#1 Posted by Solace (185 posts) - - Show Bio

World Summit Meeting

“Now taking the floor, Wesley Weston the Third, Owner of Wesscorp”; Weston took to the floor marveling the pyramid structure of the auditorium.

The pyramid is the ultimate symbol representing the mysteries of ancient civilizations. Sublime in their simplicity, divine in their proportions, they embody both the divine knowledge owned by the illuminated and the bewilderment of the masses.

Weston as well as many prestigious families around the world understood these mysteries the believed, they are the heirs of this ancient wisdom and use the pyramid as a symbol of power in the modern world.

“In 1815, my ancestors worked to create a government, a one world government; it was an ambitious endeavor that was eventually put down by Tsar Alexander I of Russia.” Weston stated, peering into the darkness.

“I’m here, to discuss the possibilities of bringing a new “City-State” into the world; this city-state would be the new command center for all worldly affairs” His voice was crisp and confident; there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the charter for the city would get approved.

“I’ll remind you, that everyone currently here, is in debt to my family; I can make those debts go away, I need you guys to return to your countries and make this happen”.

He knew what he was asking some of these countries to do, go against the civil liberties it had given to its people. Truth be told, there was no room for “Civil Liberties” in the future.

“What’s so special about this…”City-State?” the head counselor asked, trying to make sense of Weston’s proposal.

“This city will be the shining example of government responsibility, a police state if you will; “Super-Humans aren’t legally liable for their actions anywhere else, in my city they will be”. Weston leaned against the podium watching as the counselors deliberated over his proposal.

“We WILL agree to this business endeavor Mr. Weston; only on the grounds that YOU yourself are not allowed to oversee the legislators placed into power.” The counselor proclaimed, trying to keep some form of checks and balance on Weston.

“Of course” Wesley responded, nonchalantly. His intentions were not to govern Solace City, more so to set up his own totalitarian government.

Somewhere in Iran at a Wesscorp excavation site.

“So this is the legendary Armor of God?” Sam knelt down with a pick-axe in her hand; a large aged trunk lay on the ground before her. Pushing the tool up she slammed it down on the lock, the trunk popped. From within the contents of the trunk she saw what appeared to be a freshly polished suit of armor.

The aura radiating from the suit kept Sam from looking directly at it; “It really exist…” she gasped, removing her camera to snap a picture. Before she snaps the picture, the armor rose due to divine means, the supernatural force caused her to stumble backwards.

Without hesitation the “Armor of God” dispersed throughout the world. “I…don’t think I was supposed to do that…”

A low growl resounded through the temple, a dark and sinister force brushed pass her body causing a feeling of nervousness. Running back the opposite way, she sped through the temple as if she were being chased by a malevolent spirit.

“What what’s the matter?!” Ashley screamed, keeping watch over the entrance to the temple. “I think…something was chasing me…” Sam responded coughing over the buildup of dirt under her nose.

“You didn’t…move the Armor of God did you?” Ash asked taking a look in her book. “I opened the chest and it vanished.” Sam responded, slapping the dust off her thighs.

“That’s not good, that’s not good at all; the Armor of God was tucked inside that chest and was supposed to keep the spirit of the desert king inside.

“As if Hollywood didn’t conjure up enough spirits” Sam said, climbing in the back of her jeep wrangler. “That’s not even the worst part…the Armor of God; will conjure the worst fears of its wielder if used for the wrong reasons.” Ashley explained, trying to keep her hat on.

“If I know how God works, it’s not going to be just an individual thing.” Sam removed her hat allowing her hair to blow wildly behind her. “Well it’s a good thing, the armor is naturally drawn to the king.”

The pieces of the armor spread out across the world to individuals at random; much like the armor pieces so did the spirit of the desert king.

#2 Posted by Maximus_Newcastle (2407 posts) - - Show Bio


It's been 15 long years since he'd visited the Holy City, no good memories were tied with this place. It was to him, the hell most came here to seek reprieve from. But this was where it started, if he could find any clue to the Templar, his mother, and the link between them, it would be here at the root of his bloodline and the separate sect of Knights, the Templar De Varius.

The city is packed body to body under the scorching sun as Maximus sifts through the crowd's upstream of people, taking a sharp turn in the center of the heard down a long alleyway. The Assassin Knight presses his back to a shaded indent in the brick wall, peering around the corners before opening his duffel and equipping his suit and helmet, activating the night vision and low capability CPU, the eye holes from the outside completely white as he stares at an HUD while the systems loads, measuring the distance between each gap on the walls and street and running probabilities on possible parkour routes.


