Heroes vs Monsters - The Fate of Alexandria

[Hobaginator]

(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.

[Order]

Aspirant sheathed his glimmering rapier as his devotees finished the winding knots of rope. Twin spirits of chastity lay hog-tied together, blindfolded and gagged. In his late twenties, Aspirant was not a particularly large or strong individual. His face was young with the smooth skin of an adolescent, but his eyes conveyed a look of knowing. Born as 'Winter' to a banker, the youngest of six children, Aspirant had endured more than one human's share of pain and struggle.
After twenty years of being blamed, abused, stepped on and taken for granted, 'Winter' decided his life could get no worse. He spent years seeking out the legendary demon Lecherous, fooling spirits into believing he would battle this great defiler. 'Winter' endured yet more hardship and struggle, performing the selfless feats which spirits desired of him, all in order to gain their trust and receive the power of their blessings.
Finally, a spirit of Honor granted him the right to wield a sword which could actually injure a greater demon. The same sword, he was warned, could also be used to harm good spirits and mortals alike. 'Winter' set out to strike a bargain with Lecherous.
That, too was no simple task. The price of a demon's strength and favor is high.

And so, now renamed 'Aspirant', this seemingly young man came to lead a cult of demon worshippers over two-thousand strong. He had fought and defeated kingdoms and stood as the figurehead, idol and role model to all demon worshippers. Even though he was no thrall or devotee, but an asset to Lecherous.

The twin spirits of chastity whimpered and struggled against their restraints as cultists loaded them into the bay of a lavishly decorated carriage. Wordlessly, Aspirant removed his fencing armor; he placed his bronze-brimmed barret next to him on the red velvet seat inside the carriage. He unbuckled the tight-fitted vest, then the sections of the brass gauntlet which extended from his left shoulder to his wrist. Lastly, Aspirant removed the belt and sheath which held his infamous blade as he spoke to the captive spirits,
“You will be offered as gifts to the great demon Lecherous. It would be in your best interest not to struggle too much. I am willing to mutilate both of you with this sword as you have seen me mutilate your devotees. Lecherous will have his offerings this month as he has had every month. I have never and will never fail.” At these words, both spirits sobbed and begged through their bonds, pleading with Aspirant to show mercy just as the young boy named ‘Winter’ had pleaded so often in the past. Aspirant clenched his jaw and jabbed the closer spirit with the toe of his boot; he reminded himself that the boy ‘Winter’ was dead now for a good reason and replaced with someone better, stronger, happier.

The great defiler sat at his throne, built of gold which was hammered into finely detailed depictions of his victories, savagery, brutality and greatness. Bleached skulls of kings and champions lay spiked upon gold-plated stakes above the vaulting shoulders of the throne. Lecherous’ claws brushed the black velvet carpet which ran the length of his throne room. The monolithic beast’s horns stretched several feet past the broad shoulders of his blasphemous and lofty perch. Twisted gold piercings adorned most of his heaving body, to include the branch-like base of either horn which extended from the base of his great brow and even his exposed and proudly displayed member. The demon of debauchery’s hoofs appeared to be as glossy and hardened as onyx and spread the diameter of a dinner plate. His long, sharp teeth interlocked into a broadening grin which let loose fire, ash and cinder as they always had at the thought of his newest gift steadily approaching.
The stone doors of the throne room rumbled and ground against their hinges as dozens of devotees strained and grunted against their mass. Aspirant crossed the threshold of the yawning entry and immediately dropped to one knee,
“Great defiler, I would like to present an offering of such rarity it overshadows even my first offering which formed the basis of our arrangement.” At these words, Lecherous’ nostrils flared and his clawed hands slowly and deliberately raised from the rests of his throne, finally coming together to interlock fingers.
“Aspirant, your claim risks disappointment.” Fire, ash and cinder rolled from Lecherous’ jaws as it always had, “Though I do approve of your ability to give rise to such curious suspense in my numbed core.” The unholy giant rose from his ornate throne and stepped closer to his humbled protégé, “You may stand and have your servants deliver the offering.” Lecherous parted his hands, lowered his long, blade-like claws to the stone at his hooves and rested his arms as if still seated at his frightening perch.
Aspirant rose to his feet and nodded to a single servant who stood beside the granite slabs of doors. The servant pulled a cord which in turn rang a silver bell outside the throne room and, before much delay, the weighty doors rumbled open. The door servants marched in with twin spirits of chastity suspended between their straining arms and placed the prize before Aspirant.
“Mighty Lecherous, am confident that you are satisfied with this gift and I hope you will show myself and my followers favor as you have for so many months before.” Aspirant bowed deeply before the great defiler.
“Aptly named Aspirant, you may indeed receive the honor of holding my favor.” The terrible beast’s muscles rippled as his claws slowly rose from the stone at his hooves and flame, ash and cinder rolled from his jaws as it always had. A blur of heat radiated from powerful Lecherous’ core in anticipation of his inevitable feeding, “You may all dismiss yourselves.”

[Hobaginator]

Meanwhile in Alexandria...

