RuneScape Forum Archive | Aeternum Ascended

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

There were flashes of heat and light coming from seemingly random directions when my vision began to flicker back. I was being carried by Takkor, my head and arms rested on his chest, my legs flung across his shoulder. A subtle ringing still lingered about in my ears, and a stabbing ache pulsated from the back of my head. I brought my hand to feel the afflicted spot, and was hardly surprised to find blood. The taste of it was in my mouth as well, probably from biting my tongue upon impact. As my senses began to return, I made it a point to search for other areas on my body that suffered some type of damage. My body generally ached about, but there was a particularly throbbing pain that emerged from the area directly above my knee cap. Something was loose, something had been moved or misplaced or torn.

“Takkor,” I began, “Takkor, put me down,” I muttered softly under my breath, still lacking energy to speak aloud, patting him with my hand repeatedly to alert him.

“You are gravely hurt Frederick, I must find a safe area to tend to your wounds."

"I can…feel…something. My leg.”

He continued to walk forward with his stone face, but he turned to me, his black eyes round and full of purpose. “A piece of shrapnel has pierced your leg, Frederick. I must remove it at once.”

I glanced up at the Capitol—the gate was breached, and appeared as if it had been so for some time. Ravaged, burning vehicles lay abandoned or destroyed across the streets leading up to the front gate. I could make out tire marks on the streets, my eyes tracing its path up to an old bakery where a troop transporter had crashed into. There were empty faces hung out of the rubble like old meat left to dry. Bodies were strewn across the ground as if a gigantic child had spilled his toys and bothered not to pick them up—and now here they were, broken and torn on the streets, the occasional limb misplaced, or a torso, or a head.

22-Jul-2015 08:26:30 - Last edited on 17-Aug-2015 01:22:50 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“Here—Frederick. This is the wealthy clinic—they are bound to have supplies.” We came up upon a humble street building with two floors—it was one of the nicer ones, due to its proximity to the Capitol, and despite it being partially torched on its front and back, with the windows broken in, it looked far nicer than the clinics from the slums.

Takkor opened the front door, and was met with a wave of debris that spilled at his feet. The entire second floor had collapsed on the first—stone and wood were cracked and bent atop each other, with miscellaneous objects fluttering about. Bodies of tattered soldiers and fleeing citizens lay scattered throughout the mound of wreckage.

“Stay here, Frederick," he said, placing me down against the wall just outside the clinic. I had a moment to face my wound; a chunk of metal from the Goliath, about four inches tall. The point in which it had penetrated was still fresh—fresh red still oozing from the tear of skin and tissue, with dried maroon crusted on my leg hairs. It was painful, no doubt, yet I was entranced and withdrawn into something beyond the physical, something peculiar about the atmosphere, that helped ease the experience of agony. The storm had reduced to a light shower, the rapid lightning now just an occasional modest flicker in the distance. It gave clearance for the Wasps to hover through the sky; their propellers could be herd as faint wisps of mechanical wind as they passed above. I looked about the street, towards the Capitol, which sat 200 yards ahead. The single bronze colored dome, a symbol of the dynasties of the old, was partially caved in, smoke billowing out of a dancing fire. Of the two mighty towers that stood on the outside of the Capitol building, each standing two hundred and fifty meters, one had a significant portion blown away, and the rubble had crashed down upon the main body of the entire structure.

22-Jul-2015 08:26:30 - Last edited on 17-Aug-2015 01:27:44 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

I could make out little black and brown silhouettes of bodies scattered across the grand stone footsteps, lying face down, unresponsive, their weapons beside them. Troop transporters seemed to have circled the entire Capitol court yard, a few set ablaze, but most idol, awaiting their masters to return from the slaughter. Units of the Daunmau(c)h fired on the main building in light, unharmonious bursts. It appeared as though the majority of the fighting outside had already taken place—the final kills and reassurances were being confirmed inside the throne room, where Franz Gournhelm, Son of Axel Gournhelm, Lord of the Greyhol*, was to be concluded.

The rain began to pick up slightly as Takkor returned from his scavenge with a gauze material, a bolt of cloth, and a bottle of antibiotic ointment. The flow of water came past us, for the street declined as it went away from the Capitol. The rainwater was tinted a light ruby, and it took me short time to realize as to why.