Running across the thin center beam of the sloping red clay rooftops he can feel his adrenaline begin to flow on it's own as the mask shows the five bodies directly below's heat signature. He jumps without hesitation and does a front flip,breaking his fall with their bodies, the momentum projecting them outward like an explosion into the narrow walls

Giving them no time to recover he begins using a capoeira like flip kick, digging his heel into the sternum of one and rolling off of his chest to slice another's throat with his heels' blade, the blood delayed as the steel holds his essence inside. Maximus' eyes narrow beneath the mask as he spins to the side reflexively to the sound of the clap of boots on dirt, red liquid spraying the guard running from behind in the eyes as the heel blade exits, death coming quickly as Maximus delivers a bone shattering hook to the sneak attackers jawline, Max could feel his jawbone unhinge and pop backwards into three pieces from the force, collapsing from the pain

The last stands nervous against the far wall only gripping his baton but not having any intention to swing it. Max slowly presses his gauntlet to the man's face, playing off of his paramount fear

"<Ch-church, of the Holy Sepulchre, deep beneath the main house there are tunnels, catacombs. None but the Grand Master hold a map I swear it on the lord himself.>"

Narrowing his gaze, Maximus looks into the man's eyes, sensing the truth, "<I believe you>" The blade sings as it unsheathes and enters the guards mouth, disconnecting his brain stem. Pulling the grappling gun from his grey leather belt, The assassin leaps and vaults across the roof towards the gleaming unmistakable beacon-like cross atop the Church.

As the Cross grows larger in the horizon the HUD reads only under 200 yards. Bending his knee to make a jump, Max catches himself, something bright falling in the now star dotted sky; he thought it was a cometuntil the sand spreads like a wave, the sound of cracking thunder following a second behind carried by a harsh breeze.

Looking between the golden cross and the smoke rising from the desert, the assassin knight weighs his choices.The Church or the object.

Looking to the symbol on the Church he clenches his fist, then releases, shooting the grappling hook behind him at the opposite building, swinging towards the desert.

#3 Posted by SurelockeHomes (2197 posts) - - Show Bio

Berkeley, California

Seven days ago, Sam answered a call to arms issued by older brother Gregory. Arrangements didn’t take long. An agreement was made to meet at a loading dock outside a warehouse in Berkeley, California where they would put their skill with combat to test against one another. A duel, like in the days of kings. Simple enough, at a rudimentary level.

Of course, that’s only if one is to go in unprepared. As soon as things were settled, Sam set out to find a man of similar stature as himself and with a face to possibly pass for him, at least from afar. He’d found a man called Mortimer who fit the bill well enough, and with a bit of a makeover, they were able to make him in his spitting image, for the most part. In exchange for a large sum of money, he was able to be bribed to go along (a sum which Sam really had no means to pay), and immediately afterwards they flew out to scout the area. Now Mortimer stood in the loading bay below, while Samuel scoped from a watchtower though a sniper rifle.

“A-are you sure about this? What happens if it doesn’t work?” Mortimer whispered nervously through his earpiece.

“You already know what happens then. Jam your hype, speak as I do and do what I say, and if all goes according to plan, we’ll be fine. Be nimble.” The response came with a sort of detachment that wasn’t exactly reassuring. Almost entirely apathetic.

The opposition left no time to retreat. Not a second later, another presence was detected on the far side of the bay at the ground level.

“I-I see him,” Mortimer stammered.

“Straighten your knees. Stand up tall, but not too tall, and roll your shoulders back. Don’t say a word. This will all be over soon.” His orders came out sternly, but at least they showed concern, and that small bit was enough to reassure poor Mortimer. Sam slowly steadied the rifle, bringing the reticle over the man’s head. Only, something was wrong. His focus was thrown by something off in the periphery of his vision.

A subtle glance up to the roof of an adjacent warehouse opposite the watchtower Sam rested in. He looked up just in time to see a...rocket? fired from the top floor, headed directly toward him.


He saw it coming, but his body would not even try and move to avoid it. The most he could muster was to close eyes and brace for impact, for all the good that would do. Not a second later, he felt the pound against his chest and the heat of the explosion inside the watchtower, and he plummeted down to the concrete.

Sam awoke some time later to the sounds of Mortimer’s calling. “Hey, Sammy? Hey, Sam. Dammit, Sam, can’t you see how worried I am? Oh, hey. You’re awake. You still gonna pay me?”

