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International Events / Re: The Freedom War
« Last post by guest121 on July 21, 2018, 05:41:05 pm »
Henry grabbed the knife out of Atvulf’s hand, flipping it so that he held the flat of the blade. He offered the handle to a nervous Tsubaki, who graciously, if cautiously, accepted the sharp, dangerous weapon, testing out its weight with a few imprecise flicks.

Atvulf threw his hands, abandoning the argument. ”Fine, yeh’ frackin’ dumber than a sac of mule sh*t, lettin’ a f*ckin’ girly fake bein’ a man. Gonna git us killed, but won’ git me killed! Yeh problem, not mine.”

The attack party spread out along the earthen rise, each carefully moving behind their respective targets with Atvulf careful to position himself as far away from a anxious Tsubaki as he could. Xander nervously rolled his flashlight club in his hands, sticky sweat beginning to stain his various bodily pits and unintentionally lubricate his weapon. His breathing, heavy and labored, began to speed up rapidly until he became mindful of it, ending the increase with several long, deep breaths. He looked up, barely peering up above the earthen rise at his quarry, his prey or his killer.

The metallic chrome of the murderous monster shone brightly in the afternoon sun, a glint of superheated light reflected directly back into Xanders eyes, blinding him. He turned away, blinking the salty tears of pain from his eyes, endeavoring to wipe the sweat from his brow. A motion to the left of him.

Xander turned his head leftward. Henry, tightly wound, singled to the rest off them, a quick striking motion with his free hand. It was time.

Xander followed suit with his friends, slowly creeping forward, mindful of each step upon the loose, muddy forest ground. Up, over the rise, senses tightened as loose dirt was shook loose by their scaling. Had they heard their approach? No, the metal monsters continued their murderous assault upon the base defenders unabated, oblivious to the slowly ensnaring trap.

One step forward. Look up. Another step forward. Look up again. No change. One final snap, a twig **** beneath Xander’s boot. He froze, sweat now pouring profusely all over his body form a thick, sticky coat, an unending river of salty seepage, his eyes twitching, blinking unendingly.

No change.

Still good.

Xander, breathed in, a deep, silent inhale of crisp, forest smells, mixing, churning with the noxious fumes of the base airfield, with burning ash and lost hopes. Xander shouted, a mighty, ferocious, blood-curdling roar as the war drums of adrenaline rushed into his mind, his soul, invoking his inner warrior as he raised and brought down his flashlight club with his full strength upon the monstrosities back.


The club bounced off near-harmlessly, leaving little but a deep dent into the Metalhead’s armor plating. Ineffective. The beast turned violently back towards Xander, clearly aware of the threat it now faced. For a brief moment, the beast paused, analyzing the situation with impossible speed and accuracy.

A metal spike shot out from a hidden sheath in its right appendage, razor sharp, a weapon which could slice through Xander’s grimy skin with ease. Xander looked wildly between it and the Metalhead, who would move first.

Xander feinted right, then leaned in madly flailing his makeshift club in a desperate attempt to fell his foe, up and down, missing the beast as it avoided his strikes with mechanical precision.

The Metalhead raised its weaponized appendage skyward, a strike imminent. No time to dodge, Xander instinctively, desperately raised his left arm to shield himself from the coming blow.

”ARGH!” Xander roared in pain as the metal weapon sliced first through Xander’s pilfered jacket, next through skin and sinew, finally stopped by his forearm’s bone. Fresh, hot waves of pain seared through his arm, excruciating, disabling pain. Xander jerked back his arm, removing it from the blade of his deadly foe.

As he removed the blade, blood spewed forth from his arm, un-dammed by the weapon’s removal, staining his jacket and the ground beneath, a fresh pool of crimson fluids flooding the underlying ground. His arm went numb suddenly, all sensation gone. Useless, but no longer a hindrance.

Xander shouted once more, a roaring battle cry as he screamed for himself, for his life, for his will to live. He would live. He wanted to live.