"We have to make sure that everyone who cannot participate in battle makes their way into the safety of the mountains!" Cid, the Captain of the Guardsmen, stood proudly upon a stack of crates as he yelled into a crude megaphone in the market square. The market, once packed with jovial merchants and smiling shoppers, was packed to the brim with knights, mercenaries, paladins, dragoons, samurai, armed peasants, wizards and warchocobos alike. Save for the combatants who stood shoulder to shoulder, the once colorful and bustling market was now the picture of desolation. Blank beige canvas covered many of the empty kiosks. Some were marked 'CLOSED' other merchants simply cut and ran, leaving them as they were. Supplies and assets that had been seized in exchange for gil and protection were now strapped to the backs of beasts of burden being ushered up the twisting trails of the wintery peaks. Cid's thick blonde eyebrows draped low over serious eyes, framed by the creases of wisdom that come quickly with being Guard Captain. With a deep breath, and chest raised proudly, he continued. "Once this task is completed, then we will make our stand at the gates! Sick, elderly, women, infants and children must be protected at all costs!"
"Hooah!" A cheer arose from Alexandria's warriors.
From atop his windy perch on the upward curving edge of a magnificent cathedral carved straight out of the marbled limestone of the mountain's edge, Imp stood statuesque in the clever, recently perfected form of a gargoyle. Through his powerful demonic will, he formed his mortal skin into a rough and stonelike ashen ebony and stood completely still, watching and listening. His large, ribbed ears picked up every syllable of every sentence that the Captain uttered. Behind him, through the miraculous detail of stained glass depicting various gallant and chivalrous scenes of knights overcoming dragons and demons, the joyous noise of praise and prayer rang deep in the membranes of his eardrums disturbing his concentration and obnoxiously stirring the ashes in his belly to no end. To the west and north he could see a line of panicked citizens being ushered up winding roads until disappearing over the horizon. They ambled slowly into the snow-capped peaks of the mountainside above the massive marble and steel City of Light.
"I've got to get away from this infernal racket!" He snapped under his breath, spitting on the stained glass behind him. With the speed and swiftness belonging only to a fretful imp of hell, he leapt from the safety of his high perch and soared lower, landing upon the squared edge of a short pillar beside a marble stairway. A single straw haired child watched in wonder as he witnessed the batlike imp descend from the sky and land on the pillar before resuming his gargoyle-like pose. He tugged at his pregnant mother's tunic. She was holding a bundled up baby in one hand and carrying a basket of bread in the other.
"Mommy! Mommy!" He cried.
"What is it Markus?" She replied, half paying attention and clearly already emotionally drained.
"That statue... it moved!" He wimpered.
"Oh don't be silly."
"No really Mommy! I saw it!" He insisted. From an arm's length away, the woman inspected the details of the gargoyle for a moment.
"Hmm... I don't remember this particular carving being here before." She whispered to herself. "Somebody superstitious must have put this here recently." She surmised. "Honey, what did I tell you about fibbing to Mommy?" She said, dismissing her son's claims.
"But... But Mommy!" He cried.
"Enough son!" She snapped. "Just because your father isn't here doesn't mean you get a free ticket to act up, now I don't want to hear any more of this!" Clearly having so much on her shoulders was wearing her down emotionally, she stifled a sob and quickly blinked away her tears. "Be a good boy so that I can tell your father how you were the big man when he gets back, okay honey?"
The boy stood still, staring at the gargoyle's face while his mother looked down at him. Imp turned his head, widened his eyes, opened his needly mouth and rapidly wagged his long, black, forked tongue at the boy. The boy screamed and ran around behind his mother crying. Imp returned to his statuesque pose while the boy and his mother continued on, fussing back and forth.
Imp's beady black eyes gazed out over the mass of warriors, gathering a rough estimate of their numbers as he listened to the rest of the Guard Captain's speech. As the majority of the people departed the square to attend to their various tasks, Imp patiently watched the Captain shake hands, offer condolences and continue to give words of encouragement for several minutes before making his way towards the Palace. A dark cloud passed overhead casting a momentary shadow over the City of Light. It was all the cover Imp needed. He leapt from the marble pillar and soared high into the air faster than the fastest of birds. His hawk-like eyes spotted the Captain entering the Palace and from there, his sonar like ears penetrated the thick marble walls. The unmistakable jingle and clank of Cid's steel greaves was easier to track than a rat in a corn field (a simple task for the hellbat). The sounds came to a rest in an open-windowed room near the peak of the high tower. It couldn't have been easier. Imp descended, digging his sharp claws into the edge of the marble just below the windowsill. His glossy, black eyes peered over the sill into the candle-lit room where Cid sat, head in his hands, elbows resting upon a desk full of letters. Cries for help, pleadings for mercy, Imp could only guess what was on the papers, for he could not yet read ‘humanspeak’. His eyes scanned the room until coming to a rest upon an attention-grabbing, shiny object; a silver-chained pendant made of the finest white gold, embossed on which was a magnificent blue shield rimmed with yellow gold, sitting upon a tabletop, beckoning the demon's grubby paws. Imp could not resist his urge. With the stealth that only a miniscule imp of hell trying to avoid the wrathful gaze of a higher demon could manage, Imp crept into the room on all fours like a demonic lizard. He climbed upon the tabletop and snatched the treasure up, but not before his eye also caught a rolled parchment, stamped with a red and blue wax seal. He stole it as well. With a devilish grin, he leapt clear out of the window and spiraled up into the sky.
