User:Qmasterflex86/Project Dwi 01/Undead
OOC Note: The contents of this page are not in-game canon. They are meant for personal entertainment only. Full disclaimer here.
Rebirth
| Event from Tacitus | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the vicinity of Unterstrom | |
| The surface of Unterstrom appeared unchanged, for bandits, thieves, rogues, and such ilk continued to hold their territories, claiming unspoken authority over the dark disorganized city rife with crime. Deep below the remnants of the keep of Unterstrom, in the maze of catacombs lit by phantasmal and faint blue glows etched into the walls and flickering as flames on torches that had not illuminated darkness in many centuries, ten figures rose.
At first they appeared formless and immaterial, like shadows moving of their own accord. Then there were many loud creaking noises that echoed throughout the deep underground labyrinth, screeches of metal against stone. The sources of such painful grating sounds at last arrived at the shadows, where they halted, putting an end to the cacophony but not to the resonating remnants that persisted for several seconds. The shadows paid no heed to the noise, for they felt no such foreign thing as pain. Soon the shadows were picking up parts of rusted metal, pieces of armor and weapons buried beneath the keep among the crypts of kings and heroes. Through black wispy tendrils the shadows grasped the decayed metals, bent them, shaped them, all as the red rust slowly turned black. Shapes formed, intangible shadow became solid metal. When all ten gained definite bodies, the blackness on the rusty metal withdrew, leaving ten armored figures in immaculately shining plate, which reflected the blue glow intensely. The tallest metallic being spoke, and the others listened, "Our powers are restored. Too long we have slept through the ages of wood and stone and steel. Now, it is time for us to return to the surface, for our kingdoms have too long suffered the absence of our rule." The gathering of hollow suits of armor voiced its general agreement, and the ten faded into darkness as the torches and the engravings lost their glow, leaving no trace of what had transpired. Above ground, no one noticed any differences, save for those who were most sensitive to the gift. | |
| Tacitus (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Richter | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| In a dimly lit chamber of the Unterstrom crypts, one of the dead kings brooded. It was an anomaly that the dead kings could still brood at all, for most other undead were mindless and emotionless. Richter, once the proud king who ruled in his jewel of Unterstrom, surrounded by the bountiful and fierce woods of Weinschenk and Eisenik, sat on a cold marble sarcophagus, his cold steel body meeting equally cold white marble. The flickering candlelight provided the only light in the deep expanse, though Richter did not care for the light. After Tacitus concluded their meeting after their third revival, the former ruler of the Kingdom of Unterstrom went off on his own to his family crypt for reasons he did not fully understand. Though he had long been dead, inside his hollow metal shell, something in him still burned in cold anger. | |
| Richter (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Medea | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| Richter was not alone. A lithe form took light steps towards the sitting Richter, making distinct clicks as her sharp metallic heels hit the old stone floor. The feminine body wore a dark robe decorated with runes that fluttered in the current of an unfelt wind. It created the illusion that she was hovering above the ground.
When she was exactly behind Richter, the ancient king of Unterstrom spoke first. "Medea." The voice was flat and metallic, devoid of any feeling, spoken as a matter of fact rather than as a greeting. Medea chuckled coldly with equal indifference. "Sitting here will not help you regain your throne, King Richter." "Leave me." "Oh!" Medea exclaimed in mock surprise. "I see diplomacy must not have been your style as a ruler. Perhaps you might consider it, for you, as a conqueror, are not even close to Iskander of Springdale or Tacitus of Nifelheim." At the mention of Tacitus, Richter subtly shifted. This was caught immediately by Medea’s watchful gaze. "King Tacitus, thinks he is our leader. Quite bold, especially since he has taken such command in Unterstrom. Unless I am mistaken, you were the king of Unterstrom, not Tacitus. When did that change?" "My last warning, treacherous whore. Leave me." There was a sinister venom that laced Richter’s words, which made his voice sound so dangerous that few others could emulate. Medea chuckled again as she backed out of the crypt, her metallic heels steadily fading in volume. | |
| Medea (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Event from Iskander | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the vicinity of Weinschenk | |
| While the others wasted their time planning, Iskander had already left the underground labyrinth to emerge into the light of the surface world. He took in a deep breath, even though he did not need any air to survive. The old habits died hard, and he was satisfied that his desire for land and glory was preserved throughout the many ages he had spent dormant as nothing more than a shadow.