He dived downward as the beast swiped through the air above which he had recently occupied, whipping, cutting the wind itself and a few of his loose hairs along with it. Wielding his club in his one functional hand, Xander hooked the rim of the flashlights head behind one of the Metalheads legs and yanked. Hard.

Unbalanced, the Metalhead toppled, unable to regain its footing upon the blood-stained ground, raising a small cloud of dirt into the atmosphere, choking Xander’s lungs.

Its head. It was open.

Screaming, roaring, Xander drew back his good arm and slammed it upon the Metalheads head. A crack upon its armored faceplate erupted like dendritic web. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Once more Xander drew back his arm and smashed it downward with his full weight and might upon the beast. Again. Once more. Again. Again. Again. Soon Xander lost track, lost sense of reality, lost in the bloodlust as the organic pulp he crushed with each successive blow into an even less recognizable mess continued to paint black droplets of viscus fluid upon his face, dripping downward, streaking, with each mighty strike.




Xander halted his brutal assault upon the featureless corpse. It was dead. He could stop. He exhaled sharply, exhuming stale breath from his lungs and reabsorbing fresh air. He had stopped breathing, held his breath unintentionally. Now he panted heavily, attempting, unsuccessfully, to restore his resting homeostasis. He had won.

Xander stumbled backwards, raising his good arm to wipe the alien fluids from his eyes, clearing his vison as he panted continuously. How were the others? Xander looked around wildly, watching his allies grabble their targets to varying degrees of success.

”Help!” A desperate, forced cry.

Xander turned sharply to the sound. Mikey lay, back in the mud, upon the ground with a Metalhead perched above him, one armored boot placed firmly upon his chest, crushing and pinning him. Xander watched as the monster raised its bladed appendage to strike at the downed man.

A flash of movement out of the corner of Xander’s eye.

Xander turned instinctively, watching in horror as Tsubaki and her quarry toppled in a jumbled mass, the Metalhead atop her. Her knife had been ripped from her hands and lay imbedded into the creature’s side, painful, but clearly doing little to slow the beast’s assault. He observed in horror as the Metalhead drew back its blade, aiming for Tsubaki’s throat as she thrashed in a desperate attempt to evade.

Two in need of help, but only Xander remained available to support.

Choice 9 (Strength: Strong)

A: Help Mikey.

B: Help Tsubaki.

International Events / Re: The Freedom War
« Last post by guest100 on July 21, 2018, 05:31:29 pm »
Xander looked from Tsubaki to Atvulf weighing in the possibilities that she may die, or that they may die without her. Finally making his decision he gave Atvulf a stern look, "Give her the knife, Henry's right we need all the help we can get, and even if she does mess up I'd prefer we all died together than just leaving her alive, to fend for herself."
International Events / Re: The Freedom War
« Last post by guest121 on July 12, 2018, 07:42:18 pm »
His eyes downcast, Henry grabbed a pebble from the rocky road, examining it, before flicking it into the grave as Xander concluded with his brief eulogy.

”I,…“ Henry begins, words caught deep within his throat.

Henry turned his eyes downward, ashamed, returning to covering his grisly self-afflicted task. One last, final flick of his spade, and one final layer of musty mountain soil was lain upon the now hidden bundle, forever lost except to the few who remained to remember.

”I think we’re done here.“ Henry murmured near inaudibly.


The remaining trio of Xander, Henry, and Tsubaki finished the remaining climb down the mountain face along the winding dirt road. As the rusting, abandoned cars thinned and ceased upon their trek, they could make out the sight of their familiar armored van, waiting idly by for their arrival. Outside however, a lone figure waited.

”Ye’ took ye’ blasted time. Daylights wasting you idiots, unless you wanna be out roasting our bums whilst the Metalheads find us in the night eh? What took ye so long anyhow? Just drop the body in a pit and be done with the sodding thing.” Atvulf called impatiently as they approached.

”It’s not as simple as that,… you just can’t… nevermind, you wouldn’t understand.” Henry looked away.

