18+ Chronicles of Fiáin: The Shadow of Gods

Welcome to the wonderful world of Fiáin! A custom fantasy world I put together and hope to put to the test. This world is a very inhospitable and hostile one, but it's currently the only one we've got. Humans, elves, dwarves, all of these races common to fantasy worlds are here... barely. This is THE home world! (This isn't a space epic or some kind of alien sci-fi adventure!)

In an ever changing and ever adapting world, permeated with magic, they have been forced to live in the shadow of others whom are more powerful to survive. For a great deal of time, only small, scattered pockets were clinging to life, existing in the footsteps of massive monsters to which they saw as their lord and savior. Being little more than a speck of dust to such creatures, they were able to coexist. However, this world is merciless, and this did not foster the progress of a dwindling and dying peoples who seemed out of place in a world of gods and titans.

Until the Angelics, quasi angels with great magic power and advanced technology, lowered themselves from their great flying city (not to be confused with a ship, ESPECIALLY NOT a space ship) and began to retrieve them. Now, they live in the shadow of a different kind of god, though the terms of such an existence are as of yet unclear.

But, as time has passed without relent, resources are beginning to be spread too thinly, and it is unclear how long the Angelics can mantain their fortress in the sky. Incursions onto the surface of the planet have so far had less than desirable results, but now more than ever, something has to give.

Luckily for the little people, they have one advantage. Creatures on this planet are drawn to power like moths to a flame, as it fuels their own evolutions. Thus, beings such as the Angelics, who typically possess immense power, draw the attention of powerful monsters whenever they set foot outside their fortress.

The little people, by contrast, draw no special attention to themselves. Thus, it is they who shall be the vanguards on this brutal planet, if they can only tame the untameable. This is a tale of pioneers and colonizers, as well as so much more. This is going to be dark, it's going to be gritty, and it's going to put humanity itself to the test.

Cast:
Gidian as: Tracker Jack
@Blackdoom59 as: Rurik
@Toxius as: Eos Marc Hasley
@Skies as: Acquelliel
@EpicVakarian as: Katelyn "Kat" Danaher

"I was there when the gods bled.
We danced in their blood...

Fear the deep.
Resent the earth.
Tread lightly the skies...

I was there when angels led.
They brought us a flood...

Hatred creep.
Reverent birth.
How heavily it flies...

We were drowned in red.
Oh but the flowers won't bud...

The deep is dead.
The earth is moved.
The sky is felled.

The trees whisper, the winds shout.
The stones grovel, the beasts wake.
The temptations crisper, the nightmares rout.
The secrets topple, the warnings fake.

Remember the mother, beware the father...
Tell the brother your sister thought she knew...

The clawless rule from earth above,
The wingless deny the skies below,
The spineless stand on pedastels,
And the formless are constant.

The world is mad."
-The Last Child, Record of Pre-Caesceum Life: Volume 1, Edition 1



Madness, it is said, is the partner in crime of genius. Tracker Jack, possibly the most infamous character since raw snail rations, was said to be mad. That was a fancy way of saying nearly everyone in the only center of Civilization known to exist on the entire planet, Caesceum and its millions of occupants, knew his name... for better or worse. Considering the absolutely inumerable amount of outlets there were to direct such contention at, that was rather impressive. Also, it is widely known that Jack would resort to cannibalism before he ate a raw snail willingly, so the comparison was really quite fitting.

Madness? Well considering the world was filled with it you'd think it was a matter if perspective by this point. But Jack? In a world that changes about as fast as the common cold and everything is adapted to kill you, the fact that people were unnerved by his brand of crazy really was something. Who knows? Maybe something like that really was genius.

Or at least, you might be tempted to say he was a genius, given his track record for innumerable missions on dear Fiáin's surface he has survived (an unprecedented record of success)... if he wasn't currently wiggling his toes at the edge of a precipice of the fair flying city of Caesceum that might've even made a bird nervous.

But who knows, maybe he knew something everyone else didn't. Maybe the strong winds that regularly assaulted those who dared tread the edge had a way of washing away scent so that no beast below could detect it. Or maybe- and more likely- he's truly crazy.

Certainly one would have to be crazy to stay so near the edge when one of the two colossal, gyroscopic rings which rotated in turns around the city happened by. They surrounded the massive flying city-on-a-rock in a rough bubble, forming the first and best line of defense against aerial threats in the form of a great magical barrier (there was a daily, neverending supply of threats).

At this moment, Tracker Jack, armed with a bow and arrows, sword and daggers at his sides, a hatchet and numerous pockets and containers and such strapped under his mottled cloak, topped off with a metal helmet with the visage of some demon or beast from nightmare, began to laugh maniacally. He wasn't wearing his boots (Thought the toe wiggling was a joke? Ha! Maybe his feet just stank that bad? Need a good airing out every now and then), which were tossed to the side casually. He jovially nocked an arrow, swaying dangerously back and forth, and took a shot at one of the wide selection of monstrous birds of prey outside the defensive rings.

He kept firing in this fashion, missing much more often than not, until he was down to one last arrow. It's important not to judge him too harshly here, as there were few beings, much less human beings, who could land such shots. However, this last arrow seemed as if it would be different.

Jack was somehow more precise, more deliberate in drawing it, nocking it, and pulling it back to his cheeks. His feet were steadier, and his balance showed not the slightest hint of instability. He inhaled with dramatic flair, and just as he exhaled, ready to release his shot, one of the defensive rings rapidly passed by, causing a draft so powerful it nearly sucked him off the edge and into certain death (the birds probably would have eaten him before he hit the ground). It likely would have succeeded if he hadn't dove backwards and onto solid ground.

His boots, on the other hand, weren't so lucky. Noticing them plumeting off the edge, Jack being the man that he was, promptly dove off after them, commanding them to come back.

