Lagrange Point Trailer Teaser

 The sounds of drums, bugles and horns filled the town, the marching music echoing throughout the streets and houses, audible from probably a mile away. Indeed, the 17th Regiment of Dulsworth was marching through the small town of Weitai on its way to the front line, to fight against the enemies of the combined hostile nations of the-. The troops paraded through the central stone street, some stony-faced, some bright and cheery, each one carrying their rifle in a slope arm position.

 On both sides of the street, nearly the entire small town had gathered on both sides of the street to wave the red uniformed soldiers off. The myriad yells and shouts of the townspeople nearly drowned out the marching music of the fifers and the drummers, further contributing to the rowdy liveliness that permeated throughout the air.

 There are four little rows of soldiers, each marching in near perfect tandem with one another to the beat of the drums down the street. In between each rectangle of foot soldiers is a group of cavalry and dragoons, their heads held high, turning their eyes downward to peer at the people around them, hands on the hilt of their sword or pistol. The horses too would attempt their best at regality and only failing somewhat. Occasionally, a wagon would pass by, carried along by a number of transport horses, carrying either supplies or cannons.

 Not far from the procession, in a modest house, a soldier is late, very late. He was supposed to meet up with the rest of the local militia so they could join into the 17th Regiment as planned, but evidently something had been messed up with his own schedule, and now the soldier is panicking, getting his things ready, putting on his uniform, assembling what meagre belongings he had been allowed to take, and checking everything twice.

 Quickly the soldier pulled on one of his boots, skipping his way to the front door of the house, where his mother patiently waited for him. Immediately he ceased his hopping about and greets her, a smile on his face as he did so. His mother does so too, before placing the standard issue tricorne in his hands, something he forgot to put on earlier. He grins, says words of thanks and puts the hat on his head, takes the rifle off his shoulder, places it on the floor and hugs her.

 They stay there for a minute, before the son disengages, pulls on his tricorne, shoulders his rifle, and nearly leaves. His mother calls for him to wait, and pulls out a little

 square trinket

 circular trinket

…

 He takes it in his hands, holds it close, says some words of further thanks, wishes and promises about what the future will hold. Finally he turns to rejoin the rest of the soldiers, marching off to the front line, to fight on the Heavenly Strait against

 The Dreibund

 The Dual Alliance.

 
Vriheild stood still in the alleyway of the metropolis, watching the different mantis people, called the Gukeduhr, go about their day, a half lit smoking pipe in his mouth. How free they must be, going about their days, how utterly blessed with wonderful ignorance they must be about the gods, about the world as a whole. Puppets on a stage, unaware of their own strings. Some part of him wished that he could run around, shout out the truth to the world, make it known what was really going on, and tear back the facade of divinity.

But he couldn’t do that. The two gods were always watching, if he made a move now they would smite him down and everyone that listened to him. Maybe this awareness was a curse thrust upon him, eldritch knowledge meant to drive him insane. If so, then he would endure, like he had endured before. He would tear down this faux palace painted gold and lay it bare, to make all the suffering worth it.

Not now though. Soon, but there was little he could do now. They still hadn’t appeared yet, and he had no idea where they would be. For now, all he could do was wait, wait and scheme for his future plan, check out any sites of overt interference from the gods and then set the dominoes in motion. The gods hadn’t noticed his existence yet, but if they did, it would all be over before he could react.

Speaking of said dominoes, one was falling into place now. Vriheild watched as a Gukeduhr shopkeeper walked his way into his little pawn shop, flipped the sign to open, then moved back to the counter in the back of the building. Quickly he made his move. He had scouted this building for a few weeks now, and he knew the relative schedule of what would happen, and he had only a short opportunity to accomplish what he needed to do before the regular customers came in.

In a swift movement, he put away his smoking pipe into the cloak that obscured most of his face and body, and entered the pawn shop, the little bell at the door ringing to signal his arrival. The Gukeduhr looked up immediately, a little surprise evident in the way he moved. 

“Ah! A customer! Come to buy something? Or to sell?”

Without a word, Vriheild pulled back the hood of his cloak, letting the shopkeeper see his face.

“Oh! Oh. A Lezento, we-we don’t usually get your kind around here.”

“I get that reaction quite often,” Vriheild responded, without a hint of mirth in his voice. “Now tell me, where is the agimat?”

That changed the shopkeeper’s mood instantly, if only for a split second. “I…don’t know what you mean. Are there any characteristics you can elaborate o-?”

While the shopkeeper was professing his innocence, Vriheild crossed the length of the room in a few strides, and suddenly lifted the poor shopkeeper by the cuff of his shirt to stare him in the eyes, anger coursing through every vein.

With a snarl, Vriheild posed his question again. “Don’t make a fool of yourself. You and I both know that you have a piece of the agimat. Where. Is. It?”

“I’m telling you, I don’t kn-”

Vriheild let out a hiss at that and slammed the shopkeeper's face into the counter, dragging it across the wooden top, smashing and knocking over a dozen miscellaneous objects of little importance. He needed to wrap this up quickly. He had only a few minutes to secure this information before the first pedestrians began walking by this part of town.

“Stop lying to me. Do you know now or do you need any further convincing? Surely this artifact can’t be of this much worth to you.”

The shopkeeper was silent, before coughing out his final answer. “Fine, fine, if you want it so damn much it’s in the backroom, in the jeweled box, under-under the floorboard by the closet. Just- please leave me alone.”

Vriheild let out a small smile of triumph before slitting the throat of the shopkeeper, and slipping into the backroom, a place filled with worthless shiny trinkets and fuzzy architectural details. Sure enough, the piece of the agimat was in the jeweled box, where the shopkeeper said it would be. He snatched it out of the box and affixed it to the rest of his patched together relic. There were still more gaps to fill, more pieces until it was finally complete, but at least he was one step closer to finally breaking free of it all.

A shriek from the front of the store. The regular customers  must have come in and found the corpse. With little time to waste, Vriheild pulled on his hood once more and quickly left through the back door and leapt over a separating wall. Once the guards and the city got involved in the murder, he would be far too gone for them to do anything about it. Soon the time would come for the tables to be turned. Soon, but not now.

 
One day, the stars will align. One day, the moon will eclipse the sun and the planets will file into a single straight line, piercing the heavens. One day the dragon’s spawn will come down unto the earth, and fate will be determined. I await that day, as does the other. The question is not if, it is a question of when, of when the sanguine painting will be finished and put up on display.

We watch the stars for an irregularity, and knock around hundreds of lives like children’s toys. Undisputed except for ourselves, hands around each other’s necks. It is the way things are, it is the way things always will be. One of us will go in the far future, in this tug of war between the other and I.

The spirit of the dragon haunts us still. But it can be utilized for something far greater.

I have nothing to say other than IT’S PEAK

IM JOINJNG

Dead this is great

buuuuump for the new day

Ooh, another RP from Dead to look forwards to!

I see you stixseven trying not to read my text wall

I swear I'm trying to read this, it's just too much for me to deal with, let alone on a computer

Gets cut off on app at "He was supposed to me..."

the number of people fizzled out along with activity, it never recovered

alright a bump here might start working on the RP proper soon, no promises though, still gotta wait for my partner

Bomp

you cooked,burnt,sizzled,simmered and even deep fried! good job bro,this is peak :]]]]]

BLUE IS BACK

WooHoo!