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[ceejdoesroleplay]

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the setting is in the username :'D

[sizekink]

[ The Galra had found something. That was the extent of Thace's knowledge on the matter thanks to how tightly guarded high command is keeping their communications. Despite his promotion and proximity to the inner circle of the Emperor, they keep things tight-lipped; getting intel on the matter back to Kolivan, almost impossible. It's only by chance that he happens to hear two of the Druids conversing as they move, the ghosted whispers of being he knows well to avoid by now.

He doesn't get more than "Quintessence" and a ship cargo designation, but that's all he needs to act. When the ship pulls in to dock and its cargo secured, set for high command's deepest levels, Thace breaks in, intending to do no more than trace a log of the cargo's origin, destination, and contents. He expects it's to do with the Witch's never-ending Quintessence experiments.

What he doesn't expect to find is the hold empty of everything but a single cryo-chamber and a single occupant.

He hedges closer, uncertain and cautious, and nearly loses his breath when he gets close enough to see through the fog within.

Pale skin, pale hair. Pointed ears. Markings, which can only mean one thing--an Altean. ]

Impossible...

[ it comes out a murmur as he quickly scans the chamber, but what pops up? Is not a listing of information. Just an error message which tells him the device in front of him does not exist.

This is beyond top-secret. Thace curses. Handing an Altean over to the Emperor after his bloodthirsty drive to find Voltron...no. It isn't an option. So instead of sending the chamber onto its final destination Thace does something incredibly risky, incredibly stupid, and incredibly necessary.

He redesinates the codes on the chamber and switches it with one holding a prisoner, takes the chamber himself, and ships them both off base. Once it's just him and a few reprogrammed sentries on board Thace returns to the frozen chamber and slowly keys in the codes, waited with bated breath as air hisses upon release and the door opens. ]

/sweats

[heraldsdawn]

[ How long had it been since he went to sleep? Since the war happened? His last memories were of Zarkon attacking his planet, trying to wipe them all out. It was only by mere chance that he managed to escape off world and find one one of their safety bunkers with cryo chambers. Had anyone else managed to find there way to these safe havens? Did everyone get out alive? All those thoughts fade when he steps in the chamber and fades into sleep.

A dreamless sleep that now had ended when the hiss of mist escapes the opening of the cryo door. It all happens in slow motion once the door rises and waking world takes him. His eyes flutter open slowly trying to absorb the sight before him. A cold steel room with a figure standing feet away from him still blurred by the dim haze of his mind.

Sen began to step out of the chamber, hand brace against the side as his pale hand presses against his face and into his hair. He was dressed in midnight blue robes, sashed with silver, something a noble may wear, all to compliment the pale blond hair and green eyes of his. He lets out a small groan of exhaustion as he takes another step, but with his mind still in a fog he slips forward tumbling into the stranger. Reactively, Sen grabs hold of what he can catch in his hands; a shoulder, a sturdy part of the other's clothing as his legs weakly half stand, hang lie on the floor.

Finally, he slowly looks up blearily into the face of the other an expression of confusion and tiredness still hanging in his face; ]

What-who...who are you?

a h e h

[sizekink]

[ Any amount of cryogenic sleep is tough on the body; it is tough now, and Thace can only begin to imagine what it must've been like ten thousand years ago. It does not surprise him that when the Altean noble(?) awakens, that he finds his body in poor condition to support itself. What does, however, is that he stumbles into Thace and takes hold, clings to him for support in a way Thace has seldom had any but those who have perished on his blade.

This...boy is not enemy of his though, and Thace reacts instinctively to steady him, oversized hands large on the Altean's body as he steadies him with no shortage of brief awkwardness. ]

...I am Thace. [ There are no outward signs of hostility from the boy yet. Was he put under before the war? Or has he simply not yet remembered? ] Your body will be weak for some time. You should try to relax. Do you feel unwell?

[MoM VERSE]

[calibrating]

[Garrus never really held any qualms with teaching kids how to shoot. In turian culture, everybody--citizen-aged or younger--knows the ins and outs of military equipment. It's what made their society so secure and well-defended. Anyone who dared to try and take a turian home was due for a healthy dose of bad times. Reapers included.]