"INCONSIDERATE LITTLE SONS OF BIT**ES! GET BACK HERE!"

One would have indeed thought him truly mad, as he angled his head downward, leading the fall, arms poised backwards, legs straight, gaining the greatest aerodynamic advantage he thought he could attain. He quickly gained ground (or air in this case) on his precious boots, until he finally caught them and repostioned himself with his back facing down, cradling them. It obviously didn't seen like he had much of a plan... until he hit the "bubble". While it allowed objects such as arrows and boots through, he himself was launched upwards as if he'd landed on the world's most elastic and powerful trampoline- which it was, there being no competition- and he let out a yell of enthusiasm before faceplanting back in city limits.

"YYYYYYEEEEEAAAAA- Oof!"

It was some time before he came to, in an infirmary, covered in bandages. There was no doubt he'd broken something- though the doctor was more concerned whether Jack could survive a brain transplant.

Tracker Jack, being one of the most efficient mercenaries employed by the Angelic builders and de facto rulers of Caesceum, was garunteed only the best of care and service. No matter the speculation that he hunted his compatriots for fun, or used them as bait for his amusement, he always returned alive and with results. Whether or not he was the sole survivor was just a minor detail. He got results, and that's what the brass cared for. The brass being the Angelic Hierarchy in general.

Most people however, if they weren't deemed useful or efficient enough, were left to their own devices unless pitied by those more fortunate. It was rare for someone other than an Angelic to be one more fortunate, but the more optimistic among the population might take heart in knowing it actually wasn't all that uncommon for Angelics to pitch in- though reasons and mileage may vary. An optimistic one might also take heart in how well the assorted races got along with each other (relatively). Humans, dwarves, elves, orcs, gnomes, even ogres, and everything between and everything around. Their unique cultures were displayed across the city, in the food and drink, in the architecture and design, in the song and the dance.

The more pessimistic and cynical would take heart in knowing that the Angelics- at least the hierarchy- actively practiced segregation. The city was built in layers, completely dedicated to defence. The outermost buildings were generally the poorest, and as one moved closer towards the center of the circular city, the buildings and walls and defenses got taller and taller, that way there would always be a clear line of sight as well as superior vantage points for the defenders. Unfortunately, the innermost layers were Angelic only, with there being no known precedence for exception. Not only that, but the vulnerable outermost sections were also the most crowded and least defensible, not even being built to allow efficient retreat or evacuation. And even though the races lived together, they didn't necessarily get along so well. All of the different cultures could be observed so distinctly not necessarily because they coexisted and made efforts to preserve, but rather because they refused to mingle.

You see, there was a problem in this little heaven. Resources were largely unrenewable, the population was getting larger, and the Angelics couldn't keep it floating forever. They would have to face the monsters below eventually, who would come for them like a shark to blood at their mere aura or scent.
But humans and elves and dwarves and all of those other humble races, even the subterranean ones that lived in the underground portions of the flying city, had a degree of freedom in their lack of attraction. That made them useful.

Especially now more than ever. If Tracker Jack had been conscious while being hauled off to one of the nicer infirmaries, first class and closer to the center than the outside- naturally-, he may have noted that hungry and unfriendly eyes followed the progress of his Angelic escorts.

They were jealous, resentful eyes. The people were on the skinny side. The ones which may have had extra weight from some form of illness promptly died- for to be sick at all here was a death sentence. The houses were made without exception of the cheapest materials, usually old wood. The buildings showed their age, often leaning dangerously, reaching out towards the edge as if they contemplated a premature end to their suffering. The people too, leaned with them with the same longing. The confusing, haphazard streets had little reason, little order, and the sound typically reserved for the long nights could also be heard in the day.

Eyes followed the group as they passed no matter where they turned, either openly or from the shadows. It should be noted however, that Angelics giving away food, clothes, and even building materials were dealt with distrust and scorn. There were quite a number of these sympathetic Angelics, but they were resented.

The closer to the center they came, the more conditions seemed to improve. The people grew fatter, and the buildings straighter. There was more order, and the streets made more sense. It smelled better, though you wouldn't be able to tell unless you'd been subject to the absolutely terrible stench emitted by the outer sections. However, the people's gazes were only less hungry. Eyes still followed their progress, though much less openly. Windows and curtains were closed on approach, cracked doors slammed abruptly. Footsteps retreated into alleyways. The streets ahead were deserted, but the houses and alleys were most certainly full. The Angelics who had come to help had little more welcome here.

In the next section, the people were less skittish, the air less malicious. However, the eyes still occasionally flitted to the group passing through, and the conversations died down to fierce whispers. Each whisp of breath had a sheering quality, which seemed to cut away at the nerves. At least it smelled better, and at least the buildings made of reliable stone. Here the help was more limited, though better received.

And so it went, the city becoming consistently nicer the closer in they went, the people becoming more amiable (though still tense), and the quality of building material improving, until they came to the innermost sections to which the puny mortals were allowed. Then, finally, Jack was fixed up and milking his hospitalization for all it was worth.

One would normally expect, what with all the mixed up architecture and such between all the different cultures and the whole humans and dwarves and elves and etc. normally not getting along that they wouldn't get along- they didn't entirely. But there were a lot of reasons to try here, and many did. Whether it was hatred or love of the Angelics, a common enemy or friend, or simply survival. There were too many to list between. But, naturally, there were also lots of reasons to not get along. Overcrowding and competition for resources can divide a people even of the same race- and it was worse when there were countless said races involved.

