Mazera Mega Story Thread

Meanwhile, in Midgar:
Ozziel and Methyl sat in opposite cells. This prevented them from attacking each other outright, although they exchanged insults at a brutal pace. "Overweight, drug-addled charlatan!" "Pompous old windbag!" "You're just another pawn in the gods' games!" "Your god is just the childish delusion of a lunatic!" "Your idea of research is asking whores questions when you're done with them, provided you're sober enough to piece together a complete sentence!" "Your idea of research is writing down hearsay, outside observation, and whatever the various religions tell you!" "You make me want to puke!" "You make me think somebody already did!"

Finally, Captain Tobias decided he'd had enough. "Oh shut up, the both of you. This is worse than listening to my sisters bicker!" Neither one wanted to anger their captors any further, so thereafter they made due with glaring at each other; Tobias could have sworn the air between them had grown colder due to the sheer hatred between them.

Eventually, Gabriel entered. "Ah, yes. Ozziel and Elder Methyl. It saddens me to see such excellent scholars bickering like children. You both have made excellent contributions to the field of theological research..." Each grumbled, refusing to acknowledge the other. "Now, it would be a shame if you were rendered unable to continue research..." Ozziel said, "so, what you're saying is the bribes we offered were too small, and you want more? Typical." Gabriel went silent for a moment, then said "no. And if you don't want to be spending a very, very long time under very, very heavy security, I advise you shut up and listen." Ozziel examined the prison; he could probably escape, but it would be a pain in the ass, and being a wanted man made research very inconvenient. Gabriel continued. "The Scions to the west have apparently taken to worshiping their emperor as a god. A strange theology, which we would like to know more about..."

Ozziel said, "so, you let us out, we do some research on the cult of the Emperor, you forget our crimes, right?" Gabriel nodded. Methyl said, "and how do you intend to prevent the Balseraph from just running away? Don't let his appearance fool you, he's quite fast." Gabriel said, "I don't. If he runs away, he will be missing the opportunity to visit the Scion empire, with lodgings, food, whores, drinks, and other such things all paid for by myself and a handful of other interested parties from all over Erebus. Don't worry, Methyl, we have a similar offer for you, albeit one that involves a more reputable part of town and more honorable enjoyments." "And the wager?" Gabriel said, "Ozziel's absurd hat, your curious little box, and the 25 gold each of you wagered have been claimed by the Grigori government for now. We will settle the matter later... and thorough research regarding the Emperor may help your case. "

[The last round of insults regarding puke were taken from Monkey Island.]

EDIT: Cypher, you ninja'd me... though since the modifications you're working on effect nations, not individuals, and nothing has actually happened, I think I'm safe. I'll wait for the re-opening to continue, though.

I like it. But should I say that? Delimma...

Would Ozziel even like Scion whores?

Ok, reopen. Some of the new resource lists have been handed out, those that haven't received them yet will get them later tonight. If you guys could fill out an infrastructure for your government and PM it to me, that would help greatly. Ok, gotta run. Concert.

I would like to anounce that I am steping down as leader of the Mazatle. Goverment has no intrest for me any more, and so I will take to a life of adenture. Good day.

It had taken strong Lanun sailors all their effort to keep Methyl and Ozziel from each other's throats, but they had managed to arrive in the Scion lands, get seperate carriages to Avitas, and come to a basic agreement to stay out of each other's paths. "I get all the seedy places," Ozziel had said, "and you get all the boring ones. Deal?" They'd agreed, and spoken no more to each other.

His mysterious employers had certainly known Ozziel well. Too well for his liking, though he was glad they were presently on his side. The place they'd found him was the perfect balance of reputable and shady, the sort of place where someone would pick your pockets if you weren't paying attention, but wouldn't sink a knife in your back. The dice were loaded, and the cards were stacked, but if you managed to get lucky despite that, you wouldn't be dragged into a back room and beaten.

On the other side of town, Methyl relaxed on a fine bed, far nicer than anything he'd usually spend on himself. The staff was polite, if somewhat reserved, and the streets were clean. But it was the location that really made the place; he could see the Temple of the Gift outside his window. After unpacking, he decided to pay it a visit.

