Terra Aparattus

[Tobuoi]

"Wear the face of the Machinist who gives motion to the machine's many gears, a great clamor brought as the machine's harsh iron and bright steel stirred to life by the hand of the machinist..."

Terra Aparattus​

Global warming, pollution, continental flooding...all man-made catastrophes that brought the entirety of humanity--once the greatest civilization to hold reign over the planet--to its humble knees. There is little water safe to drink, little land left fertile enough to grow food, and no village under a sky that is not eternally gray. Those who are lucky will live to see the age of forty. Many, however, are not so fortunate. Malnourishment, as well as air and water contamination, has crippled the life expectancy. Being the way of things, there has been no one alive in the last two hundred years that remembers a time when the human population breached 2,000.​

For some, what little time they have alive is not so precious. Radioactive waste among a number of hazardous pollutants has caused physical and mental deficiencies for hundreds. Still, as always, even in the darkest of times, humanity has found hope. This time, in the shape of a book. The only remaining printed book, in fact, and with all accomplishments and knowledge of their species left behind in their flooded cities and towns, its perfect print and seamless binding are considered a sign of holiness and its contents law. Only a few are capable of reading it.​

The book is titled Terra Aparattus and states a variety of decrees, first and foremost being that the use of any machinery is an abominational sin, the very one that brought the planet into such decadence in the first place. Anyone who has questioned the contents of the book has promptly been put to death.​

But what if the meaning of the book has been terribly misinterpreted? What if, rather than a means of religious faith, the book was made to be a guide--a manual of sorts--for something much greater? Rest assured, it was. Written hundreds, if not thousands of years ago, the book was written as a cryptic guide for a great machine with the ability to "save the world", should it descend into a state of decay such as the one it's in, now. A few have deciphered this, but for fear of their own lives, have been forced to keep it a secret. Yet still, they conspire and plan with the intentions of stealing the book and finding the planet's last hope for long-lost vitality...though not even they can predict the final outcome of the machine's launch.​

"...That which is forsaken in the eyes of the rightly guided will save the world."
-Terra Aparattus, article I​

Characters​

Mahdi
A sixteen-year-old girl who has come to question the ways of her people and posseses an ever-growing determination to unveil the secrets of Terra Aparattus that lie in ancient waiting.
Rei
Eighteen years old, this boy grew up as an orphan. Over the years, he has put much effort into learning to read and write and upon doing so, has acquired a longing to find Terra Aparattus and save his people.
Anastasia
Yet another orphan, Anastasia is twelve years old. Found by a cult known as "The Ravaged Dawn" at a young age, she has been subject to beatings and has the cult's symbol branded and tattooed throughout her body. Such treatment has left her unquestioning, bidding the violent wills of her oppressors.
"Shift"
A strange and inhuman being, its origins are known to no one. However, it has been known to kill and feed upon those who oppose it. Being an outcast since its first existence in this world, it has few prejudices other than the Book and those who follow it.
Hied
An eighteen-year-old who grew up impoverished. When his father was executed, he developed a keen sense of responsibilty. Hied has recently set off on his own with an ancient and forbidden gun and a desire to find out more about Terra Aparattus.
Alexandre
A twenty-six-year-old man who was better-off than most, growing up. Having a sense of adventure, Alexandre has heard of Terra Aparattus during his travels and now waits for others to show interest in his pursuit.
Blue
A young girl whose age is uncertain to her (though presumed to be around eighteen). Not knowing her family or home, Blue still believes in the beauty of life and this has driven her to change the fates of her people and her world.
Jefe
Having been in this world for thirty-six years, he, too, hungers for change. In his grim life, Jefe has gotten by on farming potatoes. However, Jefe has also committed terrible acts that he wishes to forget and this has aided his longing for a better future.
Aelfus
Now believed to be in his mid-twenties, Aelfus has lived a solitary life filled with strife. He resents the human race, believing they hardly deserved a first chance, let alone a second, and thus seeks to destroy Terra Aparattus.
Saul Templar
A dangerous, twenty-one-year old agent of the church who is bent on punishing all who oppose the ways of the church. He has already seen many to their ends.​

The OOC and sign-up thread can be found here: http://forums.khinsider.com/roleplaying/115856-terra-aparattus-original-rp.html Feel free to submit a template at any point.​

 

[Dark Philosopher]

"Anastasia..." the voice said, cold, filled with hate and anger, it slithered towards her as she sat, surrounded by darkness. Anastasia could see nothing, but she could feel his presence, the leader of the Ravaged Dawn's voice was unmistakable. She could feel his anger, but could not remember what she had done. He called her name again, she could feel an object flying towards her, and flinched.

