eventually, the noise stopped and all that lay was white static flickering. Soulless's body had been tossed carelessly onto one of the floating rocks, his small body broke bone and he was slow to regenerate, even slower for his already impaired mental state to return. Blood and bone bubbled and soundlessly weaved itself into muscle and skin and skeleton once more and lunges expanded to take in oxygen and flush out the blood from the initial impact. Hopefully he could have peace now. His body seemed to groan and creak as he sat up, eyes glassy and blinking slow. It took a few moments more for him to regain consciousness, even though his body was already read to go.

Inside, a small fire burned and raged, hotter than red iron and burning with more pain than any injury. It hurt, it burned, and it wouldn't go away. The feeling was agitating, it was tha simple anger of a spirit who had lost everything important to him and now was about to lose even his chance to recover. Bitter and enraged, Saneless forgot the fact he was disconnected and forgot that his anger would only be a pain from an unknown source to his other half. He forced the body upwards awkwardly, pushing out his other with brute force and kicking him into the darkness of his burning fire. Limbs creaked heavily as he got up and forced himself to climb the stones back to his ruined, destroyed house that smelled of death and blood. Blind, he tripped over the fallen body of a cultist. He was hungry and had to feed. The child of insanity licked his lips, eyeing at the body below him and tempted to cannibalize. Desperate times called for desperate measures after all. However, he didn't and instead went off to the kitchens, where some food prepared by Sakura before they were all interrupted still lay. He took some food and ate, a snarl fresh on his lips as he did so and recovered. Feeling much better now, he approached the stairs and back to the room where the ex-angel and his little entourage stood.

"You've all caused enough trouble." He growled, blindly stumbling and kneeling downards, half-healed scrapes and open wounds of flesh bleeding from his body and onto the floor where blood twitched but did not move. "Once the angel bastard is good enough to get up, leave. All of you." He wheezed softly, looking up at them all. One of their silver eyes were dulled, the other almost glistening with hatred for them all, blaming them all with bitter rage for a life he had once lived full of joy, now lost in an armageddon of emotions and now those who had caused it continued to live and taunt him with their existences, even as he was too weak to force them out. So separated was he from his charge, he could not even align their eyes together anymore. The silver eyes closed, he fell on his side and took some much needed rest. Perhaps some day he would forgive them all, forgive the world. Perhaps not. Perhaps never.

[Saneless blames Asmo and everyone else for the attack and goes to take a nap.]


Original poster
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
The Warmaster had collapsed. Soulless had collapsed. The old doctor was tending to them now, whilst Kaze and Tegan came back into the room now bruised and bloodied from the fight. He could hear Tegan calling through the window to people outside - Sakura's voice sounding back. But the rest was the darkness beneath the bed... the throbbing pain in his ribs and back... the residue of the Baker's fire that smouldered on the wallpaper.

With a weak and piteous cry, Asmodeus recoiled as the floor beneath him swirled like mud. He tried to lift his weight, tears falling as he begged with half-formed words. The floorboards warped and the single crimson eye bloomed, opening like a cankerous sore to glare at him. He could not move... he could not call for help. The eye held him like a predator's claw, oblivious to his tears.

"I remember you."

"Please... please don't..."

"Asmodeus. You tried to replace me."

"No... no, it wasn't me. That wasn't... please!"

"The Cycle stirs. She is here."

"I don't understand. Paorou! Don't hurt us! Please stop!"

"You've felt it too. We are linked. The equation crossed us as it tried to balance. Behold."

"No! Paorou!"


Red tendrils shot from around the eye and snaked through the angel's hair, penetrating earholes and nostrils, slipping down his throat. Asmodeus cried out even as he was choked... even as his head was pulled against the eye, his flesh fusing with the bloody protrusion beneath him. He thrashed and wailed as visions poured into his mind.


Suddenly there was light and breeze. With a single sweep Kaze had thrown the bed aside and found Asmodeus. The wind mage stooped and placed a hand on his writhing master, turning him over. Asmodeus fell onto his back, his hands coming away from his face. The floorboards beneath him were plain wood again.

"Easy," Kaze said, trying to calm the man.

For a moment Asmodeus's eyes flashed crimson... and then he joined Soulless and the Warmaster in unconsciousness.

[SUMMARY: Paorou comes further into the house, beginning to recognise the heroes. He bestows on Asmodeus a warning about Diana.]