Methyl was stopped at the gate. "You ain't one o' them tourists, are you?" The guard grabbed Methyl's hand. "Warm. And you don't look like you're here for the gift." Methyl was very fond of being alive, so he shook his head. "I'm Elder Methyl of the Luonnotar. Author of Reflections on the State Cults. You may have heard of me?" The guard shook his head. "You don't come in unless you're receiving the gift, or have already done so." Methyl shook his head, and went to see what he could of the church from the outside. As he rounded a corner, he noticed Ozziel, fiddling with a side door with a set of lockpicks. Methyl hid himself behind a pillar. He heard a lock click and, a few minutes later, Ozziel arguing with the guards. "C'mon, it was open! These things? Found 'em. Look like they'd be good for... what do you mean they're lockpicks? Why are you dragging me out? There's probably some thief in there, stealing your relics, and you're worried about a scholar? This is outrageous!" Methyl chuckled quietly and, when the guards were out of sight, slipped into the Temple.

I might have to visit the Scion lands again after this

Praise the Emperor! The Risen Emperor has seen fit to invite the Ordine Medicos into his lands. Though effectively useless for the majority of the Scions un-death population, the Medicos are much better suited to take care of the Scions growing number of tourists and living traders than the Scions' own undead restorative magics.

The Ordine Medicos is pleased, if a little unnerved, to be warmly supported in their quest to support life by those who have left it behind. There are hopes that this might be a beneficial relationship indeed: the Scions are able to extend their friendships and trade relations throughout the continent with the Ordine, and the Ordine has hopes and suspicions that the Hunted Lands of the Scions might provide new and marvelous medicines indeed.

A great but empty mansion has been found in the Scion capital to host the Medicos. Reflecting its role in treating tourists and visitors rather than domestics, this Ordine Cathedral has been termed the Ordine Embassy and serves an uncommon number of roles for foreign nationals in general.

The initiate was brought before the altar of the Emperor, and the Doomsayer of this cathedral, which was filled with a fine mist. He was clearly nervous, and hurried to kneel before the altar, doing his best to avoid meeting the Doomsayer's eyes.
"Tell me," the Doomsayer commanded, "why do you seek the power of Patria?"
"That I might serve the Emperor, and serve Patria's eternal glory."
The doomsayer nodded. "Granted the power to warp fate itself, you would be satisfied serving others?"
"A life without the Emperor is meaningless. A life outside of Patria is futile. The Emperor is the ruler of Patria Reborn, and he alone offers eternity to his subjects. Those who do not serve the Emperor receive only death."
"Very good. Now, tell me, what do you sense within this hallowed place?" The initiate replied, "I sense the peace of the Emperor. I sense the glory of Patria. I sense the might of our people. I sense eternity."
The doomsayer smiled. "Well answered. You are loyal, though somewhat less observant then I had hoped. I, on the other hand, sense a beating heart." "The heart of the city? The heart of Patria reborn, a thing alive even though it is made up of the undead?" The Doomsayer's smile widened. "Actually no. I was referring to the old Luon

"Actually, no. I was referring to the old Luonnotar who has been watching us all this time." Elder Methyl froze as the Doomsayer spoke, stopping his writing in mid-sentence. He didn't know whether this was caused by the Doomsayer's magic, terror, or some combination of both, but it didn't matter now. He was dead, or perhaps undead, anyways. The doomsayer smiled darkly at Elder Methyl. "Elder Methyl. I must say, I'm suprised. I'd heard you Luonnotar were immune to magic." He muttered something, and Methyl felt a chill wind pass over him. The Doomsayer said, "apparently, you are. Strange... but no matter. I could kill you with my bare hands easily enough. Your precious One is so far nowhere to be found..."
A figure coalesced from the mist, and removed the Doomgiver's head with a single stroke. The initiate fled, before finding himself running straight into a blade. The closer of the two bowed. Methyl said, "Sidar, I presume?" "By birth, though no longer by loyalty. Our employers suspected Ozziel would need our services, though frankly, we had expected better of you." "Your employers?" But the assassins had already vanished. Methyl got up, carefully holding his writings to assure he didn't smear the ink, and left the Temple, making a note to finish his work later.
As soon as he stepped out, he saw a familiar, bright shape run by. Ozziel stopped when he realized he'd passed Methyl, turned on his heel, and said, "looks like we got us a fairy godmother! Oh man, not only do they pay for our stuff, they bail us out if we screw up! It's like the Revelry came early, just only for the two of us! Well... maybe just me. I doubt your heart could stand something like that." With that, Ozziel hailed a carriage and was off to whatever sleazy den he'd decided to visit that night.