Hopefully, it wasn't too late to put a good team together. Jack had spread the word and even put up posters- surprisingly good handwriting and penmanship, if he did say so himself- to get the word out. The details were vague, referring only to an expedition to the surface for an undefined length of time. The rewards, however, were very highlighted. Food, for one thing. Drink for another. Plenty of coin, plenty of prestige. This mission would be sponsored handsomely by the Angelics, so the rewards went on and on from there and concluded with an enticing, "...and much more...". The most eye opening part of the proposition, however, is what would first become of those selected before setting out on their mission.

The mission was turning out to be something else altogether, as those whom he selected would get an all expense payed, exclusive ticket through the pearly gates and into the beyond.

Those gates (and walls) were similar to a pearly color, though they also frequently pulsed and crackled with magic, making their texture and color change frequently. At night, they were sometimes a great, beautiful lightshow, much to the chagrin of those who valued sleep in the dark. Words simply cannot describe the experience, and most pictures could not do it justice. One can only imagine, after all, what must be on the other side.

He'd given around a week's notice, roughly 336 hours, to prepare and assemble. No doubt there would be more weeks to prepare, but his particular eccentrics could be... difficult. Especially now, with things so tense. There could be no mistakes, he had to be particularly choosy about whom received a ticket.

He had made one of the "zoos" around the city the established meeting place (one of the largest ones in fact, being nearly the size of a small town), in neutral territory so that absolutely anyone from any walk of life could join.

But Jack was not famous, but infamous. His reputation was well known, and though many respected him, they were also very VERY wary of him.

The times however, had never been so tense, and the feeling in the air was dire. This group would be able to consult the Angelic Council personally, after all. They had to be desperate of they were allowing that. Not to mention that Tracker Jack, though his sanity was in question, was unquestionably the most capable of putting together such an operation and succeeding.

And so, after a few days of eating and drinking a few taverns put of business, he resigned himself to enter the "zoo" and wait. It appeared, at first, as a normal zoo. Only the methods of captivity may be considered overkill for such an establishment. Closed tops and electric, reinforced fences. Not to mention that most of the supposed attractions could rarely be seen, and the place seemed rather abandoned. Especially at night, which coincidentally was when Jack had scheduled the meeting. Right smack dab in the middle of the slightly overgrown and foreboding prison for wildlife.

And so, Jack sat completely still for the better part of a day and into the night, trusting his cloak and the fact that his scent was surprisingly difficult to detect, and blended in with some of the overgrown vegetation inside one of the cages, though the cage in this case was an entire, rather huge, exhibit.

It was obvious why this place was neutral territory, and Jack hoped the growth over the sign by the entrance didn't cover up the name or subsequent warning. He didn't want the feint of heart.


"CAUTION: LIVE SAMPLES EXTRACTED FROM THE SURFACE, TRAINED STAFF ONLY"

Kat was starting to sweat, a result of the sun beating down on her in her leather outfit. She wiped the beads away with a hand, flicking them away and sighing deeply.

She was bored. She'd completed her daily activities faster than usual today, and had no plans on visiting anywhere in particular, so she was just wandering about the city, glancing about for anything of interest. So far, nothing.

But to her surprise, a friend of hers appeared from an alley, joining her to walk at her side.
"Hey, Cass."
"Hey, Kat; you got anything going on lately?"
The question bemused Kat; since when did she ever do anything - or more accurately - get a chance to do anything? Cass had a strange look on her face, one that said she had good news and was refraining from grinning. Kat's eyes narrowed, and she stopped in place, turning to face her friend.
"No, Cass, I've got nothing different. Why? Have you seen something?"

Finally the smile broke out onto Cass' face, and she opened up.
"Kat, there's been word going round of the Angelic Council." Kat scoffed.
"When is there ever no word about the Council?" Cass ignored her, and continued.
"They're recruiting people to go down to the ground. Apparently there's posters up all over the city, we just need to go find one for you, and you can finally go down there!"

Kat was silent, her mouth slightly open. She'd wanted to go down since she could remember, and this was her chance. She shifted her weight to one leg, staring at Cass, before suddenly laughing and hugging her tightly.
"You're serious? I can..."
"Come on, Kat! Let's go and find one of these posters!"

Cass grabbed Kat's hand, pulling her down the street in search of said posters. It didn't take long to find one, once Kat knew what she was looking for; she'd spotted them around before in the past few days, but hadn't spotted what they were advertising. Now she was up close, she got a good look in.

She was equal parts ecstatic and disappointed. Ecstatic for the fact she had an opportunity to go down to the surface, but disappointed because of the name stamped across the bottom:
Kat had heard that name before. Many, many times. It was said he was insane, that he was unstable and eccentric. She of all people, however, knew that it was best not to judge people by other people's impressions. She decided to find the man and ask for more details.

Cass was way ahead of her on that front; as soon as she spotted the name, she began to speak.
"Tracker Jack, huh? Weird choice of leader. Anyway, I actually heard this morning, he was sent to the infirmary."
Oh, good.
"I heard he was practicing his shooting and his boots got blown over the edge, so he dived after them. Obviously he got bounced back up, and landed harder than he'd anticipated."
"So the man they choose to lead an expedition to the ground is a man who values his boots more than his own safety, yet chooses to remove them before shooting?" Katelyn was wary not to get her hopes up just yet, but she would visit anyway. "Well, anyway; its a shot. Thank you so much, Cass."

She took a closer look at the poster, noticing that it invited applicants to a meeting in the middle of the night in one of the city's many zoos. "Right, I've got my meeting time. Thanks again, Cass, I'll probably see you tomorrow; I'll let you know how it went."

And so it came to be that Katelyn found herself in a zoo in pitch darkness, searching for a man in the middle of the thing. She searched for well over an hour before finally getting fed up and impatient.
"HELLOOOO?" she shouted out into the darkness, her voice echoing around the zoo. "TRACKER JACK? WHERE ARE YOU?"
Then she waited for a response, expecting it to be as eccentric as she'd heard the man was.