The bright sunlight broke through Anastasia's eyes as it seeped through the dusty window of the abandoned building that had been her home for the night. Her heart still pounded with fear, the cold voice still echoing through her ears. The young girl stood and brushed some of the dust off her robe, glancing out of the window, it was nearly midday, the nightmare was her punishment for sleeping late so soundly. "Forgive me Aparattus, I shall not rest so easily while you are in danger, again." she said softly to herself. Anastasia walked to the corner of the room and picked up her bow and quiver, slipping both over her shoulder, and left the crumbling building. She had heard rumors on the road, that this settlement had seen travelers who sought the Holy Book... The chances of meeting someone while traveling were low, so Anastasia took it as a sign of fate, and a chance to do her duty.

The dry wind brushed Anastasia's hair as she walked to the center of the city, the buildings around her had once been a great city of the fallen old world... tales said it held millions of people. The city now held a scrawny settlement, it's near one hundred people were massive compared to the population of the world, and as such it was a center of trade for precious resources, and a stop for many nomads and wanderers... Anastasia hoped it would lead her to those who would misuse the Holy Book, her dread had been growing for days. If she returned empty handed...

Anastasia kept walking entering the settlement's borders, keeping to herself, she pulled her hood up and over her head.

 

[DarkHeart63]

"Hied, take the money and go! Leave this village, and goet to someplace else! We don't need you anymore, just go and live your life!"
Those words... The ones that Hied's mother spoke to him to convince him to get out the village he'd lived in all his life and go somewhere else... In a big, wide, disgusting world that Hied wasn't used to, but somehow adpated himself to be.
Hied came from a poverty stricken family, and all the money they had was given to him to go have a life beyond what they expected. Despite the conditions they lived in, there were many of them who spent their days just searching the streets, looking for some kind of currency. Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles- each of them had collected about enough money to last Hied a shocking amount of time, and he took it.

That was Hied could think about while he walked down he lengty road ahead of him, breathing in all the unknown fumes from the air that could, at any given moment, end his life. But he had an endless will-power, one that would not be detered by any kind of poison forced into his body. Even in his dying minutes, he would search for what it was he longed for, even if that meant dragging his paralyzed body along with him.
What he longed for? To know that, you have to know something else- the legendary book named the Terra Aparattus. A text that, according to myth, could take the world out of the current state it was in. But Hied had his doubts about that legend, and he would traverse to the very edges of the world just to see if he was right or not. And all this, his family giving him their hard-earned money, Hied putting his own life at risk. All this was because of what his father had belived in. That the Terra Aparattus was a lie, just a falacy to keep those who didn't know any better hoping for some... "Cure", if you may.

Hied himself was now far from his village, at least several miles. He looked around, and all he could see was a desolate wasteland. No plants could live in this air, and any animal that wasn't human would most likely die a slow and painful death.
"Father must have been right... There's no way that something so small could rid us of something so big..." Hied thought to himself, remembering the words his father had told him before. Obviously Hied wasn't foolish enough to say it out loud, in case someone heard- those who questioned the book's power would be excuted by those who ran the law.

And that was exactly where Hied was headed- to the largest city he could find. He'd heard that these cities were like the village he himself had come from, but on a larger scale. Buildings that reached the sky, and people who didn't have to search for money. Hied had also heard that this was where a group called "the government" was kept, and that they were the ones who knew about the Terra Aparattus.
If he could find these people, he could find the truth.

 

[Tobuoi]

Mahdi: Mahdi threw a small tarp over a hole in the ground and shoveled piles of dirt onto it with her arms until the tarp could no longer be seen. She stood up and gave the mound of dirt a kick to disperse it more thoroughly. She stared at it for a moment, her hands on her hips, and determined that it was well-hidden as it was going to get. Turning to a small table in the center of the closed tent, she rolled up her dirtied sleeves and dunked her hands clumsily into a large bowl of already tainted water. She rinsed her arms and hands and fingers off, ridding them of dirt, rust, and most importantly, oil. Not that she knew much of the substance, but it was a clear indication of what infidelities she had been up to. As she stared down into the water, she remembered...

Ten years ago, when Mahdi was merely six years of age, the church had come to visit their village, as they did every ten years. With them, they brought the one genuine copy of Terra Aparattus, the holy Book. Sure, there were hand-written copies in every village, but no one had seen printed text in decades, if not longer. Everyone was excited, barely able to wait to hear the words of the Book from the archbishop, himself.