[For those who haven't noticed, Elder Methryl is the author of the Acolyte, Zealot, Nightwatch, Savant, Disciple of Leaves, Thane of Kilmorph, and Ecclesiastic 'pedia entries. I tried to match their tone as best as possible.]

No major world update this week. Too busy with building the economy and infrastructure. Plus I'm tired.

Here's the government form for you guys to fill out. It should make it a lot simpler. Just fill it out and PM it to me. Also, if you could title your stories, it would make it easier for me when updating the index. The index has been updated, so I had to come up with names myself for some of them.


Government Form


*Leader:

*Any assistants:

Domestic Advisor:

Financial Advisor:

*Foreign Advisor:

*Military Advisor:

Technology Advisor:

*Head General:

Head Captain:

Head Master Sergeant:

Any other characters you feel are important:

* = Mandatory

The Yokaido Authority, the post-war government installed and supported by the Grigori composed mostly of the Peasant Revolution leaders, has announced it's intent to emulate the Grigori form of government and prepare to assume a Demos form of government. When completed, Yokaido Province will become the Autonomous Constituent Yokaido Republic.

The Revolution leaders, most of whom have spent great amounts of time post-war under Grigori teachings and philosophy, are increasingly following the Grigori Way in thought and practice. Grigori overseers have been helping much of this along from a position of support, but many leaders seem to have taken the lessons to heart as a defense against any future Cambion domination.

Cambions, ironically, have been some of the most vocal supporters for the Demos advance: regardless of their own opinions, being seen as a public supporter of the Demos is one of the surest paths to safety for the despised but powerful minority, and the protections of minorities in the Grigori model promise to prevent and diminish future retributive actions.

Few proposals for the future leader have been proposed, however. There is only one man at that point who has the trust of both the Peasants and the Cambion, and he remains a prisoner in Midgard under Cassiel's own tutelage.

OOC
I have a question...
Isn't that late and Can i join as Daracaat or Kahd (I have some ... mhmhmh personality links with them )
Have not benn here for a while, will like to participate in your story

/OOC

Slvynn, if I were you, I would PM cypher132 with the civ you want.
The Khadi aren't taken, but the Archos are. I'd talk to cypher132 first though, because
1) He is the Game Master
2) He is in control of the Archos, but may let you have them

Oh, and by the way, I am the Amurites.

A skittering, a loose pattering of stone. Shadows flitting down the cliff wall.

Ongar Gutsmear laughed as he watched the drunken orcs before him. He sat on his throne, looted from a minor doviello warlord, and grinned at the pile of gold and silver that was piled around the cave. The War band had just come back from looting a small village, and found that a Grigori ambassador was staying there for the night, with a wagon full of a gift for his destination. What that destination was, Ongar didn’t know, and didn’t care. All the mattered was that the gold was his.

Two shadows hung above the cave entrance, watching the orcish sentinels lounging on the ground, looking outwards. But never up. No one ever looked up.

Ongar bit into the Roasted joint, fat dripping down his chin. Rarely had such pleasure been awarded to mortal. A War band of his own to command, a rich area, a defensible cave fortress, and more food and ale than any of the orcs had seen before.

Held by their hands and feet, the shadows skittered along the cave roof, passing over many drunken and sleeping orcs, until they could see the one they were there to hunt.

The Beer was thick and strong, not that cheap, pale stuff they made in Grigori lands, but real Doviello beer, Almost thick enough to be eaten with a spoon. Through the haze of smoke and alcohol, Ongar looked up, perplexed. he had seen some movement in the shadows, or at least, thought he had, for there was nothing there now.

X!ta froze. Had the orc seen him? But no, the Orc looked back down at his meal. He let out a deep breath, and Twee looked at him reprovingly. They were doing a favor for Ericai, and it would ruin their reputation if they failed.

The Orc got up and stumbled to his bed, an alcove hidden away from the other orcs. He grunted in anticipation, knowing that a slave woman stolen from the Village would be there, waiting for him.

They followed the orc into his room, and, as he bent down, dropped to the ground, slicing into his back deftly. The Orc collapsed without a sound, and they silently cut out his heart, as proof of their deed. Silently, they diseapeared into the shadows of the cave.

The Next Morning, a damp bag was put at a crossroads next to a rock with a specific symbol crudely carved into it.