“So… I have to deal with this…” Acquelliel sighed, as he walked through the beautifully carved and crafted halls of the Tower. The shifting nature of the magical stones would cause a non-angelic to get something akin to a crippling motion sickness crossed with vertigo. His gold eyes had a touch of boredom as he ran his left hand through his platinum hair. His armor was similar to the stones in how the gold seemed to shift around the seemingly coursing blue highlights that twisted and moved like erratic lightning. He groaned as he marched with his helmet under his arm. But I suppose it was good of the council to have a Guardian watch over the group. With the reputation this Tracker Jack (Acquelliel scoffed at the name, who names their kid Tracker…) Acquelliel could never get any of the lesser races anyway, like when reading about when the city first became a haven. People would get out of the way for men with more gold, only because of that. Finer men were thrown to the wayside for the opulent. It made no sense, for with the Angelic people it was whoever was the strongest, who earned their prestige. Family honor was a concept never ingrained into their society.

The angelic walked with his head held high, he was young but he still managed to earn the right to be a Guardian. His armor was his crowning achievement, forged to his exact measure, enchanted to improve his physical prowess, and just his right style of adornment. It was the reason for his namesake when he was promoted, The Golden Eagle. He wore it with pride as he went forth with his career. But he would be tested as he was sent to look over a group led by that meat grinder, as much as it annoyed him it was an important role, and an important mission.

City maintenance is bad enough as it is, the idea of another extension would be insane. As Acquelliel walked through the shifting halls towards the great door, he took a deep breath and spread his wings as he put his helmet on. The magic of the armor made his wings shimmer with energy. With a series of rapid beats of his wings his form began to hover above the ground. The great door opened to reveal a landing and not much else. For why would Angel’s need stairs?

Acquelliel looked over the city, taking in its splendor, for even though it seemed to get worse the farther out you go, the rings of the city were magnificent, colors shifted in the sun when it hits the tower just right, a wheel of time and majesty. He hoped the researchers could figure out a proper power source, Acquelliel’s armor worked on his natural affinity to the sun, but it was said that there just wasn’t enough power produced for the city, especially since at night is when the most power is expended. They just didn’t realize that he still produced half of the solution. He proposed to have large battery stores and such, but the top wouldn’t have none of that. They were careful and when it came to the city, Acquelliel knew it had to be.

He loved the feeling of the wind on his wings, it was liberating especially since it was proof that the angelic people were meant to fly over all others. He tucked his wings in and like an arrow went towards the meeting place, the Den of Horrors. Acquelliel had to smirk at the name, mortals had such fantastical naming devices, direct yet just a little… What was the word? Acquelliel thought. Melodramatic? Yes, that must have been it. He could feel some eyes on his shining personage, but he paid them no mind, for what are ants to the being who belonged with the clouds. He found the den, and began rapidly flapping his wings to slow his decent, touching one foot to the ground like the statue of the Victorious Queen. He took off his helmet, and walked in. He would have to survey the people he would oversee, he heard a girl yelling in the darkness. Was not an impressive start, but Acquelliel had to give them the benefit of the doubt.

It was late afternoon, the huge and sprawling sun setting off into the distance, or rather suns, people with sore eyes and a lack of knowledge of astronomy would often overlook the small, but brilliant white ball that circled close to the bigger and engulfing orange ball of flame. It was a recent discovery, but the Angelics were more concerned with their floating city, to be even intrigued by of what this could mean, if at all it meant anything. They did after all, have some sort of technology that took in power from the sun. In the mist of all of this, the market place was still crowded with last minute patrons, most of whom were mostly purse-thieves, and hungry beggars looking to catch any ripe fruit that the shopkeepers overlooked, or which had fallen down onto the dirt-ridden stone cobbles which formed the floor for this semi-competent market.

Eos knew all too well where he was, and which turns took him where. He knew this district, and possibly the whole city, but he didn’t want to tread into a dubious alley, he only wanted to meet the legendary Tracker Jack on his yet another wild exploration of the planet, a far more dangerous place than he could ever begin to compare, it made the city’s thug-lords of the outer district seem like mere kittens. Not that kittens or rather cats could be rather sly and cunning themselves.

Eos stepped into the exhibit, the evening twilight had already fallen and the area was plunged into darkness. He would have to rely on his gut to navigate through the dense foliage, which overgrew the paths and passages which were laid down in the construction of the Den. He also had to be careful, he didn’t want to step into a carnivorous plant, or be slashed by razor sharp thorn bushes. Leaves were also often overlooked, some of them were sharper than steel, and stronger than stone. Those leaves made cheap and effective throwing knives, if they were used proper enough. Eos then heard a girl shout out, and slowly crept his way towards her location.

She seemed short and young, Eos could also make out some of her more defining features, even in the darkness. Light hair, obviously blond, small stature but quite beautiful and very well under-equipped at first glance, but there could be more weapons hidden in places he could only guess.

Why would a girl like her, be out in a place like this if she didn’t have any expertise? Eos dwelled, thinking out every possible reason. She could be new at this, why else would she shout in such a place, didn’t she know she could call for some unwanted and dangerous attention, maybe she did miss the sign, there were quite a few beasts that could devour a fully grown adult in a mere flash and those beasts did happen to live in this forest, surrounded by the strongest fence known. After all, the Angelics wouldn’t want them wandering around their city now.

Eos’s eyes devilishly glanced from side to side, only the girl was in sight. She must have been exceptionally lucky, she hadn’t attracted anything too malevolent, and so he decided to make his presence known before her luck ran out. He crept out of his place, not a single sound was heard before he was in place.

“You know, you shouldn’t be shouting off in the mist of the night. You could attract all kinds of attention, the wrong kind. And you wouldn’t want that now.” Eos whispered, loud enough for her to hear, loud enough so she could find the lone figure, and when her eyes did glance upon him.