[However, Garrus could also tell when interest in armory went beyond practicality and well into more concerning areas.]

[So it's during another lesson that Garrus, while setting up new targets, brings up the topic.]

So you never told me why you wanted to learn how to shoot.

And don't give me any of that "I wanna help save the world" crap. We both know that's not it. At least not entirely.

[glitchinthesystem]

[ If Glitch was ever had good intentions such as saving the world, there clearly hell hadn't just frozen over, it had several ice ages and a few biblical floods. He had hoped that his reasons could be kept to himself, no question whatsoever. However, this is the dino alien man he's working with here and he already had a strong feeling this conversation was going to be breached at some point. Glitch had just hoped it was after the lesson, not before.

He had just been sitting on the ground, a pistol he had been given laying on a sheet and in parts. Obviously there were no bullets. No ammunition until the lesson started and that was only if the gun had been properly cleaned.

He's in the midst of cleaning when asked, and he only slightly looks up from the gun to Garrus with a cocked brow.]

Does it really matter about the why? I just wanted to learn. Don't see there being anything deeper than that.

[ But there was more to it. More than he would like to get into. It would mean having to come to a more personal level with the other and well...getting personal was never really Glitch's strong suit. ]

[calibrating]

It does.

[Garrus taps the hilt of a pistol hanging from his waist with a clawed finger, the thulium laced carapace sounding off a muffled clack.]

See this? This is a tool that can be used for a bunch of different things. You can use it to defend someone--yourself included--or to cause some serious, uncalled for damage.

Learning how to use it doesn't just come at a whim. There's always a reason behind it. Always.

How about some OC testing?

[fakepapers]

( Send your worse or someone willing to put up with a horrible liar and one piece fan. )

Everything changed when the Rebel Movement attacked

[restplease]

[ Things had finally been looking up for Bren. There weren't any crisis' that he was forced to help with or any people nearby that needed saving. He finally got almost a full nights rest...It was great. Sure, he knew it wouldn't last, but it was nice to have a break.

And then he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as the city descended into a panic. He didn't know what had happened, but from snippets of conversation he was able to catch, it seemed like some kind of rebel disturbance. Regardless of what actually happened, the pandemonium was spreading as more people became aware of the situation and rumors grew more and more sinister. People were freaking out and they didn't even know why, not really. It was exhausting to watch.

Bren tries to push his way through the crowd, to get closer to the incident and find out some actual information, when someone shouts at a guard and starts pointing in his direction.

Those two! They're the ones I saw lurking around, they must be with the Rebels!

It's like all the energy he'd stored up over the last couple days is sucked out in an instant. Yeah, he looked pretty disheveled and he had bags under his eyes from 20 years of living on practically no sleep, but he hadn't been lurking anywhere.

He looks over at the other person being accused and...it's a young man who doesn't really seem to be rebelling against anything at the moment. C'mon.

Bren sighs. ]

We should get outta here, kid. Before they lock us up with the actual criminals.

Re: Everything changed when the Rebel Movement attacked

[spitefullight]

[ This was not how this day was suppose to go. He had had everything planned out. Go around the city, offer some help where need be, see to the construction to the public gardens, that sort of thing. Nice charity work that was suppose to help people.

Instead, he's dealing with on set panic and hysteria with no one being able to trust anyone. Rebels a foot and not the good kind who want to save the city from a corrupt leader. No, of course it had to be undead worshipping freakos who wanted to ruin everything for everyone.

He had been looking into it, trying to scope out the culprits of this rebellion to flush them out. Instead, he had been seen by one of the members who was now pointing the attention towards him and some stranger. He wanted to yell, to scream that the man was a liar, that he was the culprit, but he's stopped when the man speaks. ]

What? No! I didn't do anything that guy's the freaking rebel asshole! You hear that! It's him! He's one of them!

[ Elden yells back to the accuser but his words seem to fall on deaf ears as the crowd was too riled up to pay attention. The boy all but curses looking to the man.]

God....shit! Fine! Lets go! But, you better not be some double agent!