On the day of the church's arrival, the entire village had lined up on the sides of the street, watching and cheering as the church made their advance. Mahdi stood there on the side with her family, her mother clutching her to her side. Smiling broadly, Mahdi clapped and laughed with everyone else around her. Finally, an older man, in his mid-thirties, followed behind two guards, leading the rest of the church. He was donned in the finest clothing Mahdi had ever seen...soft robes of vivid colors and shoes that covered his entire feet and ankles. In his hands was the book, held in front of him for all to see. Mahdi became overwhelmed with excitement. She left her mother's grasp and ran out into the street, holding out her small hand to touch the Book, only to have it smacked harshly with a cane.

This time, Mahdi would be successful and she would have the Book. The church was a day away from her village, and Mahdi had plans to execute.

 

[GuardianOfHearts]

"You're going to grow up to be misshapen, stunted, and weak, do you know that? A sad, sad little example of how a mighty race has crumbled. You'll be joyless and ugly, and no one will call you beautiful except for me. But by the time you're grown, if you do even live that long, I'll be dead anyway. My life's half over, after all."

Blue leaned her back against a remaining fragment of a brick wall, sitting on rough concrete that was spiderwebbed with fissures and sprouting pathetic tufts of half-dried grass here and there. By the fold of tattered black cloth covering her leg was a tiny little tree, some seedling that had by miraculous chance managed to take root there. Two limp whitish-green leaves had sprouted out already, their leech of color a product of a world without true sunlight. The shoot was a hardening blue-grey stem barely an inch tall.

She touched a dirty finger gently to one of the leaves, feeling its soft texture beneath her callus-roughened skin. "I would like to see you live, you know. It'd be nice to think that there really are still things growing these days. Even us humans aren't growing to live. We're just growing to die, it seems."

Despite her slightly morbid verbal apostrophe, Blue did not look especially gloomy. Merely thoughtful, and a little wistful. Sighing, she reached into one of the accidental pockets (made from inner tears) of her thin sweater and pulled out half of a very small apple. The other side she had already cut away, as it had been brown and shriveled. But what was left was quite adequate, especially for a girl who usually went a day or two without eating.

Crooking her right leg up, she reached into her boot and pulled out her knife, using it to slice the pale meat of the apple into crescents. Then she began eating.

While she took her time on the apple (to make it last longer), Blue scratched away at the crumbly concrete she was sitting on with the tip of her knife, practicing at making letters. As her learning was quite imperfect, and the only examples of the alphabet she'd seen had been hand-written, most of her attempts were rough at best. But it was far more than most people these days knew.

After a while she smoothed out her practice and sheathed her knife back into her boot (it was a little too big on her foot, so it made the best hiding spot) and pushed her hair away from her eyes. It was very pale, almost as pale as the little seedling, her hair, but all the grime and dust in it changed the color to a mist-grey. If it were clean, it'd be as bright and white as ... well, whiter than anything else, actually.

Even skeletons were not so white, without the sun to bleach the bones. Oh, what Blue wouldn't give for just a cup of clear water- although she'd probably drink it, not waste it on her hair.

Then again, she'd probably come back here to this deserted lot and give it to the seedling.


[lame post, but it's late. and I decided that Blue gets her titular color.]

 

[Ordeith]

"They must pay for what they have done......they must die with the planet..." Aelfus stood atop the weathered steel frame of what was once a...."skyscraper", the monuments constructed by humans to flaunt their wealth and power, a symbol of humanity's greed. His cloak fluttered slightly in the putrid breeze, spreading the scent of death throughout the vicinity. The gangly man glared down upon the people below with hatred as he muttered to himself, "They all deserve this, and more; death and suffering is their reward." And he was sure that they would receive it.

At long last, the day had come; the day that the followers of Terra Aparattus would show themselves, and more importanly, their foul idol, the supposed "Salvation of Earth". Aelfus's chapped lips opened in a wide grin, the first one he had beared since as far as he could remember. This day, the human race's last hope of salvation from this living hell would be crushed, and every one of them would pay for the suffering they had caused. Soon, they would come. Soon, they would die. All Aelfus had to do was wait.