”No, I understand ye kind perfectly, you suicidal sentimental f*cks,” Atvulf reached down and grabbed a large, smooth rock from the road, hefted it in his hand to test its weight, and flung it into the surrounding forest. ”BOOYAH SCORE! I think I hits me a polecat!” Atvulf shouted excitedly, ”Night’s meal on me how bout-wait, I think I just stunned it. Sh*t.” Atvulf reached down to grab another stone.

”Stop,” Henry put his hand on Atvulf’s arm, ”That’s enough. Like you said, we need to get going.” Atvulf simply shrugged and returned his hand to his pocket.


The survivors pilled back into their armored van once more, reluctant to return to the road and the perils it thrust upon them. Unconsciously, they nearly identically resumed their previous seating arrangement: Henry at the wheel, tired but determined, Atvulf the obnoxious backseat driver with an ever silent Tsubaki aside, and Xander watchful and tense in the front passenger seat.

They drove relatively silently, an awkward air of terse gloom as the boredom of the drive and the painful memories of the past foray up the mountain let their minds wander internally, only broken by the odd crack as the heavy armored van snapped fallen twigs beneath its tires as it moved onward underneath the forest canopy.

”Wait,… isn’t this that intersection,” Henry broke the silence amongst the survivors, ”That one with the police checkpoint?”

”Er,… sure looks like it. Speed up, git us out of ‘ere swift.”

”But the officers might still be here. We need to warn them that the camp is gone.”

”Don’t be drugin up dat sh*t again, just keep goin’.”

Henry put his foot down on the break, slowing the armored van down to a stop just outside of the intersection ahead. ”We’re not like that, you should know that. Come on.” Atvulf snorted and stayed seated.

Henry turned to Xander. ”Okay, us then.”

The pair stepped out from the armored van. Ahead, the clearing was much as it was the day earlier, an intersection between dirt roads in dire need of repair. The leaves in the canopy above rustled in the light breeze, an incoherent jingle of nature.

Henry pointed ahead. ”Xander, was their car in that ditch yesterday?”

Xander looked ahead towards the car. Indeed, the police squad car that the rangers had been using yesterday lay rear up a distance ahead, hood down in an earthen ditch, dented and scratched by the impact, abandond. The driver side door lay ajar, standing skyward like some metal totem. Deep ruts had been cut into the dirt road, as if someone had attempted to quickly and forcefully drive the car away only to crash unintentionally into the ditch along the road.

”Xander, come here, check this out.” Henry called nervously.

Xander apprehensively approached a kneeling Henry, leaning to examine what he pointed to. A thick, viscous puddle, a crimson fluid, filled a shallow depression in the earthen road. A few drops of the liquid lay splattered outside of the puddle, giving the dirt road an artistic flavor.

Henry turned to Xander, eyes filled with knowing, and shook his head.

”Let’s get going.”

The two turned back towards the van and made a speedy egress. Slamming the doors shut, Atvulf called disinterestly from the back.

”Yeh find the f*ckers?”

”Not quite.” Henry responded, clearly shaken, a slight tremor to his voice.

”Wat,” Atvulf pushed, his voice raising, ”sumtin’ happen? ‘Cause I’m good to give those arseholes a good lickin’”

”No, nothing. We’re leaving.”

”Seriously, don’t be lyin’ to me now, ‘cause-“

”We’re leaving. End of discussion.”

Henry floored the armored van forward, speeding away from the dirt intersection, following the road towards the military base that had been indicated to them by the rangers yesterday, leaving behind the mysterious puddle and crashed patrol car and the horrors they foretold. 


As Henry sped onward, the van moving increasingly faster so that the terrain blurred and smeared around them, an impressionistic canvas of forest greens, woody browns, and harsh mid-afternoon light, Xander felt something digging into his foot. A dull pain, more uncomfortable than anything, Xander undid the laces of the mud-caked black boot upon his right foot. Lifting upwards, Xander shook the boot slightly with his hand outstretched underneath, a small, gray, dusty pebble fell out of his boot and into his open palm. Placing his boot once more back upon the armored vans carpeted floor, he examined the extraordinarily ordinary little rock. Smooth, nondescript, and covered in dusty grime, the pebble must have fallen into his boot when he last exited the vehicle with Henry. Xander contemplated holding onto the obnoxious little stone, even going so far as to almost place it into his stolen coats pocket for no other reason but that he could but stopped before he could let it slide into the coat’s abyss. Rolling down the armored vans window, he pulled back his arm, and flung the nuisance into the heavily wooded forest.