“You will feel a sting, Frederick.”

“Tear me a piece,” I said, and he removed a chunk of cloth to bite down on.

Takkor opened the bottle and poured a clear liquid onto my wound. The afflicted area
sizzled and foamed into red and white spumes as the antibiotic fused with microbes that had taken refuge in my wound. I let out a disgruntled wince, sinking my teeth into the cloth as the callous slash of exposed flesh burned through my leg. He analyzed the wound carefully, his lips swelling outward and his brow rigid, as if he was make some estimation.

“It is lodged deeply in your leg; I believe it has hit your femur. Yes, it certainly has.”

He glanced over at me, and then at the shrapnel. He nodded at me in preparation.
There was an abrupt war cry echoing from the Capitol. The storm rehearsed itself once more—the lightning frequency aggrandized, the thunder once more a cannonade of deep bellows.

22-Jul-2015 08:56:52 - Last edited on 19-Aug-2015 20:08:46 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Disorientated from the emitting pain on my wound, I still managed to glance over, thinning my eyes to make out the events. On the grand staircase, I could see black suited birds of liberty gathering, their armaments held high and fulfilled. Emerging from the massive iron doors of the royal building came Javok, his henchmen, and a distressed Lord of the Greyholm being dragged by his collar, sluggish and drained, his hands grabbing at his hair.
Javok stood colossal, unabridged and expressionless. I did not need to be close to be sure of this—his face was a constant, unchanging stone of force and will. The Lord was on his knees, facing the growing blood crying mass; The Raven of Emancipation grasped his hair and pulled his head back, revealing Gournhelm's fat, royal neck.

The lifeblood of the tyrant spewed like hot fire across the stone, his body dropping into a bath to last for eternity, and the injuries of yesterday vanishing in the wail of the wind. The shrapnel was removed, and my tolerance with it—I was a wolf, howling out of the consuming ocean of pain that drowned me, unchained in my call for triumph and defined by my natural recoil of anguish. I screamed through the cloth, my teeth and gums bleeding into it while saliva poured through, my head drawn back to the skies, the commanding hails of victorious men doused in pride in the distance yelling with me and without me, the thunder chanting with us in one synchronized orchestra; a cluster of lightning appeared to assemble on the highest point of The Tower of Twisting Skies, striking it repetitively and with increasing vigor. The rain fell hard, and a raven danced about in the air, cawing all the way.

~`~`~`~`~`~

22-Jul-2015 08:56:52 - Last edited on 18-Aug-2015 23:07:14 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Chapter 4: Breaker

“You plan to cut down an enemy with such a flimsy tool? You’d be better off cutting bread, and even that is generous.”

The young girl of sapphire let out a disgruntled moan, “is it your agenda to irritate me in my attempts at practicing? You fear I may beat you, someday in the future.”

In the High Realm, the highest and wealthiest portion of the city of Sunreign, Capitol of the Planet Ambros, center of the Ambrosian Republic—Marcus and Leila Solaras made company in the courtyard just outside of the Grand Statem—the highest building in the city, where the Senators and other governmental officials resided. It was the late morning, with a fiery, orange sun traversing a light teal sky. It was the middle of summer, and the weather was pleasantly warm. Eight grand oak trees with hundreds of years of wisdom stood tall in the courtyard, with ecru colored trunks and thick, far reaching branches decorated in shamrock colored leaves. The ground was paved in a fine marble with alternating colors of brown, black, and white between each slate. Various birds of crimson sung elegant odes aloud, and turquoise birds with orange auriculars and white chests flew liberally through the air, weaving from branch to branch. The high walls around the courtyard were stone and vanilla, and reached forty meters in height. The front end of the courtyard was open ended—the wall hung over a shaded walk way with fine wooden benches, various flowers protruding from stylishly blue vases and pots, and an entry way shaped in an arch, eight meters tall. Two guards of the Statem Elite stood like statues by the arch way—they wore dark goldenrod armor gilded in white, helmets that covered the entire face; their visors were of a metallic gold color, transparent on its interior and opaque on the outside.