Aelfus continued to look down, never once blinking; he saw the crowds of weary believers flocking from all around, just to catch a glimpse of the book. Bile rose in his throat just thinking about them. This is humanity: a greedy, undeserving pack of louts, placing themselves at the center of everything, and never giving a care to the world which they had condemned to this horrid fate. The followers of the book claimed to place this "holy" artifact at the utmost importance, but Aelfus knew the truth. The only reason that Terra Aparattus was held in such reverence was because it was the one chance these cretins had to return to power, which, in the end, was all they truly cared for, seeking more and more, until they eventually exhausted all of their resources, leaving them in ruin. "And that is where they shall stay."

 

[The King]

Rei lay on the floor of his old worn out shack. The only place he could call home. The only place he felt safe in this lonely dark world. With each heavy breath he drew in thick tainted. It was almost suffocating him. He had just finished his routine workout. As he stood the sweat fell from his face. Almost stumbling he pressed himself against the wall for support. Slowly he made his way to what he called his "kitchen" Even though his "home" was basically one room. Hanging from the ceiling from a string was a small canteen. He reached out and grabbed it but tumbled to the floor as he did so. Holding onto the canteen for dear life he fell onto his side and rolled onto his back.

"Ah!" He removed the cap from the canteen and moved it to his mouth. There was only enough water for one swallow. He through it in anger as and began to get back on his feet. Shaking his head trying to concentrate he looked around the room. "I'm fine....I'll be fine" He told himself. Taking one last deep breath he stood completely straight upwards. "Man Its been a while since I worked so hard." He took a small cloth from an old wooden chair that sat in the corner of the room and wiped his face. His body was still shaking as he put his robes back on. Grabbing his hatchet and his sling shot he made his way from his shack. The wind blew a horrible stench his way and he flinched. "What a great way to start the day asshole. Well it only get's better now." He smirked and took his first step towards town, towards friends, towards life, towards Terra Aparatus.

OOC: Omg My brain went so numb

 

[Tobuoi]

Mahdi: Mahdi left the tent, shoving the large flap entryway from her. It wasn't her tent, but a friend's...one who thought that she was using it to make clothes or shoes, not a forbidden machine. Yes, Mahdi had constructed a gun. Well, not completely. In fact, she was headed off to the junkyard to find more parts for it, now. Still, her sin that was once merely an object had flourished into an act.

Mahdi made her way through the village, greeting those she knew as she went. She was fortunate enough to have grown up in a more prosperous village, considering the circumstances. In her years, it seemed to Mahdi that those who were better-off held a deeper faith in the Book than those who were homeless and dying. Was this truly the will of Terra Aparattus? Or did their faith simply give them a sense of self-righteousness and tenacity? Mahdi was never entirely sure what Terra Aparattus was supposed to be, anyway. Well, she knew that it was really a great machine, hidden away and preserved so that it may one day restore the planet. At least, that's what she hoped. But what did its followers believe it to be? What did "Terra Aparattus" even mean? Mahdi sometimes wondered if it was words from one of the many languages that many of the older people had told her about, as a child. No one spoke them, though. Just English. Mahdi wondered if any of those elders knew any words from these forgotten languages. Of course, it didn't matter, now. They were dead.

There was a long, desolate path that led from the village, through the village's tiny produce field, to the junkyard. As she walked, Mahdi pulled her sleeves down from her elbows in attempt to keep warm. The wind blew from behind her, tossing her black hair in front of her face, but she kept her head down. While it was not entirely unusually to take trips to the junkyard, any indication of a plan of sorts would surely draw attention from nosy, simple-minded villagers. If anyone should stumble across her path, Mahdi would tell them that she was off to look for supplies for gifts to give to the church, tomorrow.

She finally reached her destination after some time. She could still see the village, but it was undoubtedly ten or fifteen minutes of walking away. The junkyard mainly consisted of forgotten artifacts considered to have no prominent use, but so long as an object was considered safe and in keeping with the Book, it was left there, for anyone to take. Considering the gross outnumbering of things to people, there were rarely any disputes over who got what. Food and clean water were the top priority in every village.

As Mahdi began to dig, she came across something that intrigued her: a spring. She did not know it as such, but rather, a "coil". Yet, unlike the coils made of mud and clay to make pottery, this one bent. After toying with it for a moment, she pocketed it and continued to rummage through one of the many piles.

 

[Keyblade Smitey]

Rain beat down heavily on the lone man's hooded head as he he placed one leaden, weary foot in front of the other. Thankfully, it was not the acidic filth that sometimes fell from the sky, so the simple leather was enough to protect him. He looked up from his stupor and peered into the greyness that surrounded him. A little way ahead was his destination; a small, squalid dwelling, with smoke leaking from the thatch that overed the damp roof. The hooded figure squared his shoulders and trudged on, shifting the weight of the heavy pack on his back. His boots slurped disgustingly in the mud and by his side, something gave a metalic click and the shadowed face beneath the hood, seemed to become even harder, if that were even possible.