An odd sound reached Xander’s ears. A ping, the sound of something hard hitting metal? In a forest?

Xander looked upward as Henry slowed the armored van to a sudden, dusty stop. A rusted metal sign, battered and dented, hanging by one loose bolt, lay flat across a long, chain-link fence, bent and broken in numerous links, that stretched into the depths of the forest beyond. Xander tilted his head, squinting through the sudden dust cloud the van has arose from the dirt path beneath.

“Aienclad Aviation Base” the weathered sign read as Xander deciphered the heavily eroded letters. The survivors had arrived.

Xander looked forward along the road. Ahead, the road was barricaded by a military style checkpoint, a gray wooded guardhouse, paint peeling and flaking, several sets of sandbags arranged in semicircles facing the dirt road with small tears blemishing their canvas so that their sandy innards mixed with the earthen ground below, and a flimsy red and white boom gate across the expanse of the road. Or rather, was formally barricaded. Several neat holes permeated the glass panes of the guardhouse, whilst the boom gate failed in its intended purpose and lay smashed to splinters, strewn haphazardly upon the ground. Two corpses added a finishing touch to the chaotic battlefield remnants: one flung atop the sandbags off to right side of the gate so that his coagulated blood stained the loose sand, giving it an earthen, artistic vibe, another nearly hidden by the guardhouse walls, his brown military boots sprouting from the posts’ doorway, the only visible indicator of its grisly contents.

”Look like sum tin’ done f*cked sh*t up ‘ere” Atvulf began from the back as he to observed the carnage. ”How ‘bouts we skedaddle then? Not our problem.”

”Shh, listen,” Henry responded. The survivors quickly quieted themselves. In the distance, loud shouts and rapid gunfire echoed mutedly to them.

”They need help. We’re going.” Henry stated firmly.

”Not over that there rubble, unless yeh aimin’ to blow out yeh tires,” Atuvlf quickly countered, ”Look.”

Henry and Xander followed his finger to where he pointed. There, lying underneath the remains of the splintered boom gate, road spikes protruded from the ground, a menace to both the barefooted and unsuspecting vehicle tires. 

Henry shrugged loosely, ”Then we walk. Get out, and grab anything useful.”


Xander, Henry, Atvulf, Tsubaku, and, after some cajoling from Atvulf, Mikey, trudged onwards on to the airbase grounds in a loose, disorderly fashion, following the dirt road to its conclusion. As they drew closer to the central base area, the roaring, rapid-fire rattle of automatic weapons and the metallic pinging as they found their marks grew louder and more defined.

”Git down!” Atvulf hissed at the group as he flopped prone upon the ground behind a gentle rise in the dirt. The others quickly followed suit, viscous mud clinging disgustingly to their chests. Xander brushed a muddy drop from his cheek with one hand, before slowly crawling to where Atvulf lay.

”Peek yeh head over, but be quiet abouts it unless yeh aimin’ to git ur head knocked off.” Atvulf murmured over his shoulder, his eyes still fixed upon the scene ahead.

Xander carefully moved up the rise, warry of every sound he made, a crunch of dried, fallen leaves, the heavy sound of his panting. Slowly, he observed the scene ahead.
Ahead, their backs turned to Xander and the other survivors, five mechanical monstrosities stood tall, stretched out in a uniform, equidistant line, firing indiscriminately into the airfield beyond. Humanoid in shape, metallic implants coated their machines bodies, tough metal armor and other unknown apparatus whose purpose could only be diabolic. Several defenders sprinted in the distance, attempting to use utilize abandoned vehicles and crates strewn haphazardly as impromptu cover, returning fire at the monsters when they could spare, to little effect. Still more lay prone, unmoving upon the ground. 