"Hehehe!" He squealed as he looked at his trophies. "Shiny!" He squeaked with delight as he held up the pendant. "Scroll!" He giggled as he held up the parchment. "Master will be so pleased!"
He scanned the ground below, deciding to follow the line of refugees as far as he could. With the speed only a hellbat could possess, he glided over the line, following them from above - clear through the snowy peaks of the mountain side until finally reaching the mouth of a cave, in front of which stood several dozen armed guards. Some of the men had crossbows, swords and axes, others were clearly adepts in the art of magic. "Imp has followed far enough.” He grumbled to himself. “Plenty of goodies for now." He decided, and he turned southward. His spear-like tail whipped and lashed behind him as he took off at full speed to return to dark sanctuary.
He soared overhead above Aspirant and his band of cultists into the foreboding, dark wrought metal entrance of Lecherous’ lair. Deep inside, the great demon sat upon his throne. Imp approached quietly. His two-toed hooves clicked and clacked before coming to a rest, yards from the red behemoth. "Master, Imp has done well. Imp has much information." Imp said, stepping side to side nervously. The great demon Lecherous simply stared at him, continuing to breathe ash, smoke and cinder as he always did. Imp snickered with delight. "Many warriors, many souls, many!" He shrieked. "Four hundred head at least bearing arms. More coming, always more!" He chattered gruffly. "A Guard Captain of the human name 'Cid' leads them. An armored champion, he is, yes." He paused to let Lecherous digest the information, nodding vigorously before continuing. "Many old, many women and children hide in the mountains, in a cave!" He hopped from one hoof to the other in excitement. Lecherous simply stared into Imp's beady eyes showing neither approval nor disapproval.
"What is behind your back, little imp." Lecherous' deep voice rumbled and echoed throughout the glowing ember halls of his lair.
"What? Imp has nothing behind his back!" He snipped. Lecherous made as if to stand up from his throne; great horns swaying, piercings rattling out their unique melody of deathly chimes. "Oh! This? You mean this?" Imp chirped, showing the parchment. "This is nothing. I mean, Imp found it in the city! You can have it, it means nothing to Imp!" He tossed the parchment to Lecherous, who caught it between two katana-like claws. Lecherous broke the seal.
"Captain Cid," The firey demon read aloud. "It is with great regret and apology that I inform you that our Great Nation of Howling Peaks may send only one warrior. However, this warrior is our city's champion. May he serve your cause well. Signed: Prince Dena’Vuska II."
Imp cocked his head to the side. Lecherous let out a bellow of what might be considered a scoff. "Useless." He engulfed the parchment in flame in his very palm, letting the ashes settle where they may. "What else?"
"What do you mean master? That is all!" Imp said.
"What else is behind your back?" Lecherous growled, with clenching jaws.
"Nothing. I-"
"Little imp do not incur my wrath!" Lecherous roared. Before the great demon had finished his sentence Imp had already tossed the pendant onto his left index claw and covered his ears.
"It is a shiny!" He squealed. Lecherous leaned his head back, staring down his nose and the glimmering jewel. He snorted.
"The symbol of a paladin. Where did you find this?"
"The shiny belonged to Guard Captain human ‘Cid’." Imp said, face upturned, ears down, dejected. He pulled his bottom lip down with the claws of both hands in agitation as he watched Lecherous handle his prize. Lecherous tossed the pendant to the imp with the flick of his claw as he slowly stood, and paced around to the back of the room, claws interlocked, dragging behind him as though he were pondering some unanswered question. Imp caught the pendant in midair with a leap, and scampered underneath Lecherous' throne, stashing the jewel with a small hoard of other shiny treasures. His beady eyes looked each and every one over as he picked them up one at a time, rubbing them with his grubby hands, against his wrinkly face, biting them with his needly teeth and tasting and licking them with his forked tongue before he emerged from beneath the great demon's throne. When he emerged, Lecherous had already resumed his seat. Imp stared at the monstrous form before him with concerned intent, unsure of where to be. Lecherous simply continued to inhale and exhale as ash, flame and cinder fell forth from his sharp teeth and rolled down his monstrous chest as it always had. Imp turned to leave. His two-toed hooves clicked and clacked with each step.
"Tormentor." Lecherous said before the imp reached the exit. Imp turned to face him, forehead lifted into a hundred wrinkles of concern and fear. With a flick of his claw, Lecherous tossed the hellbat a glowing red piece of gore. Imp caught it in his right paw. Lecherous inhaled slowly before speaking. "The heart of a spirit of chastity."
Imp squealed with delight and devoured it in a flurry of shredding claws and chomping teeth. It was gone in an instant. The little demon stood there licking every drop of juice from his fingers, arms and lips before he let out a tremolo of a screeching howl of delight and scampered away in fiendish laughter.