“I am Eos, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Well at least before anything terrible found you,” He chuckled lightly, and he knew she had to have attracted something to her presence, and that something was not only him. Though, he hoped she wouldn't get the wrong idea and run off, he just didn't want her to get digested before she had the chance to prove herself. Eos only knew she had some adventure in her, after all, she had to have followed the same poster he had seen.

"You don't have to leave, Rurik" said Vardis with a loud yet warm voice. Walking through the streets, they were a pretty odd sight. A human and a fully grown angelic. While Rurik was wearing his usual combat attire, plate armor on the chest, with leather covering everything else, Vardis was wearing robes, a glamorous mixture of colour. Plenty of eyes wondered their way, but none would dare approach an angelic, especially not one as big as Vardis.

"I don't want to leave, believe me, but I need to learn more, and I can't do that by myself. This group Tracker Jack established, I need them and they need me." Vardis rose an eyebrow
"You overestimate them, they're a group of explorers, not a mercenary band"
"Mercenaries or not, you can't do anything down there alone, you need people. I'l go exploring with them, and learn about Fiáin."

They kept walking through the streets to reach the Den of Horros, which neither of them visited before.
"Some would say exploring and learning are the same thing"
"They're wrong"
"Fair enough, you will learn about the world, then come back rich, is that it?"
"I don't do this for money, Vardis. If I bring my discoveries to the House of Secrets, the council will take note. I could become the first human councilor in history!"

The house of secrets was a grand structure towards the middle of the flying city, and it was the largest library in Caesceum. Only the best scholars were allowed inside, and even they would have restricted access. The House of Secrets was one of the few establishments that didn't care about race or title, the wealthiest lord to the thinnest beggar had the same rights once inside. The council was made up of the wisest scholars, and they had full access to all the books inside. It just so happened that the council was made up of angelics, and Vardis was a proud member of it. He's been friends with Rurik for years, Vardis saw potential in him, than he couldn't see in any other man.

"So you do this for prestige?"
"I want to be someone in this place and I want city-dwellers to know what's down there before they go. Aren't those reasons good enough?"

They had approached the Den of Horros, they both stop and look at eachother.

"Just be safe, you owe me that."
"I owe you everything" Rurik extended his hand for a handshake, but Vardis grabbed it and dragged Rurik into a hug, embracing him with both his arms and wings.

“Goodbye, my friend”
“Goodbye, Vardis”

They said their goodbyes in angelic before Vardis unshackled his wings and flew off.
Rurik entered the Den, devoured instantly by darkness. He kept walking forward, in hope to find someone else. In the distance, he could hear a woman scream for Tracker Jack, and a man introducing himself to her. Rurik wanted to approach, but he also noticed someone else. An angelic, sitting in the darkness, waiting for something to happen. Why would an angelic want to leave the flying city? Rurik got behind him and gently placed his hand on the angelic's shoulder, to notify the winged man about his presence. He started talking in angelic

“Well met, I'm Rurik. Never thought I'd see an angelic joining Tracker's squad”

He expected to angelic to be shocked, as all of them are, when they hear a human speaking their tongue. Even though it's a written language, few take the time to learn it, and Angelics only speak it between themselves.

The first reply to Kat's shouts was not, in fact, from Tracker Jack himself, but instead from a bearded man about twenty feet to her right, who revealed himself by murmuring just loudly enough to be heard.

"You know, you shouldn't be shouting off in the mist of the night." Kat reacted in shock, jerking to her right to see the immensely tall, bearded man eyeing her closely. To her credit, she didn't scream or cry out. "You could attract all kinds of attention, the wrong kind. And you wouldn't want that, now."

He chuckled.
"I am Eos, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Well, at least before anything terrible found you."
Kat's eyes narrowed, but she held out her hand, moving closer slowly before quickly shaking his hand. The fact he allowed her to do so reassured her slightly.
"I'm Katelyn." She felt quite intimidated by Eos; he was about a foot taller than her and armed with a large axe on his hip. She also wondered if he was here for the same reason she was; he had a mid-sized pack hanging from his shoulders, seemingly full of equipment.
"Should I assume you're here for Tracker Jack too?"

The girl turned, now completely focused on Eos. She seemed shocked, but only held that stature for a brief moment before her temperament took on a more valiant approach, her hand held out.

Eos in turn extended the same courtesy, shaking her hand which were soft to touch and he could make out her features in greater detail. Right handed, quite fair but she seemed to have the spirit for adventure. Everybody has to start from somewhere, right?

The girl interrupted Eos’s chain of thought, "I'm Katelyn.” She said. He only noted how she glanced to his side, making a catch on his axe, then slowly rising before meeting his eyes yet again. She obviously liked to know what she was up against, "Should I assume you're here for Tracker Jack too?"

“Why, I sure am, but I want to know why you chose the craziest sonofab*tch to accompany to Fiáin? And trust me, the stories you’ve heard don’t sum the half of it up.” Eos sounded more like a concerned parent then a newly met acquaintance. He sure hoped she knew exactly what to expect, Tracker Jack returned on many cases alone, and liked to use the unskilled fodder that turned up as toys to whatever he hunted. At least she didn’t look like fodder, and he knew Jack was often relentless on the ground. You either kept up with his pace, or were left behind.

Maybe, just maybe those that come here today would be spared that. He also knew Jack was out here somewhere, planning his misdeed for his recruits. To Eos’s knowledge, Jack loved to initiate everybody that signed up to his journeys. That could be the reason he chose this place, and not because of its other aspect of being neutral land. That and he didn’t find prints that should have matched Jack’s size, nor any disturbed vegetation. He definitely liked to make an entrance too.