The group, finished observing and daring not a second more, slid back down the incline and conferred.

”What are those things?” Henry asked puzzled.

”They the goddamn Metalheads, yeh sootie idiot. Didn’ ye see them when ye were fleeing?” Atvulf answered

”Er, no, just the flying drone thingies. Those are the ‘Metalheads’?”

”Honestly, you a hankerin’ for a hitten’ with how many goddamn times I need repeat myself. Yes. Mikey and I,” Atvulf paused to fist-bump Mikey who dutifully complied, ”Killed us a good half-dozen of those suckers for ourselves a while back. Told ye already ain’ I?”

Mikey nodded. ”Hell yeah brother, but dem Metalheads tougher than Uncle Ron’s stomach full of bacon. I shots them like 20 times straight in the noggin’ and day don’ go down. Gots to hit them in a sweet spot.”

Atvulf nodded in agreement. ”Buggers tough as nails. So fightn’ their behinds super chancy. Hell, we don’ even have proper guns anymore, ‘cept yeh little popper.” Atvulf pointed to Henry’s holstered sidearm. ”So we best git our collective arses out of ‘ere as direckly as possible. We ain’ gonna win dis one.”

Henry shook his head in disagreement. ”We stay and fight. They need our help and we’re in the best position to do it with them not trying to kill us at the moment. Empty your pockets everyone, lets see what we have in the way of weapons.”

Xander turned away as he examined the contents of his thick-coat pockets, withdrawing the battered flashlight he had taken from the van earlier. It would have to do.

Xander looked up to observe the findings of his compatriots. Henry had unholstered his service weapon, whilst Atvulf pulled the three knives that had been scavenged from the derelict evacuation camp. A paltry sum of weapons.

”This it?” Henry murmured to himself, checking how many rounds remained in his gun.

”Well we stab them right, we might git sum tin out of this crap,” Atvulf sighed, ”Still, we ain’ got the power ‘ere, would be easier if we up and left.”

Henry shook his head in determination. ”We’re doing this whether you like it or not.”

”At leas’ hold off on yeh goddamn gun before we git in there first.” Atvulf countered.

”Sure, alright.” Henry stated.

Atvulf handed one of the salvaged knives to Mikey, who examined it, testing its weight with a few taps and jabs. Tsubaki, eyes downcast, pointed towards the remaining knife Atvulf clutched. Observing her pointing, Atvulf looked between her and the knife, deciphering her intent, before scoffing quietly.

Sweet t*ts want’s herself a knife eh? But it ain’ pink or gots a bow on it!” Atvulf again chuckled lightly at his own joke.

”But seriously,” he added, ”Ain’ no way in hell imma give you this. This ain’ no place for women. You just stay put an’ be a good little girl ‘right?”

Tsubaki shook her head, and pointed once more at the knife he clutched, her eyes fierce with determination.

”Atvulf,” Henry started, ”there are five of.. of those things out there. We’ll need every able hand we have.”

”Wut, you two?” Atvulf gave one final hoot, ”Wars’ a man’s duty, everybody know dat. We’ll be fine, no needs to have some panzy arse women prancing ‘bout gettin’ us killed and makin’ sh*t difficult.”

Choice 8 (Strength: Mild)

A: Atvulf is right,  agree with him and deny Tsubaki the knife/her reject her help.