Hopeful Monster
Tegan gently swiped the blood away from her lips with her thumb as she called out to Sakura, secretly relieved that the young girl was unhurt. It was a strange, protective feeling that Tegan had experienced many times since being bound in a mortal body; that even now, its origin and meaning was a mystery. She was about to question the presence of the new boy who stood next to her, when an anguished cry from behind her snared her attention.

Tegan whirled around just as the heavy bed bumped into the wall, crushing some of the slower floral prints on the wall paper. As quick as Asmodeus' cries had begun, they ended just as quickly, leaving her Kaze and Jumi-who was busy checking on the health of their unconcious allies-alone in the quiet room.

Except they weren't alone.

Asmodeus had spoken a name between his screams.

"Paorou," she said quietly, casting her eyes about the room, looking beyond her comrades, searching. "It's Paorou, he's here."

Tegan realized her mistake as soon as the words had left her mouth. They were in Insanity, his realm.

He had always been here.


It had been a while, a few days in reality, or whatever was close enough to reality. Outside the skies were any number of colors and times of day, sometimes the skies darker than night and sometimes brighter than day, and yet others colors that did not exist in the day-night frame. The puppets of an ever spinning play wandered this little house at the edge of a world, falling into a rhythm of recovery. The girl with a smile cheered those up who needed it most, doing what she could to continue the small flame of hope within all of them. The wielder of wind and the man of battles worked on constructing the building they chose to call home, fortifying it with whatever they could to defend against any future attacks. A newcomer sought rest and refuge, filled in quickly by a woman who knew of much of the goings on. The doctor would stay in the chambers with his patient, working on recovery for all and and especially one. A perfect play began to show as the puppets across the stage like clockwork.

A child, however, seemed to stay away from the rest of his fellow puppets, alone on one side of the stage that was their building. One dull silver eye drooped sadly, the other was shiny but just as faraway as he stared up into the skies on this particular night. Much had happened, the people had recovered, and had begun to hear the whispers of a stranger in his head. Was this the effect of Insanity? No, it couldn't be. He had lived here for generations, if it was from Insanity it would've long happened. Then who was this voice? Did it have something to do with... something... his mind grew fuzzy, as if someone had ripped them out and left only the memory of a memory there. Something... something very very important he should not forget. The voice behind everything, it was hard to hear, sometimes he only heard a word or two...

Soulless shook of these emotions and, still ignorant of his other half, looked over his body. Over the past days he had feasted on whatever food was in the fridge, largely raiding it and even taking a bite out of a cultist or two when he could sneak it and not get caught. Although he was lectured and yelled at for his greed, his body only desired more, to store up what massive amounts of resources had been lost and so he continued to eat. His body was healthy enough to walk around without problem, though that strange condition that prevented him from dexterity and walking still plagued him. He had grown accustomed to using the eyepatch he found a while ago, so his unusable eye was covered, and his usable one now looked up to the skies of Insanity, watching ribbons of color fly before turning away and leaping up the stairs of his home.

Somewhere outside, Kaze and the Warmaster were working away, the wind mage using his magic to lift and force things together, the warmaster using his strength to carry, hold, and hammer. Noises of banging and construction echoed down the halls and the broken flower wallpapers shivered with every vibration. Somewhere inside, words were exchanged, who were talking now? He could not discern them from the other noise... and that whisper in the background... and a slowly growing feeling of dead that he had felt somewhere inside, like poison. Something was wrong, but what? He.. he couldn't quite put his fingers on it... and did not think on it long as he carefully nuzzled open the door to the ex-angel's room. Jumi was quite the doctor, for the ex-angel looked as if he was healing relatively nicely. At least, his new wounds were all stitched up now. He gave a smile and a nod to the both of them, before going to what was once Asmodeus's paints. However, he took it upon himself to draw a few things to pass the time.

He used to draw a lot, with his own blood, to pass time in the Nerf Tower of which he stayed for nearly two decades. Now the child of Insanity habitually went to paint again, fingers dipping in color and gently petting the canvas with color. Arms were used more like a paint-mixer than anything else, and soon he was covered in the stuff, but he didn't mind. Once done with one canvas, he set it aside, a mass of color, and started on a new one.

