Dark Rainian Arrival [Open to all!]

[Lord Synical]

"Who is anyone?"

A curious answer from the... man... caused Lucien to blink. Of course, that putrid stench was nearly clogging his lungs and his heightened senses of taste and smell was becoming a bit of a bother, but somehow the Crown-Prince doubted it was a natural occurance. Grimacing, he brought on arm up as if to shield his face and backed away some; eyeing the veiled creature with pulsing ruby eyes. "I'm not sure if you're aware, friend, but that area seems to smell a tad... repulsive. I mean you no harm, I'm merely a traveler who was brought to these lands by... The Cabal? Somesuch organization like that. I was wondering if you could show me to their Command Centre and possibly a hangar wherein I can place my Core Hunter." At that, he gestured to the gleaming bipedal war machine crouched behind him, its emerald eyes dull and lifeless. "I need to perform maintenance but have no access to tools in this strange land. I assume from your garb you're a keeper in these gardens?"

All the while, Lucien maintained an air of regal authority. It wouldn't be too hard to chance a guess at him being a Noble, but the adornments of his armour and precious gems set therein alluded to something grander. Nevermind the blade at his hip within a ceremonial sheath and crested shield on his back. Canting his armoured head, the Pyromancer-Paladin eyed the nearby Orc and Goblin respectively; a touch of curiosity mixed with wariness glimmering in those self-illuminating red eyes before his gaze returned to the clawed figure; stance still telling of the stink's heavy effect. If this kept up, he was going to be forced to retreat or bring up the contents of his stomach. Neither option appealed much to the Elf, but who ever said life was fair?

[Syaoran]

This was the chance Syaoran needed to escape. This man has asumed him power, so why should the fox waste it? It was obvious that this person was of a high class, possibly some form of royalty from the gems and adornment, but then customs may differ from dimention to dimention, this un-named being may be a peasant where he is from, infact, the ground's crust could be made of such gems, and wool is a rare comodity. These thoughts must be recorded, and the truth found. No longer did the beast wish to escape, his curiosity was too great, his duty clear: collect what is unknown so that it is forever comprehended. Once the information has been recorded, then he would escape from the could-be murderer. The water would not be needed so long as this veil of secrecy upheld itself. The claws paw replaced the stopper back into its hole.

"Please forgive the smell, for to us it is beauty, but to you it is hatred. Before I can forefill any request I require a statement of intention and a synopsis of yourself." The fox's right clawed paw faced the hanging book and he focused, the metalic record then flew up into his paw with a clack as metal hit metal. He opened the clasp and flipped it open to the next avalable page. He picked up the charcoal and 'looked' at the elf.

"I shall scribe for you...so the language stays the same. So...lets begin with your name..." The beast held the book in such a way as to stop the man from reading it, but not so it looked obvious that he was hiding it. He was to be official after all, and it was an official record only to be read by officials.

[Lord Synical]

"Please forgive the smell, for to us it is beauty, but to you it is hatred. Before I can forefill any request I require a statement of intention and a synopsis of yourself." The keeper's right clawed paw faced the hanging book and the metalic record then flew up into his hand with a clack as metal hit metal. He opened the clasp and flipped it open to the next avalable page. He picked up the charcoal and 'looked' back to Lucien.

"I shall scribe for you...so the language stays the same. So...lets begin with your name..." At which point, the official held it in a practiced manner. Very good.

"My name is Lucien "Flameweaver" William Lillian Senus-Lytharih, Crown-Prince of the Eletharii Imperium, Adopted Heir to the Diamond Throne of Aelytha, Duke of the Nether Reaches, Bloodline ruler of the Elves and the Burning Throne, Master of the Eternal Flame, Lord of the White Angels Legion, Father of Seth and Raxus, Husband of Katrina. Wielder of Silthrim the Silver Wind, Masamune the Soulripper, Ravager the Righteous, Phoenix Tail the Avenger and Soulreaper the Frostbladed, Avatar of Orodruin the Flaming Angel, King of the Well of the Endtime, Heir to the Worldbender’s Tower, Savior of the Elves, Conqueror of Naxxram Primas, Patriarch of the Island of the Phoenix, Core Hunter Commander of the Eletharii, Annihilator of Malevolence, Champion of the Light."