He tried to forget about the time he spent powerless, unable to take physical form, able only to observe his surroundings, often which were nothing but impenetrable darkness. He did not enjoy such a condition, nor did he like the many centuries of waiting. If such were possible, he even hated waiting helplessly. But that was all in the past. For now, the great conqueror Iskander of Springdale would once more ride through the lands, adding more territory to his banner. His army would rise once more. The sworn loyal warriors of their great king, who vowed to follow their sovereign to the ends of the earth and beyond the border of life into the afterlife, would be granted their reunion with their ruler. Iskander raised his restored greatsword into the air, reflecting the sun across the backdrop of thick trees. A distant tremor passed through the winds, unfelt by all except Iskander. He looked through the mass of trees into the eastern horizon, and he rode on his steed of unholy steel, thundering towards the eastern end of Dwilight, seeking to meet his eternal army. | |
| Iskander (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Event from Tacitus | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the vicinity of Unterstrom | |
| Six remained in the large underground improvised meeting hall of the Unterstrom catacombs. Two of the absentees were still underground, off in other parts for their own reasons. One had impatiently left for the surface alone. Tacitus felt slight annoyance at the rash action of Iskander. He could not understand why that former conqueror of Springdale still acted so much like a human, led more by passions than by reason.
Unfeeling reason led him to restore the powers of the ten dead kings. Though several were lost forever, the ten who remained would be more than enough to reclaim the great ancient kingdoms of Dwilight. The tall husk of cold steel looked with invisible eyes at the hull of a massive black ship, its bow protruding partially into the meeting hall. Decayed flesh and ashen bones formed the entirety of the vessel, that vessel that would fulfill the grand plans that the great undying king Tacitus had planned for millennia. The dead king echoed in a monotonous metallic voice: "Soon, my kingdom." | |
| Tacitus (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Verthandi | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| A smaller, slim body of metal sat around a clear basin filled with a strange liquid. Like Medea, a flowing robe wrapped around Verthandi’s figure, though no runes glowed, and the robe was a plain brown fabric. The ancient queen who had prophetic gifts in life retained those skills, and even gained much more control and power in the many millennia spent dormant in death.
The basin of clear liquid swirled and broke into ripples. An observer would see nothing, but Verthandi saw many images painting a vivid picture of events to come. She saw Tacitus observing the horrendous ship built of corpses that was slowly repairing itself. She saw Richter brooding silently in the crypt of his ancestors, as well as his descendants. She saw Medea moving through the many rooms of the catacombs searching for what she desired. She saw the six dead kings who had chosen to allow Tacitus to lead them in their plans to retake their former lands. She saw Iskander riding his thunderous steed, causing tremors to shake the earth as he hastened to meet his eternally dedicated army. The images troubled her, but Verthandi was thankful for once more having the power to walk the mortal world. She wished to see how Mimer had changed with the passing of time, and how different, or similar, it would be compared to her predictions. | |
| Verthandi (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Medea | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| Age-worn stone and rotting torches laid the path for the cruel ancient queen. She smiled with her non-existent mouth, a wicked gesture reminiscent of her time as a living woman whose heart, even in life, was as cold as it was in death.