He shouldered the door of the house open, not bothering to knock. Inside a number of people clustered around a few tables, nursing rough clay cups of something foul-smelling. In the center of the room, a wizzened of crone of at least 40 tended a open fire pit that gave off the pungent reek of something that was certainly not honest wood. Behind a poorly-constructed table of rusty scrap iron, a pock-marked man was pouring more drinks for a couple of men. At the stranger's entrance, the entire bar froze, clearly startled by the presence of an outsider. The hooded man's eyes sweapt the crowd, until they settled on the face of one man, perched on a stool in the corner, sweating profusely. The stranger made his way over, his strides long and implacable. He halted before the sweating man, one hand beneath his heavy cape. "Peter Golsen," he said, his tone not so much a question as an accusation.
The man swallowed and forced himself to meet the tall outsider's grey eyes, "Y-yes, my lord?"
"Four days past you assaulted a servant of the church, stealing from him food and supplies. You are to answer for your crimes," he paused and added with terrible finality, "And your sins."
Peter collapsed to his knees and clasped his hands as if in prayer, looking up pleadingly at the stranger, "P-please, my lord! My wife, my children! They were starv..." He stopped with a strangled moan as the stranger slid a long, grey sword from its scabard beneath his cloak.
"Better to die than live in sin. On your feet so that you may face judgement."
With the sudden desperation of a man with nothing to loose, Peter snatched the stool from behind him and hurled it at the stranger's face, "You'll never take me alive, filth!" he screamed, leaping for the fire pit.
The sword smote the chair from the air before it hit its target, "Good. That was never the plan," scowled the stranger, reaching beneath his coat again and turning to follow the fugative's movements. Snatching a blazing brand from the fire and sending the other patrons scuttling, Peter hurled the brand at the stranger, tossing his drink after it. The alcoholic beverage ignited with a soft 'whomph' when it struck the burning branch, turning into a fireball aimed square at the hooded man's head. The man payed it no mind however, pullign something from beneath his cloak, leveling it square at the fireball. Just as the last of the fuel burned out in the fireball, leaving nothing but a foul-smelling cloud, the metal tube in the stranger's hand let out a sharp, horrible bark and Peter's head jerked back sharply, as if struck by increadable force. Blood fountained from a hole that had appeared in his forehead suddenly and he fell backwards into the fire pit, unmoving as the rags that served as his clothes caught fire.

The horrible smell of burning meat filled the shack, as Saul Templar pushed back his hood and looked about again, his eyes settling on the old woman who had tended the fire. "Wood does not give such black smoke," he said, sheathing his sword and replacing the strange device beneath his cloak, "Nor does it burn so hot, or smell so evil." His gloved hand flashed out, grabbing the old woman by her lanky, grey hair and dragging her out into the rain. The other patrons clustered at the door in morbid fasination as Saul hurled the screaming, terrified woman to the muddy ground and pinning her there with one foot on her back. Saul reached into his pack with one hand over his shoulder, pulling out a dull iron spike, roughly a foot and a half long. "Suffer not pollution's presence," he intoned, reciting passages he had learned by heart, through long, long hours. Passages that guided him and all other faithful on this forsaken planet. Words from the holy book itself, the Terra Aparattus. He kicked the old woman onto her back, ignoring her pleas for mercy, "Spike the wheel," he said, kneeling across her chest and raising the spike high above his head, "And stop the motion!" he drove the spoke down, puching through skin and muscle and bone, through the crone's heart. With a final scream of agony, she lay still. Saul rose and raised his hood again, turning to the aghast onlookers, "Let this serve as a warning," he said, "To all who would profain the churches' teachings. Only through faith and purity can you be saved. Those who would break the creed of the Terra Aparattus," he motioned to the old woman's muddy, blood-stained corpse, "Will recieve no mercy." He turned and walked away, the clouds above ceasing their downpour at long last, although no blue could be seen beyond the bleak grey-black expanse. Saul did not even notice. Even in a drought, his world was forever raining. he marched on, towards the distant city that stood as a testament to the ancient's folly. Towards his destination and his superiors. Towards the holy book and his next mission. Towards the Terra Aparattus.

OOC: What do you think? It's not often I play the bad guy, I hope it came out okay...