[A few days later, Kaze and WMD are making the house a fortress, Jumi helps Asmo recover, Soulless feels isolated, Sakura tries to keep morale up, Tegan fills Miru in. Soulless wanders up to Asmo's room and plays with paints.]
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Captain Nic

Bridge, Imperial Battleship Byzantion
25,000 feet above Castle Nerf

Most Teknikans were still appalled at the shattering of Insanity's Mirror - not only was this something that the Empire could not accomplish on its own, but the Mirror could've been used as a natural defense. With the Elder invasion stalled, however, there was no need for such great preparation.

A base was planned to be established just outside the perimeter of Nerf Castle, but it was delayed by the Hero's arrival. The transport fleets had just landed on the mountains and hills surrounding the broken terrain around the castle, and set up landing and docking points for any warship that decided to settle. Pre-fabricated structural members were hauled out from the shuttles and used to quickly construct command centers. With the fanfares taking place all across the continent, all Teknikan soldiers were encouraged to stay out of it until the Hero could be dealt with. Some Imperial personnel were anxious, however, and made for Iwaku City by shuttle to see the entire fiasco for themselves.

"One of these natives better have an explanation of what in the nine-layered abyss this is all about. They come in saving us all from the apocalypse, and they have the common courtesy to crash one of our ships! Bloody hell. I really hope that woman knows what she's doing, 'cause that was a really sloppy entrance." The Marshal exclaimed as he sat on his command chair and watched the local news on a holo-screen. Nic and a handful of Marines sat beside him, and other crewmen were watching as well.

Nic clucked his lips and looked down upon his wristwatch. "Welcome to Iwaku, Marshal. That's exactly how a lot of things go on around here. Magical place, I tell you." A Marine forcibly resisted his chuckle.

The Marshal quickly and angrily stood from his seat and grimaced. "What the shit. Bloody good timing," he yelled. Argyle then turned to face the still seated Captain. "I know what you mean by 'magical,' Captain, and I'll be damned if I don't have the balls to deal with it. If things go haywire again, I'll let them know we've got balls of steel."

Nic raised an eyebrow, to which the Marshal continued, "Captain Nic."

"Yessir." Nic stood and saluted the Marshal.

Argyle cleared his throat. "In accordance with your statement earlier, Captain, I'm assigning you to a ground patrol. With all the fun stuff going on right now, something might go... ballistic." The Marshal hands Nic a small pill-shaped device with a holo-screen displaying a map of his patrol rotation zones - all of them being of considerable distance from Nerf Castle. He resumes, "We've handled transfer of your personal unit as well, with a little note from your previous commander not to get it the hell scratched again. Be prepared for anything, as always, Captain."

"Of course, sir. Of course." Nic closed the holo-screen and gripped the small device tightly in his hands as he walked towards the exit.


2 Hours Later

A trio of the giant Teknikan tanks hovered upon Insanity's twisted landscape, which still bore the scars of the time when the Mirror was still active, and the land itself was alive. All three vehicles propelled forward in a delta formation, with Nic's vehicle in the lead.

One of the rear guard units opened communications.

"Seems like the Marshal called you out back there, Captain. You think?" One of the wingmen asked with a high, nasal tone.

Nic snarled. "I got that feeling, too. Besides, he's new here. Still got to see what he's got when dealing with the locals." He steadily drove his vehicle forward, alternating between power and brakes. "Anyways, just drive carefully; the ground's still kinda crazy. Stay at a safe altitude above ground. Look at those outcroppings, goddamn."

"Yes, Captain, I've got this handled." The other wingman responded.

All three vehicles rose three more meters above the uneven ground, and continued their trek across Insanity. Over the vast horizon, Nic could see a small structure standing atop what looks like a very thin and unstable pillar of rock...

[SUMMARY: The Teknikans begin activity anew on Iwaku, and watch the arrival of Diana. Marshal Taft throws a fit, and, in an attempt to contain his anger, sends Nic on patrol.]


Original poster
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
Across the room he fixed his cyan eyes and saw what no one else could see.


"Did you want it to be Coffee?" asked the figure at the threshold of shadow.

Asmodeus's smile was sad, his eyes downcasting before setting once more upon the man at the foot of the bed. "No. At the end, no... I don't."

"I'm sure the symbolism does not escape you," spoke a second ghost who peeled from the darkness and stood beside the first. "We were ever the hope and the despair of Iwaku."