Jack couldn't help but be amused by one of them- some girl from the higher pitch of her voice. She was either very brave or very stupid, and it was a rare amusement for someone to be calling his name in such a way. There was also no mistaking the sound of an arrogant Angelic's wing beats in the background.

Tracker Jack smiled at the prospects before him. He was quite a distance away from any of them, but still said to himself under his breath, with a slight chuckle, "I'm right here, little lady."

He had no real special interest in most of the others who had thus far found their way here. Lots of humans. There were a few others trickling in as time passed, but he felt the need to accelerate things a bit, what with that woman shouting for him and all. How could he not respond when called?

However, it was far more likely that something else was going to get to her first. Yelling in the mist of so many monsters, after all, was a mistake you couldn't take back.

From the perspective of a beast in the closest cage

Large eyes snapped open, disturbed from sleep. There had been nothing to do in these infernal cages, nothing but sleep. For a nocturnal predator, there seemed no greater hell.

But now, there was yelling, a telegraphing of something alive. Something to hunt, something to eat. So, so very hungry. No food, no hunting, for weeks.

And so, ever an opportunist, the beast rose, slowly, carefully, and silently from its deep slumber. The loudest audible noise an inhalation of air, scenting it and the realization that there was more, and that other predators would have by now heard as well.

There was a stretch, a coiling of sinew and muscle, and a quick shake to get the blood flowing. And then, the beast disappeared, rising into the canopy as a spirit would, with no tangible sign of passing nor many audible noises.

It was a good night for stalking, as the little pocket of wilderness suddenly came alive, the sounds of fauna, bugs, and other manner of night sounds, breaking the eery silence which had oppressed the area before. These noises of the night were jubilant with the promise of blood, and covered up any mistakes beasts might make as they disturbed the foliage to all but the most perceptive.

Only most beasts didn't make mistakes, for a mistake meant certain death. A lifetime of hunting and surviving, of fighting and dying, had bred perfect killers, some of the best that natural selection could offer. And so, the instinct to hunt, to kill, and eat drove the beast to the outer limit of its confines, which it had by now learned was not worth the trouble of trying to knock down, and let out a low, inaudible growl of frustration. It paced back and forth, hearing the sounds of its prey conversing, knowing that there were two easy meals just outside of its grasp.

Literally, JUST outside of its grasp. If it reached down from the tree and through the cage bars, it would just barely miss the female. The female was so close, the beast was so hungry, so starved, and the smell was intoxicating. It soon realized that it would be forced to sit, and to wait. It had paced the outskirts of its prison many times, probing for weaknesses, for openings, but there had never been an avenue for escape. It was maddening. However, a hunter must also be patient, so it sat in its perch, behind and looking down on the woman with eyes as big as saucers, apparently undetected.

From the perspective of another beast wandering outside

If someone had been within hearing distance, they would have heard the unmistakable sound of laughter. Unusual enough in such a place for someone to be laughing. However, what was even more disturbing was the fact that this laughter came from the maw of a beast.

It was a mimic. It might not comprehend the sounds it was making exactly, but it could mimic the laughter, similar to the love child of a parrot and a hyena. It too, had heard the sounds of shouting, only there was no fence to separate this creature from its prey. It had escaped- or more correctly been let out. The voice it laughed with was none other than that of Tracker Jack himself, as if it had been conversing with the man for quite a time, before he had presumably released it.

What exactly IT was could be a matter of debate. It was hard to classify large groups of species on the planet due to the adaptive capabilities of the creatures, making nearly every one unique in some way. It could be compared to a wolf or hyena, only much bigger, with a dark brown mottled coat. It seemed to weigh at least a ton, and it's raised hackles made it appear much larger. Electricity sparked between the hairs on occasion, which between its face contorted into a glaring snarl and its eyes being as empty as a shark's, made it look as if it were completely mad. As if some mad scientist had managed to fry himself with electricity and turn himself into a massive mongrel.

It had clumps of fur, with burns, cuts, and bruises all over its body. It looked as if it had been through a blender, evidently due to the fact that it had been wrestling relentlessly with the walls confining it. And it marched forward with a singular purpose: to eat. Its head was huge, and its mouth was saturated with drool, its tongue constantly flicking around listlessly with the up and down motion of its gait. Its canines were also huge, and sizable enough to be wielded as short swords. As it closed its mouth to scent the air, most of its teeth still protruded from its closed mouth. It was close enough to hear the quiet conversation, and it opened its maw, displaying a disturbing ability to unhinge its jaws, and began to pop its bones and stretch, lowering itself to the ground, stalking forward with a surprising degree of stealthiness for its size. It was slow going, but it managed to trace the noises and smells to their source after a few minutes

It could not see its prey, but it knew that there were two and it knew that they were just ahead. It now flexed its muscles, absolutely rippling with power, and prepared to sprint forward and blitz its next meal, already prepared to swallow as much as it could before something bigger came and stole this from it. They wouldn't be able to retreat, for the beast was the rock and the electric fence was the hard place.

Just as it was prepared to take off, however, an unintentional tendrils of electricity discharged, causing a flash of light which gave its prey a split second warning, before it crashed out of the vegetation, lashing out with claws and tooth at whatever it could reach. From there, all Hell broke loose.

From the perspective of Tracker Jack

Jack resisted laughing with great effort as he stalked along in the wake of the great lupis. He knew that it was making a bee line for the source of the yell, and he knew it wasn't the only one. Some of these cages and creatures were old, and some of them didn't need him to let them out. There was no doubt that there were more beasts, all of which likely more terrible, biding their time and waiting for an opportunity. However, for now, he wanted to reach the center of the action before it began. He wanted to see it. Probably take part in too, guilty pleasure and all. So he picked up his pace, and gave the monstrous lupis a wide birth.