 

[Ordeith]

A murmer grew among the vast throngs of worshippers as the archibishop and his entourage arrived on the scene, looking down upon the unwashed faces of the impoverished congregation with a superior air, almost arrogance, as they knelt before the book as it passed with unquestioning reverence. The moment had almost come. By that time, Aelfus was among the crowd, wrapping himself with his cloak as much as possible so as to remain inconspicuous, for while such deformations weren't uncommon nowadays, one could never be too careful. The elongated, almost snakelike man stood at the edge of the masses, so as to be positioned as far away from the archbishop as possible, at the steps of the chapel, the only building that was kept in fairly good condition. The entire time, his eyes never left the archbishop; even in this hellish era, humanity continues to flaunt its greed. While this ancient man, who seemed as though he might die on the spot, donned lavish robes of the most exceptional make and material, somewhere a malnourished infant cried out as the sharp toxic wind lashed against its sickly, unclothed body. Aelfus knew, because he had been that infant, once.

Slowly, but ever-so-surely, the archbishop made his way towards the edge of the crowd surrounding the chapel. The cluster of robed men grew nearer, at last reaching the chapel. A feeling of disgust, as well as a near-undeniable urge to slay the archbishop on the spot, ran through Aelfus's mind as he compelled himself to kneel before the vile tome, the thing that would, if left unstopped, return humanity to its undeserving seat of power. That wasn't about to happen. The doors of the chapel, made of the finest, purest wood, groaned open, as the throng of people eagerly spurred on, so it could experience the decadel honor of a ceremony with the presence of the "Most Holy Book of All Books". But if Aelfus's plans bore fruit, neither the archbishop nor the book would leave the chapel in one piece.

 

[The King]

Rei made his way down the long path to his village. The weather constantly changed with each step. Do to the atmosphere of the planet the weather never seemed to stay the same for a long period of time. He pulled his hood over his head and moved his cloths to cover most of his face. He knew he was much closer as he made it just past the junkyard. He had never been there. He had always thought things there was just, well junk. And no use to him. He could here things being tossed around beyond the gate but he kept on his path towards the village.

He had been in deep thought about his past, his present, and possible future. He remembered the night his parents passed and how he received his scar.
Flames surrounded me. It was so hard to breath. That beam had came down on me and knocked me to the floor. Leaving this horrible mark. It was so hard to move the flaming log from my body. But I used all the strength i had in me. I searched about a total of five minutes before i found my mom trapped behind a pile of burning ruble. But there was no hope in saving her, it was just so hot and i was so weak. Tears flowed from her eyes as she told me my father had passed already. She told me to get out. Run. Live on and have a better life....

Rei's thoughts came to a halt as his foot fell into a small hole in the ground "AH!" He glanced down and noticed that his foot had sank pretty deep. He slowly pulled it out and many bugs scurried around as he did. He knocked them all away and continued on his path. "Just a little further."

 

[DarkHeart63]

The dry ground crunched as Hied fell upon it, exhausted from walking for so long without a break. He tipped his head back and took in the sickening air, which somehow had not claimed him as just another victim. That was when Hied remembered what he had in his pocket, and took out a small container full of water.
Despite the state the world was in, Hied had managed to find one small river that seemed to have a stronger will than the rest of nature and remained preserved, even if the water running through it was a little murky. Hied sipped from the vial, not wanting the refreshing experience to end. Before he got too carried away, he snapped the water away from his lips, remembering that he should reserve it for both washing and drinking.
As Hied heaved himself back up, he saw a small boy- around 7 or so years old- run past and rest on a dying tree. He looked about as tired as Hied was, and was breathing quite heavily. As selfless as he was, Hied knew what to do.

"Hey, kid?" Hied shouted to him.
"Huh? What yoo want?" the kid replied, his English obviously not that good.
"You look tired, have a sip of this," Hied shouted back, chucking the water to him. The boy's eyes lit up, as he screwed off the lid and drank from the vial. Hied smiled at the boy's relieved face as he finished, and walked over to him at the tree. "So, what yah running for?" Hied asked as he retrieved the container.
"Well, my town has, err... You know, dat book? Dera... Tara..."
Suddenly, Hied realised what it was. "Wait... The Terra Aparattus?" Hied corrected the boy at the same time as asking.
"Dat it! Terer Aparates!" the boy said excitedly. "Dat book dat can help us! Yoo want come?"

Hied wondered to himself. He wondered exactly how these people could be reeled in so easily by what someone said, even without the proof of it being true. Hied also wondered something else- where there's the book, there's the "government".
"Wow, the Terra Aparattus... Sure, I'll come!" Hied said, trying to sound almost as excited as his companion. "By the way, my name's Hied. And you are...?"
"Rinks! My name Rinks!" the boy answered, looking up and smiling at the towering Hied.
"Nice to meet you Rinks! Now, where's this town?"

