 Collection: Age of Youth
Chronicled by: Valhel Preceded by: Long Road Home Pandora's treader thundered across the dried and cracked wasteland as the sunlight retreated under the advance of night. Merc and Lacea trailed behind her on their own vehicles as they returned to the bunker they called home. The band had set up their base in the northeastern sectors of the desert, here long dead rivers wound their dried veins through the clay and spires of stone loomed overhead like titanic fossils. These dry riverbeds provided a natural layer of protection for Pandora's crew as it interrupted the relatively flat terrain with steep banks and maze-like channels.  Collection: Ages of Youth
Chronicled by: Valhel pt II Thrashing, Pandora kicked down and wildly clawed her way to the surface of the pool. Breaching the water she tore away her helm with a violent gasp for air. For the next few moments Pandora only cared to regain her breath, then, though still shaken, found her way to the edge of the waters. Savoring the firm ground beneath her, Pandora lay for several minutes upon the stone floor. She could hear the whirl and hum of machinery about her, and the darkness of the stair was now a cavern lit by strange lanterns.  Collection: Ages of Youth
Chronicled by: Valhel Pandora gently swung the ancient doors of the vacant chapel wide. Rusted hinges upon rotted wood disturbed after long years of neglect creaked and crumbled, damp bits and splinters fell down to the stone threshold from where Pandora's touch had held. Tiny, hideous creatures, now exposed, writhed and swarmed to their colonies beneath the wood as Pandora shut the doors behind her. A profane air filled the sanctuary. Though windows and walls were broken and wind would find easy welcome the air remained dead. Five gleaming light shone beneath Pandora's helm, the fortunes of the future illuminating the secrets of the dark and distant past.  Collection: Age of Youth//the Halleaux//Skeletons of the Past
Chronicled by: Ghasty Petra sat at a small table in her private room. She had a small mug of coffee in her left hand, which she slowly sipped. Her right hand flipped through the pages of the bible sitting in front of her. Sunlight filtered through a small window looking out upon the vast an seemingly never ending dunes. It had been two and a half days since Aileen, Antonin, Hallr, Jehan, Melody, and Zenobia had left with their prisoners. No news had come back, which planted a seed of worry in Petra’s mind. The entire room had an aura of peace and tranquility. This aura was then interrupted by a knock on Petra’s door. This knock surprised Petra, causing her to spill her coffee on herself. Petra yelped in pain from the hot coffee.  Collection: Ren
Chronicled by: Ren Petra sat at the table in Ren’s room, It had been two weeks since he had vanished and Petra hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. His lab had been his means of escape, he had taken the five small orbs with him, along with the canisters of Vision. The door had been melted through using either acid or a high powered torch. Logan was nowhere to be found. In the bathroom they had found a bowl of red liquid, the same that Ren had used to draw on the wall with. It turned out to be dye made from the petals of a flower. Mira had been turned over to her people, where she was to be dealt with using “the law of the tribe”.  Collection: Age of Youth
Chronicled by: Ghasty “Please, allow me and my two partners to stay,” Mictecacihuatl pleaded to Petra. “Why should I?” Petra asked heartlessly. “We have failed a contract with the Authority to kill Aileen Eochaidh, Lacea Elmstone, Lukas Kenway, MechLaughlin, and Xanthia Sanna. We would be hunted down by the Authority and executed if we aren’t allowed to stay.” “Why should I care?” “We could be useful assets. We’re professionals in fighting, stealth, and tracking.”  Collection: Ages of Youth//Elysian
Chronicled by: Valhel Preceded by: the Halls of the Mountain King ptII Reccommended Listening: "Long Time" by Boston Seven years before the first Halleaux... Boots kicked gravel into the dust choked air as a young woman raced through the rail yard. She wove in and out of abandoned freight cars with a frenzied determination. The sunset caused her shadow to cascade like moments suspended in the past as the last light burned brightly in her squinting eyes. Mud and sand flocked her black coat and a stack-barreled sidearm danced within its holster at her side as she ran.  Collection: Age of Youth//Elysian
Chronicled by Valhel Entry No. 3 "You take yourself too seriously, you know that, right?" said Merc. Two figures stood black against a violet abyss flooded with impassive stars. Pandora watched them intensely as if waiting for one of them to reach out across the night with a hidden word. She had left her helmet inside the bunker, she didn't need it much anymore. The desert air was becoming bitterly cold and she should have been clutching her black coat tightly, but Pandora's wonder had taken over. Beside her stood Mercury, a smuggler in Pandora's company. He folded the arms of his leather jacket to his chest, forbidding himself to shiver in front of Pandora. "I feel-' Pandora sighed,'I feel like I've been lying to myself." Merc looked down and nodded, "We all lie. That's how this works. We tell ourselves that everything's okay. That we are who we say we are. And we believe it." Pandora turned away from the merciless stars to search out hope in her friend's eyes, "But what if I don't? What if I can't lie anymore?" "Then we will lie for you." "That won't be enough." "Not while you hold on to the truth, no.' said Merc, 'This insanity. The Authority. The world we live in. You have to lie to yourself." Pandora looked up again at the cold stars to chart the winds that swept from untold darkness. Merc turned away to descend back into the barrack. "Merc." The smuggler stopped in the doorway to look back. Pandora was still staring out at the stars. "Thank you for being serious with me." fumbled Pandora. Merc drummed the door jam in frustration, "Yah. Rest up, big day tomorrow." "Merc." "It is freezing out here! What?" stammered Merc. "Do you think what the professor said is true? That the dead can live again? That there is redemption?" Merc walked back out to the berm where Pandora was standing, "What I do know is that if we don't take this job we'll be dead for real. What I also know is that if I don't get back inside I'm going to be dead a whole lot faster than you. Good night!" "We're dead already. Dead if we take this job, dead if we leave it." muttered Pandora. "Why can't you be philosophical during the day!" Pandora turned back toward the bunker. Her face worn with conflict. "Look, whether it's the grave or resurrection, the dead have no choice.' said Merc, 'The dead cannot choose life. It must be given to them." "Good night, Merc.' said Pandora, 'Lie easy." "It's always easy." smiled Merc before he turned around and descended into the bunker.  Collection: Age of Youth
Chronicled by: Ghasty Skeletons of the Past: Chapter 13 Standoff After Desmofýlax, Eoin, Hallr, Mech, Petra, Ren, and Xanthia left the well area, Alexa snuck down to the holding cells. Alexa went one by one to each of the cells containing prisoners, freeing Dullahan, Mictecacihuatl, Grim, Zenon, and two other prisoners in the process. Alexa handed the Harbingers their weapons, Zenon her lupara, along with supplying the other two prisoners with revolvers. One of the prisoners was an older woman. She wore a woolen blue dress and blue silken scarf around her head. The other prisoner was a man wearing a bandana over his mouth and goggles covering his eyes.  Collection: Age of Youth
Chronicled by: Ghasty Chapter 12: A Divergence in the Rebellion Petra stood in the center of the green flames. Petra decided she needed to do something quickly before the fire engulfed her. Petra held her shield in front of her and jumped through the fire. Her jacket caught fire in a few places, which she quickly patted down. She tried to open the door, but it had been locked from the outside. The door was made of heavy iron door with an airtight seal. Petra realized trying to throw her weight against the door would be futile. She began to bash her shield against the door to try to get a passerby’s attention. |
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