He moved and shifted as just another part of the vegetation. His mottled cloak and fluid movement ensured that only the most perceptive would notice him, and even then only as movement in their peripherals. He would be extremely difficult indeed to spot with a more directly focused stare. He also moved with nigh complete silence, expertly navigating the dense fauna and disturbing as little of it as possible, careful shifting his feet under or around twigs and other such hazards to stealth.

Of course, he couldn't move too quickly like this, as it was virtually impossible to avoid noise altogether, and much more than his current pace would be too noticeable for his liking. Besides, every other creature with brains in this mess would also be moving at a similar pace, as the element of surprise was paramount in a world full of hunters. So it wasn't much of a surprise that he'd passed up the massive lupis, as it had to move much more slowly to mantain stealth (although it did seem oblivious to the occasional light shows it was putting on). He spotted the woman, now being adviced by a sympathetic veteran, and knew instantly that the area was already filled with predators stalking here, more than the lupis and more than the big cat in the cage (he couldn't spot it, but he knew it was there, like a sixth sense born of years of experience as well as common sense).

And so, his next move was painfully measured and slow, trading even more speed for stealth, as he scaled a nearby tree and waited, a contented smile on his face. They had at one point come close to noticing him, but had failed due to luck. As could only be expected in such a game- no one was perfect and he was rather jubilant.

And the Lupis followed shortly, the spark of electricity being painfully bright in its suddenness, giving just enough time for the woman to react, though the veteran had heard the hulking thing moving, and reacted with much more effectively, though the woman's speed surprised it.

Unfortunately, however, the beast, missing its lunge, had rolled straight into the electrical fence, giving off a massive crack of both metal being pounded as well as electricity. There was a visible shockwave that reverberated and rippled in the air, as if the creature had smacked into a barrier similar to the one that defended the city as a whole.

The thing was skewered by fearsome spike protrusions on the fence, before being catapulted backwards with a blinding flash of energy as the electric energy that had been on him earlier was discharged into the fence, resulting in the electric field on that fence, as well as the ones immediately connected to it, to light up in brief flashes before going dark again. The electric field had likely malfunctioned.

Jack could see what was coming as the beast struggled not to make a sound of distress from the pain, instincts keeping it quiet so as not to attract the more powerful predators.

The big cat that had been lurking in the fence now reached out from its confines and attempted to seize the woman in its fierce claws. Although weighing a few hundred pounds less than the lupis, it was still made of almost pure muscle and still outweighed a human several times over, as it growled in victory. It had been nearly blinded by the flash of light, and had stabbed itself in several places on the spiked fence in its rabid attempt to reach the woman, but it's depth perception was injured and it may have seen a premature victory.

The lupis began to get to its feet, hackles raised, now baring a look of absolute uncensored rage and fury. It had left a rain and trail of blood in the air from its new wounds, but was still very much alive. Its pupils had dilated, and though it no longer crackled with electricity, its hair still stood on end and made it look much larger than it actually was.

And now, Jack truly did laugh. Hysterically so, and with reckless abandon. The best part was he hadn't planned any of that, and had no real control over the situation at all. But that's what made it so fun!

He heard screams from throughout the overgrown Den of Horrors now, from man and beast alike, which mingled beautifully (in a crazy kind of way) with the sounds of the forest. Even Jack's laugh seemed to fit right in. Lots of noise, and lots of chaos. Something an inexperienced being may mark as odd, however, is that the monsters were more concerned with eating each other and not being eaten themselves than eating the comparatively weak mortals, although they would take the opportunity to snap one up heartily enough.

And with the big cat's fence now structurally weakened, things were about to get interesting indeed.

“If it isn’t Vardis’ pet human,” Acquelliel growled in the common tongue of the city and unfurled his wings to throw the man away from him. Acquelliel turned to the man, his eyes showing nothing but distaste towards the human. “You would do well to not touch me unless absolutely necessary, and be thankful that you are so pathetically weak, I would have hoped that Vardis would have had the foresight to explain the truths of the language to you. There is a reason speaking of it is few and far between. Also, your pronunciation is atrocious.”

Acquelliel realized his hands were balled in anger, so he took a deep breath. The buzzing of the “motor” in his armor, made him grateful that he installed a power output dampener. It was for when the Hosts took to the planet for liberation, so that they wouldn’t attract too many creatures with their magical energies. Funnily enough, it was Vardis’ theories and experiments that led to the creation of a way to hide how much power an angelic had until the installation of the “bubble.” It was strange to Acquelliel, but Lord Vardis earned his right so he had no place to question, was Vardis willingness to use humans. It seemed cruel at best, but then again Acquelliel heard he was a strange one at best.

Acquelliel remembered the lessons well. His teacher made sure he understood the very nature of the language, because you had to listen when a superior was talking.

Our language is one of magic, using the sounds of creation itself. An angel commands another because he has the power to, this is shown through the bursts of one’s magical power at the end of a statement. To truly speak, you must have magic. To have people follow is to have the power to command itself. A man will heed your words because he has to, not necessarily because he wants to or agrees with you. An angel will simply have the thought that is something they have to do. And so that is why the higher on the hierarchy you go, the more powerful the angel is. The older you get, the more of your magic you can control and therefore use in speaking. This means you can tell an individual’s talent by age but also how compelled you are to follow. But speak carefully in our illustrious tongues outside the inner rings, with those of a lesser race, you run the risk of causing physical and mental pain as their body tries to cope with the magical assault inherent in an Angel’s voice. That is why more often than not we learn other races speech for social and practical reasons.

"Also I am not a part of the squad, I was just assigned to watch over it."

