(OOC Edit: Please direct any questions or comments that are non RP related to the link below. For the sake of eliminating clutter and keeping the story alive, this thread is for the story only... the exception being this single post. For the sake of the story, all OOC information, questions, comments and concerns from this point forward should be directed to the following link below. Anything for me, just send me a PM. Thanks!
I'm going to go ahead and start this RP off, if you're interested in participating, and/or want more information go ahead and sign up here: http://thefinalfantasy.net/forums/ge...gn-up-now.html
*Please sign up before contributing in order to reduce randomness and storykilling*
This is a group RP, so any and all contributions are welcome, throw whatever creativity you have into the mixing pot as long as it doesn't contradict, interfere or control anyone else's characters or storyline. You can have a completely isolated story block, or you can interact with the others as you wish. Don't be afraid to let your characters die or take control of other original characters to continue participation, just make sure that it fits the storyline. You do not need to limit yourself to only one character, you can RP through multiple characters as long as you do so responsibly. As far as the actual battling goes, only commanders can call in troops (who's actions and purpose are implied: they are fodder). To keep the RPBing fair, you may only -battle- with your main character. God modding will not be tolerated! Useless/pointless/confusing posts will be asked to be edited. This isn't about our characters and how amazing they are while they float around in space talking about their own amazingness -- it's about a story. Let's make it a good one! Now, for the introduction...)
The astral membrane that separates Earth from the firey lick of the spawn of hell had been torn. Torn like the pure white wool of a screaming nun's robes by the claws of a wild-eyed imp. As she lay gasping and sputtering out garbled prayers, crimson liquid seeped forth throughout the cloth, spreading like the dark grasp of Satan's army throughout the land.
War, human nature, survival of the fittest. These are all beliefs drilled into the young minds of Ramuh's Conquistadors - beliefs set deeper than any emotion such as mercy or empathy could reach. The legion of manslayers moved from village to town, town to city, city to empire. All in their path lay wasted for the carrion crows that followed them with blind loyalty, eager for more gory scraps - much like the Conquistadors followed their Dictator. His name - Arch Ramuh III - remained burned into the landscape. Marble statues depicted flowing robes, a stern scowl curtained by an immense beard, and upraised palms as if the heavens themselves blessed his mission. The once peaceful lands of the northern provinces where once the great buffalo had grazed openly - now lay scored and barren as the Conquistadors spilled the blood of the rightous, salted their farmlands, raped, pillaged, razed, and brought the wrath of a malevolent god to the Earth like a hooded executioner's axe. War is hell.
The happenings of Earth's battles did not go unnoticed even by the skull-faced master of chaos who resides in the core of the Earth -- Hades himself. His eyeless pits stared deep into his Cauldron, witnessing all mortal blood spilled in the name of pride. The scarlet river fueled the fire beneath the ancient and pitch black bowl. The primordial liquid bubbled and frothed until it began to boil over. Hades' shadowy figure leaned over the Couldron, deciphering the images so horrid and foul that if any other creature looked upon the surface of the liquid would be so horrified they would fall into the mix. Hades' hands began to dance and swirl over the corrosive smoke and toxic vapors. His unholy ribs rattled as a voice unfitting to describe chanted vile cantations. Ramuh's wrath had unwittingly given Hades the final ingredient for his recipe for destruction. The product of this recipe: Apocalypse.
At this very moment, unknowing heroes gather at the Gates of Alexandria. They come from near and far for one reason: to protect the innocent. They steel themselves for battle unaware of the horrors they will encounter - for they will not be taking up arms against a nation of killers - what descends upon the Gates of Alexandria is Apocalypse. This City of Light is soon to become the last refuge for the rightous and the pure, ultimate sanctuary for the weak and the oppressed, final home of the would be saviors of the Earth... ground zero.
Reply With Quote
Bookmarks