For Chris

[spitefullight]

[ Elden had left the city for possibly the first time in his life. He had lived a life of an urchin, getting by through small acts of thieving. That was the day to day in this large, never sleeping city; just surviving for the sake of surviving. He wanted more from life, more than what he had and he almost believed it wouldn't happen. Until he had that dream from the woman wreathed in sunlight.

She spoke to him and told him to leave and ever since then things had been different. He had been given something in return but he was left with the one thing he needed; purpose. What was he to do? Maybe he had to find it. Either way he had left and was on the open road. But, thankfully, not alone.

The it was mid afternoon, the sun blazing down on the two youths as the walked along the dirt road. Fields of grass and wild flowers surrounded them, a sweet scent on the air. The sight would be marvellous but Elden was more focused on finding a place before night. ]

Hey, so, what does the map say? Are we close to any village?

[wiseacre]

[Corrin Wiseacre had lived a fairly normal life all things considered. His first ten years of life were spent in Willowdale--a small village made up of mostly farmers about a day’s ride out from the nearest city. He had a loving family--both parents alive and well and five older siblings--and lived a quiet, peaceful existence. For many it would have been enough, perhaps more than enough. His family wasn’t wealthy, they lived a humble life, but they did well enough for themselves that they were never left wanting.

It wasn’t enough for Corrin. More than anything in the world he wanted to be a wizard, but that just wasn’t something you did in Willowdale. Tutoring was expensive and landing an apprenticeship was a gamble at best. People from Willowdale didn’t become wizards.

He still thinks it had to have been luck that did it. Luck and only that that got him a prized apprenticeship with one of the most accomplished wizards in the world. He spent six years studying under Master Reynard’s careful tutelage--learning and nurturing his natural-born talent with magic, studying and studying and researching late into the night and well into the next morning, perfecting each and every spell he could.

And it still wasn’t enough.

Master Reynard died--he was old for a human, well into his 90s by the time he’d taken Corrin under his wing--and left him everything. All of his notes. All of his research. The manor he lived in and the expansive library that he could have easily spent the next ten years in and not even make a dent in the mountains of books still to read. He loved magic. He loved learning, but he didn’t just want to be a wizard. He wanted to be the greatest wizard the world had ever seen. He wanted to learn and see and do as much as he could, wanted to grow his knowledge and then share it with the world.

He left the manor. Left the town that had become his home for the past six years and started out on his own. He’s still convinced it’s luck that he came across Elden, but he’s certainly not complaining. They each had something they wanted--Corrin’s path was more clear, but Elden’s sense of purpose was strong. They hadn’t known each other that long, but he could tell that much at the very least.

The halfling opened up the map in his hands again, tracing their path and calculating the distance to the nearest village.]

Hmm...it, um...it looks like we’re pretty close to one. Or, well, you know, closer to one than we were before! We’re about...oh, I’d say two hours out from Banbury? It’s a mostly human settlement, I think.

[spitefullight]

[ He's thankful he ran into Corrin when he did. Travelling by yourself was never a smart thing to do and definitely not in this day and age. Though perhaps people might think oddly seeing two kids on the road...or by all appearances look like children. Elden looked down to them as Corrin sifted through the map and hearing the arrival time? Elden let out a long breath of relief. ]

Well, that's good at least. Better arriving after nightfall. Despite how pretty this place looks I don't really want to wait and see what comes out after daytime.

[ Maybe he shouldn't worry so much. The day was warm and the sun shone bright, a day where nothing truly bad could happen. But, even while he wore that smile he could feel his hands shake from an unknown worry.

To keep his hands busy and trying not to focus on their shaking he pulled his coin purse from his side and began to look through it. ]

We've got enough for a night's rest and some supplies but we're going to need to make some coin, fast.

[taarsidath_anhalsaam]

Bull hates Orlais. It's too much pomp and circumstance. The rooms are too shiny, too well-decorated.

But the beds were large, and soft, and Sen looked even smaller than usual, dwarfed by the bed. He was tucked in firmly, hair brushed from his face, sleeping peacefully.

He'd been sleeping too much. For days now. It had been days since Bull had carried Sen back through all those fucking mirrors, too light, too weak, even more colorless than his usual.

A decision had been made in the moment: Sen, lying crumpled on the stone, clutching his arm that was most assuredly going to kill him.