“Shove off, you wanker! I’ll pay you.” He waved him off with his hand.

“You should be dead right now. That’s, like, an act of God. Divine intervention.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sam muttered to himself. “I must be immortal already.” At that moment, he sat up and realized he was almost completely naked, save for a shield covering his bollocks. “My God, Mortimer! What exactly were you doing to me while I was out!?”

“Nothing at all. Found you like that, I swear. Your brother took off as soon as you got blew up.” And he gave a smug smile, extending his hand. “Please, keep it covered.”

“Oh, of course. Clothes! We’re about the same size. Get them and meet me back here in about a half an hour.” Sam pulled himself up by Mortimer’s hand and bode his “twin” depart, his eyes lingering on the shield still covering his crotch.

#4 Posted by Blood Type (10 posts) - - Show Bio

Smithfield Virginia.

The constant solitary sound of a single drop of liquid hitting the ground each time echoed throughout the hospital. “hehehe drip, drip, drip, drip!” his maniacal voice repeated the rythmatic pattern of runny blood. Stretched out all across the hospitals were the bodies of various patients, nurse, doctors, janitors anyone who had a strong faith in some sort of religion.

Those who didn’t got it worst, instead of being slaughtered and left sautéing in a pool of their own blood, the spirit of the desert king had been absorbing them; using their fear of the unknown to fuel his own desires.

They strolled around the idle town, their minds completely owned by the desert king.

“Very -very nervous I am, free from the wages of sin you ARE!!!!” the plasma like beast screamed at the cadaver of a woman lying upright against the wall. “Tis a shame, 20 centuries inside a tomb will do that to you; do you think I’m insane…answer me!”

“Yes, yes the armor of god is powerful, but you see beautiful, beautiful woman; the armor cannot harm the people of god” the spirit bragged, watching as one of his faithless zombies walked into a door. The door wouldn’t budge, but neither would the zombie.

“Yes, Yes, Yes that fellow…he knows!” He said, pointing towards the man. His conversation with the cadaver came to a sudden halt. There was someone, someone who believed…still alife. “STILL ALIVE!!!” the crimson spirit rushed down the hall way.


His plasma-like foot kicked in the door to the infant care nothing. There was nothing, nothing but the cold stare of death leering back at him. Side stepping to the next door, he believed he had found his intruder.

This room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, no one would be able to see him enter, and he kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. He could hear the man’s heart thumping, just beating and beating and beating and beating.

The victim’s whimper stifled like the soul overcharged with fear! The moment when a person comes to face with death, was not neigh.

The petrifying king of the desert rested, Stealthy, calmly, and cautiously on the ground, cloaked by the eternal darkness. As the hours passed, the clinic remained absolutely quite; save for the numerous idiots smashing into things periodically.

Patient, Patient, stone cold patient” the moment the man flinched even a bit; The King Lunged, transforming his hand into a pick-axe the insane king cut through the bone and flesh of his victim.

The piercing screams never traveled past this room, blood dripped off his plasma concocted blade; his right hand commenced in chopping the lumpy flesh; whilst the left hand held the flailing man down. “Stop moving! I’m trying to cut off your legs! HAHAHAHAA!”

“Here it comes, can you hear it, can you here it the armor of god cometh hehehehe!!!” The screaming ceased shortly after, this man’s body was tossed outside in a strategic pattern next to other bodies. A message of sorts to the men in helicopters recording”


#5 Edited by Tahereh (147 posts) - - Show Bio

HALO to Hell

Thirty five thousand feet. Josephine set. She waited. Her I-Pod drowned out the screams of the plane.

Nine. This was the ninth time she checked her gear. Stowed in the landing gear of a Alitalia Airbus A320. Called the 'Papal Plane' it was named Città di Fiumicino, and set aside exclusively for the use of the Roman Catholic Church.

The landing gear opened mid flight. Tortured hydrolic systems groaned as the contested horrific air pressure. The sudden suction ripped the Vatican Assassin free, tossing her to spin wildly in jet wake. Freezing cold air slapped her into instantaneous alertness. The world spun wildly on its axis, the horizon flying around in a nauseating circle before her eyes. Her heart rate was as steady as a rock.

Thirty five thousand feet was a long way. She would free fall for a hundred and eighteen seconds. Each second felt like an eternity. Time slowed to a crawl. There seemed to be a century between every beat of her heart.