Kat was about to respond to Eos, but then a loud crack of electricity sounded from one side. A grimace of pain from whatever caused it had followed. There was something in between the bars, something which had broken off a loose piece of metal. It slowly rose, in the darkness it seemed it had no eyes. It slowly made its way out, the whole den of horrors was now in utter darkness, the beast had somehow overloaded the entire circuitry. Kat’s face was of one of pure horror, another beast sounded from behind. A huge cat, slithered out of the other cage. It took only a moment, but Kat sprinted off in the direction not enclosed by the two beasts.

The beast, the one that looked like a cat stood now menacingly at one side, while the other, the hyena-like wolf at the other side. Both of their pure black, pupil-less eyes glaring over Eos, who was more in their way, more than in their taste. The cat snarled, showing its set of glistering sharp pearly whites, it had two prominent fangs that protruded from its mouth, saliva ran down its mangy face, dripping in thick globs in anticipation. The dog, laughed once again. Eos’s eyes darted to it, trying to get a better look but in that second the cat charged at him. Claws were slashing out, Eos darted to the side but the cat was even faster and changed its direction and it took every ounce for Eos to duck down, missing the serrated claws. The cat roared out, the dog now leaped through the air, its head met its abdomen and the force threw both of them into the trees, which splintered and then suddenly another loud crack sent the tree tumbling down. The cat was dazed, and enraged by the act and was slashing out randomly at the dog’s back, which wasn’t in a good position, and blood was spraying from all directions, blood from the hyena.

Eos knew this was a better chance than any and sprinted off immediately to get out of the clutches of the beasts. He wanted to lead them away from wherever Kat ran off to, sooner or later one of them would win. If only he knew how fast that was, sprinting through the foliage, a loud thudding noise which repeated came from his side. A branch snapped. Eos suddenly threw himself at one side and a sprawling dark figure propelled itself into another tree, pieces of wood arched out everywhere. Eos was rolling down the hill side which he threw himself to. Ground and small stones stretched his skin as he made his painful decent, he reached the bottom and was slung over, landing on his back. He was glad he ditched his backpack in the sprint as to not get caught in anything, or so the beasts of the den couldn’t catch him easier. Upon throwing though, he had noticed the evenly spaced slash marks from when the cat had swiped at him earlier. Eos sprung to his feet, the beast would be on him in seconds. He had come to the Witchlock tree area. The trees were extremely tall, and sprawled in large Tallous Thorn branches, it was also easy to climb for smaller creatures, such as humans. The cat would have a difficult time. He quickly untied his rolled up steel-cotton rope and run it in lengths. He tied the rope into multiple knots and threw it over, catching onto the Thorn branch and tightened before he used a level to lodge the rope on the ground in a circle. He then jumped, pulling himself on a branch before he felt the tree shake with a loud thud. The cat had thrown itself at him whilst he was grounded. The cat stared, before grinning devilishly. It started at the tree, clawing and slashing in utter confide that it was going to eat another meal.

The tree started to groan, the cat backed off and stepped to where Eos wanted it too. He pulled on the steel-cotton rope and it caught the beast by the legs, it fell to the ground struggling and with each attempt to gain its freedom, made the rope tighten even more. The Rope lay hinged to the tree, it wouldn’t get loose. Then, there was a loud snap and the tree’s side was beginning to turn. It was falling down. The cat, however was directly in its path. Eos leaped off the thick branches, some of the sharper twigs scratching on his skin. Eos misjudged his jump and landed a bit too close to the beast below. Close enough to slash while he rolled in midair. Eos felt a warm trickle form on his shoulder, the cat roared out, and then there was another loud thud. The cat however, continued to roar in pain.

Eos felt the stinging on his shoulder, the beast had slashed him, but it was just a scratch. He tore off fabric and turned to the best lying on the floor. The thick tree had fallen against its body, rendering it defenseless, defeated or so it seemed. It was then the beast started making louder, repeating roars. It was in a pattern, and it wasn’t all too random, it was calling for other beasts, signaling it to a free meal and Eos. It just wanted Eos to fall, and that would be enough. It wanted revenge, and it couldn’t administer it, so it wanted another beast to avenge it. Eos picked up his axe, which laid to the side of the hill he had fallen down. He had let it go while he was falling, so it didn’t injure him.

He turned back to the cat, and it looked back at him with its soulless black eyes, and grinned. But before Eos could throw the axe, a wicked laughter once again sounded. Eos still gripped the axe in his hand, and turned for a split second before a heavy thud from the tree that was on the cat rolled over. The cat now stood ominously, albeit in deep pain, the moon’s shadow stretching the cat’s figure, which now all but loomed over Eos. Foliage moved, something darted out from the darkness. Laughter once again filled the air and Eos rolled over to one side before that beast crashed into the cat. The dog was back. Eos decided it was best to make a run for it, making his way while the sounds of the two beasts fighting continued on. A loud last roar echoed, before it fell into silence.

“Bloody expensive piece of s**t,” Eos cursed while dodging thin trees, he had used one expensive piece of rope that he wouldn’t be able to get back. It had been worth it, he was alive at least. Eos stopped for a second and tore the fabric he held in his hand into smaller pieces with which he tied on his slowly bleeding wound on his shoulder. It seemed the cats claws, whilst sharp and fearsome were coated with something which acted as some sort of antihemorrhagic agent. It liked to eat its prey alive, it seemed. Well at least he would always have the cat’s devilish grin, and a scar to match to remind him of it.

For now he was just running in the direction from where he started, sliding back through the cage which contained the latter of the two beasts. He was glad the electric fencing was still off, but at the same time it meant that other creatures could probably get free. He looked back down, Kat’s footprints lead somewhat deeper into the forest, but it was definitely towards an entrance. He then could make out two figures out in the distance, or maybe it was three. A human, an angelic and the other one could be Kat, but he couldn’t be sure. He approached them, making sure to be as silent as possible. Well, as silent as he could be with a load of dead branches and twigs on the floor