Bull had made the single clean stroke to take the arm just below the elbow, had driven all his strength and skill into it. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the scream of pain. But in the aftermath, with Sen bandaged and unconscious, he had looked less in pain than he had for a while.

It almost made it worth it, to know that Sen wasn't going to die because of the Anchor. And he had the best healers in all of Orlais and the Inquisition looking after him.

It didn't make it any easier, though, to sit at his bedside and wait.

Slowly, he reached out and cupped the top of Sen's head with one large palm, then leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. "Don't sleep too much longer. You need to wake up."

[heraldsdawn]

Sen had felt the anchor burn down his arm, the pain so intense it felt like a fire had been lit inside his arm. Solas had only curbed the pain when they spoke and just left him there to let his mark hand dissolve and burn him more. It was only through the sweet and swift kiss of Bull's axe that the pain was ended quickly but so was his consciousness.

He had spent days in a feverish sweat, his mind racing with everything that happened. The Qunari attack, Solas betrayal and what he planned to do. It continued non stop in this restless sleep of his. It's only finally broken when he feels a hand take his head a kiss on his head. There's a small moan of lethargy as his eyes flutter open slowly, vision focuses and Bull comes into view. "B-Bull?" He mumbles weakly towards the larger man. He goes to reach out to touch their face, but when his hand doesn't make contact he's confused. He turns to look and he realized it had been his left hand he had gone out to reach with, no longer there.

The realization is there as he lets out the longest of saddest sighs, lowering the stump. "I guess I must've forgotten I only had the one now..." he murmured, but he faces Bull offering the feeblest of smiles and says quietly, "Hi..."

[taarsidath_anhalsaam]

Bull smiles a little, despite himself. "Hi," he says, then drops a kiss onto Sen's forehead again, and then his nose, then his lips - gently, chastely. "How are you feeling?" He isn't going to immediately get a healer.

Bull moves to sit on the edge of the bed. Despite everything, Sen's here. He's alive, even if he's down an arm. He reaches for Sen's right hand, the one still intact, and brings it to his face. He's warm. For a while there it had been pretty touch and go. The anchor had drained Sen of his energy, and then the shock of having his arm - even if it was an arm that was killing him - removed.

Bull's just glad that Sen is a survivor. From the moment they met, Bull knew he would follow Sen anywhere.

for Shiro

[glitchinthesystem]

[ Glitch had come accustomed to Empatheias. The air, the water, the life outside, it was hard to put it into words. Incredible wasn't enough to explain this new found freedom he found here. As much as he wanted his friends from home in this place, maybe it was to be expected. It was too good to be true so obviously it had to still taste a little bitter.

He thought today was going to feel like one of those days. Just waking up to Empatheias feeling both grateful and angry, but instead it wasn't that. He woke up in a room he hadn't recognized. This wasn't like the one back home nor was it the one he stayed in in Empatheias. It was something all together. He instantly sat up from the bed, bolting to the door. If he's someone's kidnappee well, he was going to get the jump on them.

However, he all but stops when he passes the uncovered window. He turns to look outside only to look out in confusion. A city of machines and water was his view. Lights everywhere, a place that didn't look like it ever slept.

He approached the glass, placing a hand on it to look closer, as if somehow that would break this strange vision. ]

Where the hell am I? [ He doesn't even control the volume of his voice. He's definitely might've shouted that. ]

[tenyearswaiting]

[Jecht wanted to stay in Empatheias for as long as possible, though going home wasn't such a bad deal. He'd get to see Braska again and maybe Tidus. And both of those were worth the boredom of the Farplane. Except neither of those happened.

It was something almost better. There was no mistaking Zanarkand when he woke up and looked out the window. This isn't his boathouse. There aren't any pictures of his wife and Tidus. It's home and not.

It shouldn't be possible.

He's drawn out of his confusion at the shout. A familiar voice in fact. He tracks the voice to the room and opens the door.]

Glitch? That you?

[glitchinthesystem]

[ He turnst towards the voice that calls back to him, and momentarily he clenches a fist to allow electricity gather in it. Was it the voice of his supposed kidnapper? Perhaps.