Once Lucien had completed the litany of naming and titling, he tapped the pommel of his sword idly. Boredom, more than anything. Still trying his best to ignore the smell; he eyed the 'keeper' with some calculating appraisal. "Is there any chance you could shed that... ah... cologne? I really must take objection to it. I fear it will bring up a week's worth of rations if you keep it, and I'd rather not vomit all over an official in a world I've never before visited." What a strange way fate had; bringing him to this land of oddities. Keepers whom smell like R'ai dung, Greenskins, tiny Greenskins, Terrans... it all coalesced into an odd eventuality indeed.

Blinking, the Crown-Prince thumped his helm, glancing to the crimson-coated mecha gleaming in the morning sun. "The Core Hunter behind me is the HMS-108 Alex-NT, an Ultima Class Eletharii Command Unit. It's my personal battlemachine, if that puts your doubts at ease? I could really use a hangar in which to perform maintenace. The Nova Core is at optimal levels but without proper nitrogen coolant refills the pulse emitters might spark out and shoot the Navcom A.I to hell. Think you can help me, sir?" Of course, this scribe would know what he was talking about. After all, these people had contacted him, not the other way around.

[Syaoran]

The beast wrote down every detail, adding notes on his thoughts on each aspect and what could possibly be an outcome as a result of an action to that facet. It was a pre-emptive stradegy guide that Syaoran could make referance to should he move into battle against the warrior. The nickname of the individual confirmed the suspitions of the prince being in connection with fire. Fire was underlined at the bottom of the page.

"Cologne? Unfortunately for yourself, I can not turn off the smell. It is not by choice that I have it, to put it in terms you may understand, if I were a tiger, the smell would be my stripes. I have no choice in them, and can not choose to not have them." The beast took a deep, silent sniff, taking a note of the humanoid's scent, writing a small note of it at the bottom of the page.

The parchment was flipped to begin details on the 'battlemachine', a little circle was placed above the word indicating it required a definition. Once the definition is found, the circle is ticked. Hanger and Command Center was also with similar circles. The definition circles were applied more to the document, confusing the beast but not baffiling him. Most of what is known is infact miniscule, so he was prepared to not understand most things told to him.

"I can not help you until all the formalities are completed in full. No matter where one goes, good paper work keeping is always a nessesity, even if it is boring...I must inform you however that there is no hangar here. Feel free to go back through the portal whence you came, leave it there and return. Portals are generally two way. And I must also state that there is a low tollerance of...animated material." He motioned towards the hulking battle suit, "You see...it is desirable to keep out foriegn things out of this dimention, as moving metal and rock without direct magical manipulation is...well, foriegn. It was expected that one competitor would come per invitation, plus maybe a live familiar, not a...golum." Syaoran cleared his throat and fixed the charcoal in his metalic paw, "Let us continue...please describe your armaments, defences and abilities, and if you have any, allergies or intollerances..."

[Laureolus]

This was not how Laureola wanted take the portal to this “Garden of Secrets.” A day of public celebration, followed by triumphful Ovation down the Via Sacra to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus despite her lack of any achievement yet, ending with hours of overstuffed Senators and Tribunes trying to spin Laureola’s acceptance of the invitation into political gain for themselves. Her relief was palpable when her foster father forced them out of the temple for a quiet word before she left.

He pulled Laureola in a tight, if awkward embrace due to the gear she was wearing and asked “ Name for me one last time my favorite virutes?”

Rolling her eyes and smiling into his shoulder Laureola answered “Prudence, in both mercy and justice. Discipline, in both industriousness and humor. Humanity and Honesty to round oneself out”

Pulling himself out of the hug and look Laureola in the eyes, worry creeping into his expression. “Prays for your wellbeing will be added to every sacrifice”

“And yours will be in mine. In the end it is the will of the gods.” And she stepped through, which she instantly regretted. First was the smell, it like a week old battle field that hadn’t had the dead cleared. Second, was the large clothed like a barbarian figure from whom the smell seemed to be emitting. Barbarians were bad enough, much less ones who smelled so.

“H-hail” Laureola managed out, glancing between the clad warrior in front of her and the figure. Keeping a watchful glance on the covered figure as she asked, “I take it we don’t have a helpful receptionist to give us a tour?”

[Gordie]

At that particular moment, an odd looking fighter jet flies overhead.

'The only other piece of technology on this frakking rock, and its a freaking anime mecha.' Nikolai redmond thought to himself. It was not something he was expecting. 'Perhaps anime is given real form in this.... area.'