22-Jul-2015 08:56:53 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2015 06:56:05 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

About five inches from the visor’s top began a set of protruding metallic fibers carefully lined and all equal in height, roughly a foot and a half—they were maroon in color, and arched from the top of the helmet, curved inward towards the back of the helmet where the base of the skull begins, and sprung outward once more, forming a delicate ‘C’ shape. These represented the flares of the Sun, an insignia of the Republic that stood for strength and honor. Both soldiers were armed with state of the art Forge Fire rifles, and a single Solar Gladius, a melee weapon that derives its power from photonic energy produced by the sun, was mounted on their hips—these were standard armaments of the special guard that defended the Capitol.

Marcus may have found some joy in bugging his sister, but his intent was honest. He cared for her, he wanted to see her flourish and protect her, given that she was the youngest of the four siblings of one of the High Magistrates, Eileen Solaras. He did not wish to discourage her from her desires to fight as her brothers did, but he knew where to maintain realism.

He walked forth, his arms crossed, a friendly grin on his face. “I’ve grown a knack for that now, haven’t I? A talent, really, I daresay a good one. Brothers should take pride in annoying their younger sisters.”

“Among other things,” she blurted under her breath, rolling her eyes, indicating her annoyance.

“Among other things, such as support--which I most certainly provide for you," Marcus reminded her as he chuckled about.

Cecilia’* expression changed as she stared at her brother—her eyebrows pouted, and she hung her arms sluggishly at her side, the out of date, worn sword hanging with her. The capsule that generated the hot light signature to the Solar swords had clearly been broken, and the sword was nothing more a sharpened alloy. “You don't even allow me to try. You’re not fair, you’re like mother and Brutus.”

22-Jul-2015 08:56:53 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2015 06:55:37 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“Oh I’ll let you try, Cecilia, always, but…” he paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, “sometimes people should invest their time where time is best spent. We may desire to be one thing, to fulfill a persona they wish to inhabit, but destiny... has other plans. Use your time wisely, effectively.

She attempted to smile lightly, but disappointment lingered in her expression. Thus, her smile was weak, showing Marcus that she understood his message, but did not fully commit to its notion, "is that why you joined the Order of the Sun?” she asked of her brother.

Marcus’s countenance became serious, “aye, it’s precisely why I joined the Order. It’s where I believe my duty lies, though I think destiny still has more to show me.”

Cecilia relaxed now. Her smile was genuine, and she enjoyed listening to her brother’s honesty, for he presented it in a way she found most comfortable. The harshness of her mother and her second eldest brother was never enjoyable.

“Marcus,” her eyes grew into offended diamonds, "I hate weakness. This body,” her expression implied an inner pain, "it is broken--I fear I will fail to provide the golden image mother wishes of me."

“Are you calling yourself weak?”

“No, I’m… I’m not sure. I know what happens to those who cannot sustain their own struggles. History is littered with them,” she began to chuckle lightly.

Marcus placed his hands at his sister’s shoulders. He was taller than her by far, standing five feet and ten inches. He put his finger gently at her for head. “Your strength lies here. A grand amount, burning with potential.”

The siblings turned together to take notice of two men that came forth from the archway. The guards at post instinctively saluted at their presence, and the two men gave a small nod, continuing to look forward at Marcus and his sister. It was their step father, Paxennto Taurus, the Prime Senator and Premier of the Republic, and the High General Andro Maxentius.

22-Jul-2015 08:56:53 - Last edited on 19-Aug-2015 20:13:15 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“Careful there Marcus, she’ll be cutting through you like butter in no time!” the seasoned general walked over, smoke billowing from his mouth in fine, elaborate waves. He was puffing his Silvia herb from a large, silver pipe—elaborate electronic lights of red and orange glowed as he pulled air forth. Wearing his casual yet well outfitted garment—a copper and black colored tunic, belted with slick dark pants and boots embroided in the same copper. He scuffled the young girl’s hair, chuckling about, though his voice was raspy and stern, making his laughter more of a deeply masculine chortle. He knelt down to her height, his figure still towering over her small body. The general took her sword in his hand while his eyes navigated it up and down.

“Humble,” he began, and then glanced over at her with a smile, “but broken. Very broken. Let me show you something.”