He was going to give them a face full of electricity up until it finally clicks in his mind who's voice that is. The appearance of the man definitely gives Glitch that confirmation. He drops his hand and immediately walks forward to them, at least somewhat relieved at a friendly(?) face. ]

Yeah, it's me. [ He turns his gaze back to the window and points out at it; ]
Do you know where the hell we are? Or how the hell we got here?

Because, I'm seriously fucking sure that's not Empatheis out there. It's too...mechanical.

For Gen

[glitchinthesystem]

[ The smell of fire and blood seemed to fill the air. A ringing filled his ears, cutting out all sound around him as his head wracked with pain. He could feel the cold, metal floor pressed against his cheek as he lay splayed there. What had happened to have him here?

He was to finally be a padawan to a Jedi Master. He was to put together his saber for the final time and finally go out on an assignment for the republic. But, then the screams happened, the shots of blasters going off. He had turned to the noise, leaving his room to see what was happening. Then an explosion and he felt himself thrown across the hall.

He let out a grunt of pain as he heaved himself from the floor, the smell of burning cloth caught his nose. Turning his gaze towards the source of the smell he was greeted by the sight of flames crawling up his robe. Immediately, his eyes go wide as he rips it off and tossing it to the side; well, he never did like the thing anyways.

But, what had caused all this commotion? How many had gotten hurt in that explosion? Pushing his bangs from his face, Glitch ran towards the noise, hearing the sounds of blasters and screams becoming louder and louder. When he turned the corner he was met with the sight he never imagined;

Clones, firing upon Jedi, Jedi cutting down clones as they advanced. Bodies strewn across the floor, both youngling and adult alike. He froze, eyes darting around at the carnage. What was happening? Why was this happening? He had been so focused on what was before him he barely noticed a trooper stepping up beside him and ready to shoot. His eyes glance and he already hits the floor before the laser hits him. Wide eyed on the floor, his body in shock he can only push himself away as the soldier looks back to him, ready to fire again. ]

[sithkabobed]

[There's no time to consider moral quandaries of attacking those who were once your allies. Not when undergoing a full-on assault, and not when there were dead Jedi--young, old, and in-between--strewn about the hallways.]

[Qui-Gon didn't know what was happening. He didn't know why it was happening. He didn't know who could have possibly sparked an invasion of a Temple dedicated to peace and the protection of all in the galaxy. But he did know one thing: he couldn't allow this to continue. He had to do something.]

[When Glitch sprawls on the ground in front of him, Qui-Gon's instincts take over. He's unfamiliar with this particular Padawan, but that doesn't matter. Names could come later after the two were safe. Instead, Qui-Gon flourishes his bright green blade, quick and efficient; the soldier is dead, his head and helmet rolling away.]

[It's a grisly scene, but there's no time to reflect. He reaches down a hand for Glitch to grab, his lightsaber at the ready to deflect any incoming blaster fire.]

To your feet. Now.

Jim Hawkins | Treasure Planet | OTA

[imstillhere]

[ Want a custom prompt? Here's some ideas
Random scenarios
Or Quotes ]

For gonnaliveforever

[heraldsdawn]

[ Demons. It always had to be demons? It never seemed like there was a break between that or dealing with cultists. Honestly, if the two didn't get mixed up together it would be a very slow day indeed.

Sen had gotten separated from the others from an enemy mage's spell having brought down the cliff side. Just his luck. Things either went wonderfully in his favour or horribly against him. There was no in-between.

Right now he was just fleeing for his life, throwing spells behind him as he went as the enemy slowly caught up behind. Through gritted teeth he could only say; ]

Why must all these cultists have a death wish?!

[gonnaliveforever]

[Fucking demons. Fucking mages. Fucking snow and armies marching through and fucking Orlesians thinking they have the right to move in where they please. David's broken more than a few noses, fingers and jaws since trying to settle down out here in the mountains just trying to find some peace in the spreading chaos.

When the rock face he'd fled to crouch beneath had crumbled thanks to an explosion of magic overhead, he'd sworn our vividly and thrown himself out of the way, and down the path away from the group that all seemed to work together only in the loosest sense. It out him right into the path of the elf.