 

[Morpheaus]

This should get Tobuoi off my back for the weekend. Not that she weighs enough to really inconvenience me...

An insistent splash of foul, amber colored water against his bare chest pulled Jefe from a fitful sleep. He stirred slowly, refusing to open his eyes in an attempt to salvage a moment’s peace before confronting the day. As usual, the memories of his nightmares were already slipping away. It was a gift he was not at all thankful for. Sometimes the heart twisting guilt which accompanied those nightmares made it easier to ignore the boiling of his stomach and the cold in his bones.

Rolling onto hands and knees, Jefe crawled from beneath the dripping water out into the stark gray light of day. This particular junk yard was much larger than others which he’d visited, but that was a good sign. People knew these places to be filled with shadows and sins, and the larger they were the more evil they contained. No one would come here for quite some time.

Jefe only hoped to remain undisturbed long enough to observe the procession the Book. Normally he would attempt follow directly behind the procession, keeping silent watch; however, of late there had been many attempts by the church to discourage him. And when those attempts had failed, men were sent to hunt for him. He was now forced to travel some days ahead of the Book, pausing only long enough to observe the procession’s visitation ceremonies.

Jefe scratched absently at a patch of scabrous skin along his neckline and noted that the sky was at its brightest. The procession’s impending arrival made him anxious, so he scratched more vigorously. Stooping over to retrieve his staff, he ignored the fresh blood collecting beneath his fingernails and proceeded forward, still digging away at his skin.

 

[Keyblade Smitey]

OOC: Strikes me I should probably make good on my word and update more frequently than this. Lead by example and all that... /OOC

Saul leapt cleanly from the broken slab of stone onto the rusted pipe below. His movements were not what could be considered graceful, but none the less, they were solid, dependable and precise. Never once in five years had he lost his footing, even when threading through the ruins of the ancient city that served as his home. Aeons past it had been abandoned and fallen into ruin, great underground pipes, now coated by a thick red rust, lay bare in craters, blasted by centuries-old accidents. The city was a wasteland and perhaps it was for that very reason that the church had constructed a shrine here; a carefully calculated move to remind humanity from what it had fallen and for what reason. Saul took the back streets, the ones that meandered and twisted. Anyone else would be hopelessly lost, facing dead ends formed by crevaces that reached down into the strange tunnels the ancients dug beneath their cities, or stymied by piles of debris and rubble that blocked off what had been a busy throughfare in the distant past. Saul however, had committed each and every twist and turn to memory with a dedication few could match. He knew the city like the back of his own hand, consequently it only took him minutes to reach the small chapel, arriving just moments before the beautiful wooden doors closed.

Saul slipped in behind the congregation, keeping his head low and sliding over to a meticulously nondescript priest in his early thrities, wearing a hooded, white habbit. "Blessings of the book, Father," murmered Saul in a voice so quiet, none but the priest and himself could hear it, "Two more heretics are clensed."
"Blessings of the book, my Son," replied the priest, in a voice as unremarkable as his appearance, "Tell me, what was the second one's sin?"
"She burned the unholy subastance abhored by the teachings. She was terminated as a deviant pollution engine in accordance with the tenets."
"Be at peace, my Son. Your actions were just. There is no taint in you."
"Thank you, Father. What task has the church for me next?" Saul's hand subconsciously tightened around the hilt of his sword as he spoke. Father James, as ordinary as he might look, was in fact Saul's direct superior. A killer of frightening power, Father James excelled in dispatching polluters quietly and covertly, in a direct mirror of Saul's own, brutaly direct, methods. Saul knew that beneath his robes, Father James had at least three knives and a variety of other death-dealing implements on his person, as befitted the head of the inquisition.
"Peace, my son," said the Father, "Your next task can wait. Take your place at the head of the congregation. The blessed Archbishop is about to begin his sermon. We will speak later."
Bowing his head, Saul stepped away, threading his way through the crowd with no more impact than a shadow, no-one noticing his presence. Emerging at the front of the group, Saul bent his knee to the stone floor of the chapel and was silent as he let the Archbishop's opening words wash over him.

 

[Siren]

Alexandre rubbed his hand against the rough metal of a nearby car, a remnant of the time before machines were outlawed. He was in a junk yard, a grave yard, a back yard. The metal was rusted, warped, twisted. Everything in sets of three; that's the way that Alexandre liked it. When it came to women, how many had he been with? Three. How many times had he gotten into a fight that wasn't too serious? Twenty-seven times. How many people had he killed?