"Though I'm not sure who was which," said the first. Asmodeus laughed a little as he looked at Palonis and JackShade. The two men, even now, were not as he had known them - the ninja Necromantic grey and the angel blackened from fire. The first had died beside him in the Confluence blast, and the second he had burned alive in his messianic rage. His victims, his tutors, his archetypal horrors come to haunt him.

"It shouldn't be like this... the doctor is healing me. We killed the bakers. Everything's fine now. It's..."

"A plot hole?" Palonis asked, raising an eyebrow as he sat at the edge of the bed and folded wisened arms.

"You'll find a wonder in it, Asmodeus - I assure you," JackShade added as he remained standing. "Here you are, turned human, delivered from villainy and borne upon the wave of a new and fascinating arc, only to.... stop."

Asmodeus's head rolled back on the pillow, his eyes cracked by tears, and a singular sob heaved in his chest. "I can't..."

"I know," JackShade's eyes watched him from behind his sunglasses. "Even now you seek the pattern, the meaning - the place in which to slot this crucifying moment. But you must understand, Asmodeus, that there is no archetype in this - no stage nor entendre."

"And that's not so bad a thing," remarked Palonis, glancing over his shoulder at the weeping man. There was a sense that the ninja didn't want to be here, even in this vision. "You think because there's no meaning that there's no redemption - but you see, that's always been your problem."

"The heart's contempt of vagaries," JackShade whispered.

"Whatever," said Palonis. "The point is, you have to go, and that's all there is to it. It's everything and nothing."

Asmodeus whimpered, "They need me... Without me, everything will... break. Iwaku will break..."

"Iwaku doesn't have the option of breaking. Without you, there'll be someone else. They won't be the same, but they'll be no more and no less valuable."

"Iwaku is a story defined in the hearts of its people. Your own heart will no longer be in it, but you should not fear the crashing of the pages. As all great stories that follow the tutelage of life, it is impossible for us to map.... to chart as you have tried to chart... to structure and prophecise and assert the very motion of the spheres. What will come shall be alien and irrevocable, and the rest is silence."

The tears streamed from Asmodeus's face, his body jerking on the bed in the throes of grief. Hands were pressing at him... Jumi and Soulless shaking him in the real world... but they were distant now. "What did it all mean...?" he wailed, even as his voice gave out. "Gabriel bringing me here... defeating Razilin... the Corporation... the War... the genocides.. the Legacy... the Knights... Shifter Town... the Confluence Bomb... mortality..."

Palonis rose again, placing ethereal hands where Jumi's physical ones were and pinning Asmodeus to the bed. "There's no answers. The dichotomy is naieve."

Asmodeus bucked against him, yelling out. "WHY? WHY DID I SEE THESE THINGS? WHY DID I DO ALL THIS? IT HAD TO HAVE MEANT SOMETHING!!!"

"Each truth is your own and no one else's," JackShade answered as he circled the bed and drew up on the other side. "You have hijacked us for too long, Asmodeus. We do not think as you think, nor see the golden cities that you have made for us. Your terror that an idea might perish alone, or that a word might go unread - it is not our terror, nor our burden to carry. When last you died Coffee said that he was always watching. Well I will not indulge you so."

He leant down as Asmodeus wept, lips close to his ear. "You will be forgotten, and the Cycle will turn, and we shall speak no more of Heroes. Now comes the age beyond Asmodeus and beyond the golden times of Gabriel and the Knights of Old. You shall face your terror and see that it is not a thing to be feared. You shall be the idea extinguished and the word unread, and from that end you will draw no grand despair. The note shall play... and you shall not think it discordant. For there are ever greater things than our own conceptions and the passions bred therein."

In the real world, Asmodeus's pale hand came around another's. Warmaster Death had rushed in from the outside as he heard Jumi and Soulless shouting, and now he gripped his old master's hand, feeling the last of its warmth. Asmodeus could not see him, but as he squeezed there was acknowledgment - of the honour and brotherhood that only WMD had shared with Asmodeus. A loyalty that had never faltered... a humility that had endured. The Warmaster would be with him... at the end... by his side.

In Asmodeus's dreams, Palonis drew back into shadows. "You've drawn this out too long. Enough now."

"I want to stay..." Asmodeus whimpered. "I love them... I love them all and I never told them..."

"That's life and death, my friend," Palonis answered, and was gone.