Hm. Interesting, and curios. I don't know where you're going with it.

Dean_the_Young said:

Hm. Interesting, and curios. I don't know where you're going with it.

Click to expand...

Me? just something I had to do to get some information.

Ozziel skipped down the street, whistling, before crashing into a figure that had not been there a moment ago. "It's my overly-mysterious guardian angel!" The assassin peered contemptuously down at Ozziel. "So... where are you heading in such a hurry?" Ozziel said, "C'mon, you're not my gaoler, are you?" "No. You are free to go where you like. But if you were, by any chance, planning to anger the largest thug you could find, for the sole purpose of us killing him for you and then conveniently disappearing, in order to increase your own reputation, know that we will let said thug beat you half to death before saving your pathetic hide. And then we will probably add a few more beatings of our own for good measure."
There was silence, before Ozziel asked, "how... did you know..." But the assassin was gone. "Well, so much for that plan." He continued, still in good spirits, looking forward to a productive night.

Notes from Avitas:

• Alcohol does not affect undead. They can taste it, but are not made drunk. (There goes best method of information gathering.)
• Exception: Spirits (literally; substance made from animal spirits) have alcohol-like effect. Must obtain more. Smell foul. Did not drink; not that crazy.
• Cold whores indeed major turn-off. Spells provided, extra charge, to make them warm. Lack of diseases, no risk of pregnancy, major pluses. Other minuses include not-quite-perfect appearance in cheapest whores (really creepy), too-perfect appearance of others (almost as bad), lack of redheads.
• Visited Ordine Medicos, who still remember Flaming Sheep Incident. Was hurled out of embassy.
• Overlords sect found, very small, founded by fellow Balseraphs. Substances for affecting living grossly overpriced. Purchased substances modified for undead consumption, will use to obtain information later.
• Returned to Medicos embassy, bribed guards. Obtained information regarding undead physiology, substances owned within. Was eventually recognized, left before hurling could commence.
• Got Scion drunk, discovered various useful bits of trivia regarding Scion worship. Will write up later.

[I only realized later my "scribbled down notes" grammar sounds disturbingly like Rorschach. It's coincidence, nothing more.]

KillerClowns said:

Ozziel skipped down the street, whistling, before crashing into a figure that had not been there a moment ago. "It's my overly-mysterious guardian angel!" The assassin peered contemptuously down at Ozziel. "So... where are you heading in such a hurry?" Ozziel said, "C'mon, you're not my gaoler, are you?" "No. You are free to go where you like. But if you were, by any chance, planning to anger the largest thug you could find, for the sole purpose of us killing him for you and then conveniently disappearing, in order to increase your own reputation, know that we will let said thug beat you half to death before saving your pathetic hide. And then we will probably add a few more beatings of our own for good measure."
There was silence, before Ozziel asked, "how... did you know..." But the assassin was gone. "Well, so much for that plan." He continued, still in good spirits, looking forward to a productive night.

Notes from Avitas:

• Alcohol does not affect undead. They can taste it, but are not made drunk. (There goes best method of information gathering.)
• Exception: Spirits (literally; substance made from animal spirits) have alcohol-like effect. Must obtain more. Smell foul. Did not drink; not that crazy.
• Cold whores indeed major turn-off. Spells provided, extra charge, to make them warm. Lack of diseases, no risk of pregnancy, major pluses. Other minuses include not-quite-perfect appearance in cheapest whores (really creepy), too-perfect appearance of others (almost as bad), lack of redheads.
• Visited Ordine Medicos, who still remember Flaming Sheep Incident. Was hurled out of embassy.
• Overlords sect found, very small, founded by fellow Balseraphs. Substances for affecting living grossly overpriced. Purchased substances modified for undead consumption, will use to obtain information later.
• Returned to Medicos embassy, bribed guards. Obtained information regarding undead physiology, substances owned within. Was eventually recognized, left before hurling could commence.
• Got Scion drunk, discovered various useful bits of trivia regarding Scion worship. Will write up later.

[I only realized later my "scribbled down notes" grammar sounds disturbingly like Rorschach. It's coincidence, nothing more.]

Click to expand...

Rorschach's Journal, day 15. Noticed undead whores can't get pregnant, must remember to investigate further.

So, ah, what was this 'flaming sheep incident'? I'm pretty sure you didn't paint a flock pink or anything...