Well, the last is a mystery.

You see, Alexandre is a middle-aged man, now. He's going through his mid-life crisis, and without a red sports car it just wasn't the same experience. Sure, he had the should-be trophy wife. Yes, you read that correctly; should-be. His wife was absolutely opposed to having children, and most certainly wouldn't act in the normal wife's matter. No, she would be resisting the whole time, and he would never get a single sandwich out of her. Walking through the junkyard, he was trying to relieve the disappointment.

Of course, as fate would have it, he would run into this should- be wife, this woman, this...irrational human being.

"Hi, Mahdi".

 

[Morpheaus]

Look, look! It's an RP that goes nowhere! But seriously, this could probably be attributed to the amount of damage we've done to the ecosystem. It even lacks the ability to sustain a storyline. How ghastly.

 

[Keyblade Smitey]

Don't look at me! I WANT this RP to continue! It's got the potential to go a long way! So if the others don't start posting NOW I'm comming to find them with a goddam baseball bat! Grrrrrr >

 

[Tobuoi]

(Psst! You guys are bad. You're supposed to post that stuff in the OOC thread...: P)

Mahdi: Mahdi was attempting to keep her balance in the tall pile of trash as she was reaching up for a scrap that looked particularly useful. However, when she was inches away from obtaining it, a voice from behind startled her, causing Mahdi to loose her footing and slip forward into the collection metal and glass. Sure enough, sooner than she could comprehend, a piece of broken glass went into the side of her hand. She rolled over, so that she was more-or-less sitting on the ground with her back against the trash.

Mahdi clutched her bleeding hand, angrily.

"Dammit, Alexandre!"

She exhaled heavily, conjuring all her will power, and then...

Mahdi plucked the thick chunk of glass from her bloody hand. "What do you want?" she irratably asked this twenty-some-year-old man who she would inevitably be married to, assuming she didn't die, first, from some dreadful infection as a result of her freshly-made cut. Which may as well have been his fault.

Supporting her weight on the hand that wasn't hurt, Mahdi stood up, holding the cut hand to her chest. She looked down at it and sighed. "I should probably clean this out," she muttered. She looked up at Alexandre and asked, "You don't have anything I can wrap this with, do you?"

Mahdi's feelings for Alexandre were...complex, to say the least. He was her safest and most secure option. It wasn't only her mother who recognized this. He was healthy, and as well-off as they come, and good-looking, to boot. Mahdi didn't know what exactly he wanted to do with her, but she did know that she was lucky. Whether or not appreciation for her situation was adecquate was questionable. But who could blame her? She had a mission and she was determined to see it to its finish.

 

[Ordeith]

The archbishop walked slowly up the steps to the altar, tome in hand. His gait was so slow not because of reverence for the book, nor because of his impressive age, but so the huddled masses of impoverished worshippers could feast their envious eyes upon his lavish robes and jewelry, all of them wishing so desperately that they could merely finger one of the beautiful trinkets, or let just one unwashed, calloused hand to brush against the fine material of his robes. Aelfus didn't require such things; material possessions such as those would make himself the very thing he hated most. He scowled behind the cowl of his cloak, which he was sure he would be asked to lower in a few minutes; these priests didn't allow the rules to be bent for anyone.

About half an hour into the ceremony, after Aelfus had lowered his hood and slowly edged his way towards the altar, the avaricious archbishop, surrounded by his priest cronies, held the Terra Aparattus up high for the congregation to see, while reciting a lengthy blessing to them all. The moment had come. Aelfus slid carefully over to where he could best see the archbishop, and readied to strike. Just then, a surge of worshippers pushed him out of his desirable position, wanting to get a glance of the vile tome they worshipped so unquestionably. Not wanting to cause any fuss, Aelfus allowed himself to be pushed back. However, he could not find another suitable spot from which to strike. By this time, the moment had past, and all he could do was wait in patience once more. But the opportune moment never came again. Aelfus made a mental note to track down every one of those impatient worshippers, and string their intestines upon their rotten corpses. But that mattered little now. Now, he would have to follow the archbishop around to the next village, a very dangerous action indeed, as such things were highly frowned upon by the Church. But perhaps this would prove worth the wait; the next village was incredibly small in comparison to the city, making the destruction of the book a much easier task. "You live to preach another day, Lord Bishop....and not a single day more."