At least, he's assuming that the approaching spell-slinger is an elf. They're small and fast and making a concerted effort not to get cornered by more of those gods-damned stupid zealots that would sooner cut down anyone in their paths or else toss them into cages for trade. Probably to the Imperium.

Yeah, add 'vints to the list of people that need to fuck right off.

After dipping aside to let the screaming elf go past and maybe find the shadowed corner he'd been tucked into to recover, the huge grizzly bear looking man squares up in the middle of the rubble-clogged path.]

Alright, who th'fuck's that now?

[He shouts it loud enough to give the pursuing cultists pause, and barely hesitates to wait for an answer before striding up with his fist already flying with his weight behind it. It flattens one man, who rolls on the ground screaming and clutching his nose while the others move around him to converge on the man who was decidedly not their target, until just this moment.

Which meant he'd done his job. So it was time for him to go.

He snags the elf's arm as he turns back again to vault over upset terrain and back toward an enclosed clearing that had previously housed a tiny village. Before these arseholes had arrived.]

FUCK, shite fuck-shite-fuck-shite- move, kid, go!

[shieldofstars]

It's a Hell of a fight - literally. Champion against Champion, Zerxus against a fighter he remembers hearing of, once, but whose identity is now lost to him; they are but an enemy for him to fight, though he supposes, in the back of his mind, they could have been friends. So many of those he fights, he could have been friends with, but for the simple fact that these are not his fights to choose; he is bound to Asmodeus's command, to his soul contract, for what may as well be eternity.

It already feels like eternity, though it seems like only yesterday that Avalir fell. That the Calamity began. That day of revelations, of trust given and broken, and belief that damned him - belief he still holds, for if it is one thing Asmodeus cannot overwrite, it is what makes Zerxus Zerxus. Be it hubris or faith, Zerxus holds on to it, even as he loses consciousness from the next merciless strike to his head.

Good, is his last thought. For while he fights for Asmodeus, no one doubts the fact that his heart is elsewhere. Forever searching the stars for its soulmate, just as that soulmate reaches out for him, in turn. One day, they may even be reunited.

This day, though, he falls. And when he wakes up, he is surprised to find himself not back in the Hells- and moreso to find that the chokehold he has felt on his very being, his soul, has lessened. He sits up, a hand flying to his forehead, and- no. Those are still there. But-

But the battle is over. There is nothing here but the dead, he realizes, as he looks around and sees the crows picking at those left.

[heraldsdawn]

It wasn't hard to see such a magnificent flying city from the mountain tops. The wizards in their ivory towers, the smell of magic on the air. It was such a breathtaking sight to behold. But, those days felt like a million years ago.

Seeing it from far away was one thing, watching the city descend into the ground, crash, and explode into so many broken splinters. The sky was painted in burning oranges as the arcane fires rose from the crash site. How long ago that was, a year maybe? Maybe less. Sen didn't really count.

An elf having already lived a century, years felt more like footprints on the shore; they're left and the ocean sweeps them away. Each day bled into the next; well, until today. Sen had come across a devilish-looking figure, surrounded by the dead, who had immediately raised their mace to him. Many things raced through his head as he parried the blows with his scimitar. He'd seen this figure before, but not like this. He had been the first Knight of Avalir, had he not?

So, why was he like this now? What profane power took hold of him to have his eyes blaze with such fury and darkness? It did not matter though because whatever words he said seemed to fall on deaf ears. Still, he had heard this man was once a soul for good...so perhaps something was corrupting him?

Well. If that were the case it had been good that he had been blessed with his own sacred power. One touch was all it took when his hand pressed against their chest, he felt that thread of darkness binding the soul and he snatched it, and frayed it. The dark light of it dimmed and while it remained it was definitely weaker.

All of it seemed to lead up to the present now, where Sen had been sitting beside Zerxus, with a bowl of water, having dabbed at their brow before they immediately sat awake. Sen jumped a bit himself, leaning back as the man seemed to be finding his bearings. There's a moment of silence before finally, he offers a small smile as he curious tilts his head towards the man. "I see you decided to wake up. Are you feeling any better or are you wanting to try and go on another murderous rampage?" It's said in jest as if he was finding some kind of humour in the scenario.