"What about Diana? She's causing the bleeds... and...and..."

"There's nothing more you can do," JackShade whispered, placing a kiss upon Asmodeus's forehead. "All things will fall to the others, for better, worse or stranger."

"I don't want to die... please... This isn't right!"

JackShade smoothed away Asmodeus's golden hair and placed their foreheads together. "And so, at last, the real story has taken you."

He slipped away, a last whisper cutting the space between them. "Goodbye Father."

And with that, in the arms of the Warmaster, Asmodeus reached the end of his journey and passed away from this world.


Warmaster Death


Musical Score: The Impossible Dream - Richard Kiley

Tears welled in the Warmaster's eyes and an ever deepening sorrow spread fro his chest as he brought the cool body of Asmodeus into a tight embrace, the tears now streaming down his cheeks
"My Lord, my mentor, my friend" he whispered, before slowly lowering Asmodeus Back onto the bed, a hand moving to close the former Angel's eyes for the last time.

The Warmaster sank to his knees beside the bed, and clasped his hands together as he closed his eyes and began to pray, commending The soul of Asmodeus to the side of the Emperor

when he opened his eyes, he looked once more to Asmodeus, his large hands enveloping one of his former master
"Where there is uncertainty, I shall bring light, Where there is doubt, I shall sow faith, Where there is shame, I shall point atonement, Where there is rage, I shall show its course, My word in the soul shall be as my bolter in the field, In your name My Friend, in your honor" he said gently, before turning to the others
"He Deserves a better Burial than a simple hole in Insanity, i must make contact with the Barship, there he shall rest until such time as his tomb is ready" he declared, looking around for a radio with which to make the call.



Song of the Heaven's Tragic Love - TAMusic

Soulless was immediately by the man's side once more, as soon as Jumi had motioned something going wrong. But what? His small and paint-covered hands gripped onto the arm of the ex-angel, eye peering over with a curiosity and worry that echoed across the room. His mouth opened as if to shout, but he recognized the glazed-over look of the almost-dead, and did not speak. He had been there multiple times, a not-so-frightening meander between the border of the living and the dead, where a soul wondered curiously if it was his time to go, if he should go, and had he a choice in the matter. He had been there, many times, in fights where his blood ran out of him and left his mind to wander that border once more. If from his many journeys there he learned one thing-

Asmodeus would go alone.

And so words were useless. The ex-angel was beyond touch, sound, this realm of reality even. Those eyes opened, but did not see what he was leaving behind. He backed away then, one hand gently ran down the human's forearm, but he knew it would not serve his friend any comfort. Asmodeus would die alone, surrounded by people who would mourn his passing and he would not be around to see. Did the once-angel understand it all, the impact he was leaving behind? The body, now just am empty shell as the soul lifted to depart, let out one exhale. It was soft, barely felt in the still air in the chaos of the moment. it would barely be felt still if it was breathed even against flesh, and yet still held the same intimacy of a lover, perhaps even moreso considering who breathed it. All this child of Insanity could do was watch, the last cord between him and his past severed. He remembered that day, when the man gripped his cheeks hard and they stared at one another as he whispered. Do you remember? Did the embodiment of confluence remember now? Was this Child of Insanity alone now, isolated by his own memories of a past forgotten by most?

No one could tell. Soulless himself could not know where the man had gone, despite his many meets with death. Sometimes, he saw it, glimmering, and he would reach out to touch... but he had always lived, unable to break the last barrier and truly die and at last rest along with the Mad King he once loved, and now, too, the ex-angel that brought him hope and hopelssness all the same. He took the death quietly, to cry out would not matter now. Asmodeus was too far away for any creature of the living to follow. No amount of loyalty, no accumulation of pain, no imaginable amount of healing arts could change the inevitable. The Cycle took, and perhaps, one day, would give back. For now, the bite of the loss weighed heavier than Iwaku itself upon the shoulders of all who saw Asmodeus as he was in this moment.

Yet, despite the heaviness of the sadness, the mourning of his passing was expressed only in the lightest of touches, the smallest of words, and the gentlest of tears. It was not the blaze of glory most would imagine fitting, yet it fit all the same. Asmodeus, a life charred to the smallest of embers, was snuffed out quietly, in a small room, of an unnoticeable house, on the outskirts of an uncharted land.