B: Tsubaki can help, and she wants to. Tell Atvulf to hand her the knife.
International Events / Re: The Freedom War
« Last post by guest100 on July 12, 2018, 07:08:57 pm »
Xander stood next to Henry looking at Gwen's grave, thinking of the right words to be said. He put his hand on Henry's shoulder before speaking, "Your life shouldn't have ended this way, no one's should have. We just hope that you and the others don't die in vain, and that the pain is over." In his thoughts he told her he was sorry that she died like that. He then gave the other two a moment of silence before helping fill it in.
Map Location Request Form / Adraxa on the map
« Last post by guest197 on May 29, 2018, 05:41:23 pm »
Regional Name: Republic of Adraxa
Name on Map: Republic of Adraxa
Population of your Species: 121,100,000,000
Link to the NS nation that is within the Galactic Federation:
Location on Map (Reference map link below to view the map to determine where you wanna be. Be detailed in desired location):
Citizenship Form / Citizenship Application for Adrax
« Last post by guest197 on May 29, 2018, 05:10:42 pm »
Galactic Federation species name: the Adraxi
Link to the NS nation that is within the Galactic Federation:
Do you have nations in other regions?: No
Have you held positions in any regions government?: Yes
If so, what and where?: Secretary of RP in the Free Democratic Union
Would you ever consider being involved in one of the regions government positions?:
Is this nation a puppet: No
Citizenship Form / Citizenship Application For Denerimus
« Last post by guest196 on May 27, 2018, 04:10:21 am »
Galactic Federation species name.: Denerimus
Link to the NS nation that is within the Galactic Federation.:
Do you have nations in other regions?: No
If yes, where?: N/A
Have you held positions in any regions government?: Yes
If so, what and where?:Vice-Delegate for Scherzinger in Der Nacht Wacht
Would you ever consider being involved in one of the regions government positions?: Maybe
Is this nation a puppet.: No
Citizenship Form / Citizenship Application For Scherzinger
« Last post by guest194 on April 28, 2018, 05:32:50 pm »
Galactic Federation species name.: Scherzinger
Link to the NS nation that is within the Galactic Federation.:
Do you have nations in other regions?: Yes
If yes, where?: Der Nacht Wacht
Have you held positions in any regions government?: No
If so, what and where?: N/A
Would you ever consider being involved in one of the regions government positions?: Yes
Is this nation a puppet.: No
Citizenship Form / Citizenship Application
« Last post by guest193 on April 20, 2018, 11:03:35 pm »
Galactic Federation species name.:  Osmyrii
Link to the NS nation that is within the Galactic Federation.:
Do you have nations in other regions?:  No
If yes, where?:  N/A
Have you held positions in any regions government?: No
If so, what and where?: N/A
Would you ever consider being involved in one of the regions government positions?:  maybe @ a time
Is this nation a puppet.:  No
International Events / Re: Xefr's Adventures: Existential Crisis
« Last post by guest28 on April 17, 2018, 08:02:04 pm »
Xefr seemed surprised at the news, but that faded quickly. There was a little glimpse of sadness if one was watching very carefully, but it was shoved aside quickly as happiness took its place in genuine fashion, "That is wonderful! Guess I really was right then when I said you two have completely changed from your first interactions. From cold glares to private bedroom nights." Myst was already blushing from the kiss, but Xefr's words just made it worse, "Ess! My mate can handle that part of the arrangement well enough, you need not help her... Anyways, I guess we should inform Guardian next. Then perhaps we can get to planning the wedding while we have the time." His tail was moving about a bit frantically, though it eventually stopped ontop of Cui's, where it calmed.


Forbidden didn't seem impressed or amused, just slightly irritated. He gazed at the hand and said, "I'm afraid I don't have half a soul to give, vile goat. Maybe you can get a tenth of a soul, since that's about half of what I have. This damnable cage stopped me from growing even close to my true power. But what can I do about it? It'll regenerate quick enough, just as it always has. Wouldn't be the first time neither I or even the True Xefr gave up a piece of his soul to somebody. We always grow it back, it's a family tradition. Go on then, let's get it over with." He put a paw on her hand, rolling his eyes as he knew exactly what was coming next.


The Golden Dragon slowly emerged, going not too quick as to startle Re'Ni. He seemed experienced with handling twitchy Dragons, and he spoke calmly, "Hold. I'm not a threat to you, or you child for that matter. My name is Dervis Goldon. I'm the Combat Drake Commander that vouched for you in that whole incident. The reason you aren't being arrested. I've just come to talk to your mate, Tec. There's something I need to talk to him with." Tec, in his own defensive action, swiftly picked up Silvia and put her on his back, so he could protect her more easily if need be. This of course also had the look of Silvi riding on her dad's back like he was a mount, which was cute.
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