“Richter, Tacitus, two fools in one castle. Richter, you proud, stupid king of the dark castle. Tacitus, you scheming, short-sighted king of the dead city. Both crawling in the palm of my hand.” She chuckled softly but sinisterly as she observed the ghastly blue light from the aged torches dancing in the reflections cast on her metallic hand. The silver-blue fingers moved dexterously as she caused one of the flames from a nearby torch to jump across her palm, bouncing along the length of her arm. “Your kingdoms shall be mine at last, foolish kings.” None heard the empty laughter tainted with cruelty as Medea reveled in her own euphoria, a horrible sound interjected only by the clicking of her spiked heels against the floor. | |
| Medea (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Verthandi | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| Before the visitor announced himself, Verthandi had already detected his presence. Such sensitivity to the ripples of the present had been magnified greatly as consequence of her rebirth. “Welcome hero.” Whispered Verthandi to the one who had just entered her chamber. | |
| Verthandi (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Sigurd | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| “Greetings, Queen Verthandi.” Said Sigurd, proudly and strongly, in a rich baritone that was preserved even after death, and only slightly distorted by his steel body. The dead hero king looked similar to Iskander, though his frame was not as wide and not as brazenly decorated with meaningless decorations of former times. A single sword hung across his back, a treasure whose blueprints were stored in Sigurd’s undying memory, recreated along with his body in the rebirth. “I see time has only sharpened your vision. If only it gave clarity to the minds of some of our comrades.” | |
| Sigurd (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Verthandi | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| “None can see beyond what can be understood, hero. As in life, also in death, that remains unchanged. I sense that you are concerned. About success? Or perhaps your concern is directed at one among us?” | |
| Verthandi (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Sigurd | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Understrom | |
| Sigurd wondered whether Verthandi already knew the answers to her questions and was merely testing him. At least time had eroded the formerly hot temper of the hero, though he was still quicker to rashness and anger than most of the reborn kings, with perhaps the exception of Iskander and Richter. “Queen Verthandi, you are correct on both accounts. I do not care to recreate the glory of my kingdom in Muspelheim, for none who live would remember their king who died so long ago. But I do not agree with the methods King Iskander has taken, going out so overtly announcing our rebirth to all the land. More troubling to me, though, are Tacitus and Medea. One is a selfish snake concerned only with completing some voyage he has kept secret all this time. The other in life was a demoness in the shape of a woman whose death only released her true nature. We may all be dead, but death does not erase our identities completely, nor does the fact that we are dead make me any less disapproving of them.” | |
| Sigurd (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Roleplay from Verthandi | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the region Unterstrom | |
| “You may be right, you may be wrong, hero. We know so little of our world, nothing in life, and even less after death. Even ourselves we cannot truly know. I am honored that you have come to me for counsel, but I cannot provide what you seek.” Verthandi finally turned to face Sigurd, her transparent eyes in her hollow metal head locking with those of the hero. “As odd as it is to say this to one who is dead, your feelings are often as good a guide as they were in life.” | |
| Verthandi (Ancient Monarch) | |
Advent
| Event from Yong Han | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the vicinity of Cailyn | |
| A lone tree fell in an equally lonely meadow, its sole inhabitant the one who felled the tree. Yong Han, the ancient emperor whose capital was situated in Donghaiwei, observed with keen attention the effects of his technique, critiquing the angle and the force against the tree trunk. Dressed in the bright silks he once wore in life, the warrior king was satisfied with how well-preserved his skills remained. Even so, he was constantly bothered by the reminder that all his former apprentices were gone, leaving him the last possessor of his family’s proud swordfighting technique. In the empty meadow of Cailyn, Yong Han wordlessly wondered whether he would ever have a successor to the Han sword arts. | |
| Yong Han (Ancient Monarch) | |
| Event from Horati | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the vicinity of Desert of Silhouettes | |
| Swirling, howling sandstorms! The relentless sun, the abrasive grains of sand, the thick blinding walls of sand! Horati the once great god-king of Sallowtown remarked with interest at how much the Desert of Silhouettes had changed from the days it was known as the Fountain of Silhouettes.
The unfeeling steel that made Horati’s body was insensitive to the heat of the ever-present sun, the dry air, and the rough sand. He traveled quickly, unhindered by the desert, following a path clearly etched into his memory to reach his jewel, the port city Sallowtown. Along the way he had met the descendants of men in the forests of Shyussei and at isolated oases in the desert. They were all bandits and thieves, and the undead king slew them swiftly along his path, for he did not tolerate such scum. Even their corpses he chose to cut into many pieces, finding them unworthy even to serve the lowest of positions in his undead legion. He hoped that Sallowtown had not been claimed by such filth, for he would not suffer his great jewel to be sullied by dirty opportunists who enjoyed the benefits of his great city in his absence. | |
| Horati (Ancient Monarch) | |