Above her, only blue. Below her, the puffy white of clouds. The lost LeBeau could not even see the ground, although it raced up toward her at one hundred and fifty seven miles per hour.

Venice rushed toward her. A gory death in the gleam of its lights. A grisly smile in the curves of its streets.

Her right hand reached up to her left shoulder and pulled the chute release.

Nothing happened.

Her heart rate hit seventy beats per minute.

She could see her landing zone with the naked eye. It flew toward her at two hundred and one miles an hour. She clawed for the backup chute release.

Slick with condensation her fingers slipped off the metal secondary release latch.

She could see the tiles on the roof.


Three fingers in the latch, Josephine nearly rips the cord out of the backpack, it snaps open, filling with air in an instant. The harness jerks tight around her like being crushed in the fist of god. But she slows! Down, down, she guides her secondary chute, down to slam into the roof at triple the needed speed.

She can feel her ankle snap.

The vampires below are surely alerted. So much for surprise.

Drawing a knife she cuts the harness from her body, rolling away to hobble to her feet. The blade of the Arashikage is removed from its safety webbing. She heard dozens of supernaturally quick feet pattering up the stairs, and she couldn't move faster than a hobble.

This was going to be a problem.

#6 Posted by Maximus_Newcastle (2407 posts) - - Show Bio

Entering the Judaean desert as the sun rises in the west, Maximus hops out of the cockpit of his customized stealth jet, The Varius to see a rare enigmatic image. The sand stretching half a football fields' length was pure glass, reflecting the plush clouds over head as they pass by, only the sound of cutting wind in the air and a singing hum from the center of the field of crystal. "Defenses" he speaks into a key-chain while looking around waiting for a Templar trap to spring.

Approaching the glass he walks across with a minimal issue thanks to the triple tread climbing cleats specifically designed for parkour and gripping non-pliable terrain. Approaching the center as the sun comes up he can see the shine froma thick piece of metal, each step closer took him out of the blinding light of the sun and closer to what eh slowly realized was a hilt. mere 10 feet away he realized the light wasn't from outside but within the item, a flaming blade piercing the untouched desert.

Reaching for it the Silent Knight gained no Leeway, the hilt burning as he tries to tear it from the ground with no motion in anything but his rough blistered hands. His boots onyl helped with so much leverage on the glass floor, letting go with a huff

"What in God's-" The blade shines brighter and strobes,Max, stepping back and lifting his mask with a slow raising brow "....God." it begins to let out an electric hum.

"JEHOVAH!" The blade leaves the ground and swings in the air above his head before landing again into the ground, inches from his body, a reflexive sidestep avoiding the impaling of his foot.

half an hour later

Running through the dead latin language, he admittedly was rusted in not thinking there would ever be aspoken usage, in his mind the archaeologically verstile apologist finally lands on a possible statement, unsure what the outcome might be, but life was too short, "...JEHOVAH VOLO!" The blade rises, shinging brighter than the north star, what looked like an eye exploding from the hilt as it shoots skybound.

Looking up into the sky the Knightfall stands calm and faithful with his eyes closed and hands out to his side, taking a deep breath *Swoooooooooooooooo!*

He can hear it coming, but he stands his ground, *SWOOOOOOO!*

opening his eyes slowly he catches the image of the point coming down directly towards his face, not fearful of the death it might bring. If it was what he suspected it was the most honorable death a man could have.

The point stops just in front of his eye hovering, a voice like a sensation more than words entering his mind


The hilt slams into his palm, a sound of burning flesh before the sensation came and set off the pain receptors of his mind. Silence as he screams alone in the wasteland, unable to drop the Sword of God

. An all seeing eye embedded and raw on his charred right hand. In his mind flooded an image of a dripping red devil of unparalleled narcissism and devious intent. A sign of a city in Virginia entering his view before flashing him back to the present location.

Without question he brings the blade back to the Varius, entering the ship and placing the Divine executor in the case that ejected from the side of the ship. "Mortimer?"

A clear and prominent british voice replies "Myes sir?"

"Tell me what you know about any murders int he vicinity of a place called...Smithfield, Virginia, narrow search by meta affiliation."

"At once sir. Did you find what you were looking for in Jerusalem?" the fatherly Butler and helpful assistant asks with attentive interest

"...I honestly couldn't say"

"Heh...sounds about right. Searching now" Mortimer says having known many who took the pilgrimage to the Holy City.

The Varius lfits from the desert floor, GPS coordinates locked and set for Virginia