“I hear your mind is sharper than the entire Senate put together—careful your cute little head doesn’t pop with all that knowledge tucked away in there. Tell me, little one, how do this weapon work? It surely looks flashy and decorative, and it certainly is, but there are few who are aware of the sophistication involved in such technology. Most the common soldiers have not a clue what powers their fancy gadgets. What did those grand books in the Academy have to tell you about this?” he eyed the hot alloy blade once more.

He drew forth his battle sword—a dazzling light expanding from the base of the blade to the top. The intense brightness lit up his smirking face, and Cecilia’s eyes grew wide in partial curiosity and partial amazement. She had been present during various military drills and had seen the weapons of the army in use. However, to be this close to such a particularly fine blade was a rarity—a sword that was well crafted and decorated with a golden colored hilt with elaborate designs, especially the sun insignia shape carved at the base.

22-Jul-2015 08:56:54 - Last edited on 17-Aug-2015 01:39:02 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Ruby colored gems that lined the hilt glowed luminously as the sunlight danced off the blade. It was the general’s sword—thus, it was greater in size, more powerful, and more renowned. The Forger’s Guild was responsible for its creation, as it has been for hundreds of years—the technological masterminds that have helped frame the tools and weapons to be used by the Ambrosian armies.

Cecilia was especially satisfied when an opportunity arose for her to give testament of her time spent reading. When her mother carried her in the womb, during one of the long space voyages from to Akol-Atial to Ambrosia, one the neighboring cruisers experienced a mysterious malfunction—the fusion core that powered the craft was compromised—and detonated in proximity of Eileen’s ship. The dose of high energy radiation taken by the crew was eventually shielded, and the medical capabilities of Ambrosian healing units allow for the removal of radioactive radicals through concentrated particle displacement—but the rays had already affected Cecilia’s DNA. It was one of the single factors of the universe that even a civilization as sophisticated and knowledgeable as the Ambrosians failed to counter quite yet. She was born frail and weak—her bones were not entirely supportive of her body weight, and a tremendous amount of medical care was invested into assisting her development through adolescence. At fourteen years of age, her ailments are hardly noticeable now, but her body is smaller than most girls, and she struggles with strength and endurance. She grows tired and weak easily, and therefore cannot sustain herself in any form of intense physical training. Her pride came from her awareness. She has read countless material on the history of the galaxy’s complex civilizations, the application of the sciences of technology and weaponry, the economics of societies, and most importantly and more passionately—the powers of the Magus.

22-Jul-2015 08:56:54 - Last edited on 18-Aug-2015 23:15:07 by tmac attack

tmac attack

Posts: 444 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“There are solar panels lined throughout the metals on the hilts and the alloy on the blades. That's what powers the coils around here—which sends the high voltage electric energy through the sword,” she pointed at a small compartment at the top of the hilt to clarify the position of the coils.

The general inquired, "What makes it kill, darling?”

“Argento metal, it’s placed in the first interior layer of the blade. That’s where the discharge happens—and the plasma filaments are made.”

“Very hot filaments,” the smoke danced like some fabulous snake rattle around his bearded face.

“Yes…and to protect your ‘cute little hands’ from melting like butter, the alloys in the hilt act as an insulator. Pretty safe, unless you have a bad accident to, you know, break the shielding in the alloy. After that, you’d be roasted faster than the Silvia herb in your pipe. Then you wouldn’t be the chuckling little s--- you are now."

There was a brief silence—Marcus could not help but grin slightly, and Paxennto raised his eyebrows with respect to his step daughter’s clever response. The general puffed once more from his pipe, and with a leisurely kneel, he became eye level with Cecilia. His eyes winced, the hardened, leather wrinkles on his face forming crests and curves that traversed along his cheeks. He appeared like a dragon, with hot smoke whirling around his face, seeming to bleed into his grayish black beard. His jaw danced back and forth, the pipe softly rolling against his lips as he did.

Contrasting the silence, he released a terribly exaggerated wheeze, his mouth open and smiling, and he slapped at his knee repeatedly. This was followed by an absurd amount of howling laughter—he stood up now, his head drawn back while his copiously large jugular vibrated as he cackled about, smoke continuing to sway out his airways. He loved it.

22-Jul-2015 08:56:54 - Last edited on 19-Aug-2015 20:14:04 by tmac attack

Forums

Aeternum Ascended