[Soulless begins to panic, then realizes the hopelessness of trying to comfort/talk to/communicate with Asmo on his deathbed and pulls away.]
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Warmaster Death


At first, the Fighters and bombers of the Barship's escort flew over the house, causing it to shake, then, the Refitted Oberon Class Battleship came over the mountains, its massive form shuddering as it neared the ground, flaps extended and frontal retrorockets firing.

Massive landing struts, each one at least twice the size of soulless' house had already extended, and as the Barship pressed itself into the rough terrain of insanity, its massive Rear engines finally ceased making their apocalyptic noise.

As this occured, a massive lower portion of the cargo bay shuddered and began to descend, a detachment of the best men and woman aboard the barship, in full Parade uniform stood to attention on the decking of the massive elevator, chief among them the members of Barship Command and the Crimson thunder First company, led by the ARC veteran Sergeant Horsham.

it was the Terminators who moved first though they lacked the massive and encumbering armor that gave them their name.

WMD strode out to meet them, and after a few brief words they moved inside.
AS the last of the terminators entered the house, the rest of the platforms occupants began to march off the platform, creating a corridor between the Barship and Soulless' house.

as they did so, lifter craft ferried even more, if less prestigious personnel to the surface, where they too marched into position.

All told, it took three hours to complete the deployment, at the end of which several thousand men, women, space marines and techpreists lined the half a kilometer path to the ramp.

At this, Barship command stepped forwards, and from the door came the Terminator Squad and WMD, as pallbearers, carrying the body of Asmodeus inside an ornate silver and gold wrought coffin, and they began the procession to the Barship cargo lift, the Soldiers on either side saluting as Asmodeus passed them.

At the end of the Procession, when the coffin and Barship command had reached the elevator the solders either returned to their dropships or marched into place around the pallbearers and command, whereupon the elevator began an ascent back into the barship.

this time the process took another three hours, although by the one hour mark, Asmodeus and his coffin, now sealed, had been placed one of the few Cryo-stasis pods aboard the barship, where he would remain until there was time to properly bury the former Angel.

The Barship lands near soulless' house, and a gigantic funeral procession disembarks and takes positions, before WMD and some select veterans (wearing cerimonial uniforms rather than armor) carry Asmodeus to the Barship, where he is intered in a cryo stasis unit until such time as he can be properly buried.

Mainstream Hipster

I am what all hipsters fear, what all hipsters are
Kaze felt nothing. His body was numb and his mind had slowed to a thick crawl. His appearance was that of someone stunned, his eyes wide with the shock that Asmodeous had died. Asmo, who had lived through so much for so long, had finally breathed his last. Asmo, whom Kaze had chosen to be his mentor in order that he could properly defend the history that Asmo had helped shape, was no longer living. Asmo, the angel who had gone berserk, believing a lie that ended up costing him his life. Asmo, the lone true follower of the Cycle...

Kaze knew that he should feel sorrow, even though his time spent with Asmo had been brief, but to his disdain he felt none. He couldn't feel anything, an emptiness echoing throughout his being that, for the moment, refused to be filled. He was alone, despite being surrounded by allies. Even during the funeral procession that ended up taking a majority of their day, Kaze spoke to no one with the exception of mere greetings and the confirmation of tasks done. Asmo had left him to be The Herald, however Kaze was lost as to how to achieve something as grand as that role.

Kaze had been a simple historian and now he found himself thrust into a world where it seemed everyone knew how to do their job but him. He needed a guide in this dark tunnel that was his future, but he had just lost the only one that he had. Kaze tried to think of someone who could fill the shoes of Asmo, but alas, there was no one that at the moment could fill those massive shoes for him.

As Asmo's coffin was laid into the Cyrostasis unit, the hissing of the cold air as it sealed shut, the funeral procession was finally over and people began to finally go back to their normal duties. Kaze stayed behind, looking through the glass panel at Asmo's quiet face, oddly peaceful despite his grief-stricken last hours. Death was the ultimate comforter, able to soothe the greatest of pains at the highest of costs. Asmo was finally free of the disturbing world of being a mortal, being human. As Kaze looked as his face, his forehead pressed against the frigid window, a few tears silently slid down his cheeks, the most amount of sadness that would come forth, the rest of his emotions sealed in a tight box somewhere within his conscious, refusing to be opened, keeping all the painful emotions inside for a later date, potentially never.

[Kaze, now without his mentor in Asmo, feels lost and confused and devoid of most all emotion. He sheds a few tears for the man at the cyrostasis unit, but is able to do no more to mourn for him]


Soulless looked around a moment, at the whole procession. He shook his head, he didn't understand such decorations for the dead.

But, he touched his chest for a moment, feeling that twinge of wrong that was different from the feeling of the ex-angel's departure. His silver eye glanced out, somewhere far in the distance. There. Something was wrong over there. He glanced in another, just as distant direction. There too. It was as if he could feel the rifts, opening up, like Iwaku's blood spilling forth and he could sense it. What does a lack of blood do for the spirit? The lack of the ability to support itself. His eye narrowed at the realization, but he kept silent about it.. for now. He had a feeling that it was something Asmodeus sensed as well, perhaps it was something he sensed a long time before. Maybe the knowledge drove him to his madness. Yes... Asmodeus had always been driven by the future, by whatever feelings he got about him where things are wrong and right.

Perhaps it was because he shared blood with the man that he could feel it too. Perhaps it was because he's lived so damn long. Perhaps, even, it was because he saw Iwaku bleeding underneath him so long ago. Regardless, he understood that things in Iwaku were not as right as it seemed. Asmodeus was dead, the Hero was here, and yet the Hero would not save them from Iwaku's demise... if the bleeding ruptures could not be stemmed, then the land and the world itself would slowly die. He would, perhaps, inform people in a while. For now, his head hurt from all the thinking! The child of insanity didn't know how the adults around him managed to think so hard without their heads exploding.

He looked at Asmodeus's body being sent away, and frowned a moment in loss. If they were going to do this procession thing, it would've at least been kinder to give him some of the earth he struggled so much for. Sighing a moment in thought, he turned away and took a little walk (or rather, crawl) out if his home, scanning the shattered wall and the impact of the confluence bomb. There, he found scattered feathers, remains of the man Asmodeus once was. He took a few feathers, and stuffed it in his pockets for memory. It was, after all, all he had left. In cold understanding typical of a person far beyond his apparent age, Soulless remained absolutely mute as he shuffled back into his home and waited to see if he could have an opportunity to speak.

[Soulless can sense the dimensional rifts. During the ceremony, he walks out of his house and finds a few feathers on the ground. He pockets them, and returns to see if he can talk about what he can sense.]

Childish Grumpino

all things are nothing to me



[size=-1]DEATH HAS A SMELL.[/size]





[size=+1]WHICH W​
AS IT?[/size]



[size=+2]WHICH WA​
S IT?![/size]​


[size=+3]WHICH WAS



[size=+4]WHICH WAS I​






...I rise.

Grumpy makes his return. He's also a total nutjob due to History breaking.


Տ α ĸ υ r α

By the beside, quietly staring.
The world was crumbling before her eyes, but she could feel nothing.
Colored pencils scattered the ground around where she sat. In her lap, propped onto a tattered old book was a small sheet of paper she had been coloring on. 'Get Well Soon Asmodeus-sama!' read bright, bold letters. She had been coloring and humming to herself, excited at the prospect of presenting her little project to the tired angel once he awoke.
But, she realized, with a bitter taste in her mouth, it was too late now.
She rose to stand, the rest of the pencils, the book, and the paper falling to the ground. The small card was crushed under the weight of the book as she rushed to stand beside the Warmaster. She was stuck in this reverie, she couldn't feel the people around her anymore.

Was she breathing? Was this all a dream?
She wasn't even sure anymore. She fell forward, her knees colliding with the floor as put her palms against the edge of the bed and buried her face in the sheets. "Asmodeus-sama..." the name slipped from her lips disbelievingly. The Warmaster's prayer echoed in her ears.

She was crying now, tears spilling down her cheeks, soaking the sheets, shoulders shaking violently with each sob. She grasped the sheets tighter, clenching her fists and shaking her head. She couldn't believe. Why was everyone believing it? How could he be gone? After all he had done and after all they had gone through, how could...how could he be gone?

"He can't..." she sobbed, "He can't be gone..."

With each sob, Sakura felt herself slipping away. First her brother, then Jack, and now Asmodeus.

Were they all going to leave her by herself?


[Sakura, crying into the sheets by the bedside, cannot accept his death. ]