The odd looking jet fighter flew off to the south a few hundred meters and lands with a large thump. A few mechanical whirs occur as Nikolai presses a few buttons and the L-A-M goes into Walking mode, its firepower more at the fore.

(insert mist for effect) It is a couple of minutes before those standing there realize that it is the same thing that flew by, but in another form, and by that time the battlemech has stopped in front of the smaller anime vehicle. Another couple of minutes pass by before the elevator starts to decend from mid-cockpit level and a battle armoured figure approaches, leaving not much more someone can do for an enterance.

"You." The mechanical sounding voice says, pointing to Lucien. "This is YOUR machine, quiaff?"

[Lord Synical]

Arrogance.

Pupils of molten gold blazed beneath their armoured confines, the Crown-Prince barely giving a glance to Laureola as plate booted feet pivoted on the soft earth; blade drawn forth from within its sheath in a flash of crystal; the Knight sparing a cursory, analytical glance at the larger unrefined machinery that dared to invade so close to his own. Red irises aglow with crimson fervour; his knees bent the slightest, a protective stance adopted against this unknown, possibly hostile intrusion.

Was he protecting the 'Keeper' and Woman?

Warning never came; the precious stone that comprised the blade of his mysterious Longsword illuminated in a display of light to hurt the naked eye. It blazed like the morning sun so high overhead amidst the cloud-dotted blue skies, a beacon of hope to his allies and symbol of despair to foes. A Paladin? Indeed, a Warrior of the Light; dedicated to all things righteous. Like a predator he moved, shifting forwards into a more aggressive stance to twirl his blade twice overhead before pointing the tip towards this new being, poised as if he were the hand of fate itself.

White fire licked the sword's surface.

A towering Knight, a Hero of stories; his Crown held weight upon stoic shoulders, every line of his body poised in such a way as to allude to the knowledge he so openly shared. A Prince among Warriors, a King among Elves. Such power there was in harmonious tones; exhuming from beneath the crystal-steel faceguard as if it were not there at all.

"I do indeed claim sovereignty over that masterpiece. To whom do I speak, stranger? Why do you come before a peaceful gathering with such assumed hostility?"

An unbreakable will, a wall of iron. Confidence filled every syllable, betrayed a cool countenance that belied the predatory meditation in which he had enraptured his mind. The void was his, claimed the moment of possible confrontation. Detachment from himself, oneness with his blade and his enemy, with those around him and the hulking forms of metal that incurred such jealous pride. A warming breeze swept with it a scent of power lying ready, a dormant decimation howling against its master's control, baying to be released of such confinement.

Soul Energy seared his veins, filled his form; he was ready, he was waiting. Only time would tell if the virgin soil would taste blood that day.

Not my best post ever x.x
Hoping this doesn't devolve into a fight.
We bring you peace!

[Gordie]

Nikolai's Visor reflected most of the searing light that came from the gem, but he still had to close his eyes momentarily. A worthy challenge, maybe, but a fight would not break out unless it was demanded. To the outside world it appeared that nothing had happened to him when the light came, and no response was returned until his eyes had fully adjusted.

The two point five meter tall metal clad warrior pointed with his right hand at the creature, and then at himself. "I am Point Commander Nikolai Redmond, of the Clan Jade Falcon." Came from the external speakers. "I wish no fight, but brokering by your weapons compared to mine, you have no clue what I am capable of, Freebirth."

"I merely wish to know more about this plac he. The fact that you gather here indicates that here is where I must go." He added without any inflection.

To Emphasize his point, he fired up his jumpjets on the armour and sailed clear over the Mecha design, with almost 10 meters to spare before touching it, and turned around once he landed.

Using what remained of his targetting scanners, he began to record it's capabilities down in the suit's databank for further knowledge. Until this is finished, Nikolai makes no move, agressively or defensively.

(OOC: The right arm of the suit of armour ends in a flamethrower. and the extra .5 Meters is the SRM Packs attatched to the back)

[Syaoran]

More golums, this place must be filled with the attrocities. Rather than running, as would be custom when aggression was shown, the beast stood there writing everything he observed. He heard the woman but gave her no heed, concentration was needed. Syaoran slowly began moving away from them, not to escape but to get a wide view of the soon to be battlefield. Sketches were being done of both animated elements. The following entry placed afterwards:

ToC Location - Day One

Lackaday. I have found myself in a strange dimention with odd florah. I wish to pick and sample them but unfortunately there are others here. Humans. Humanoids are also here, they may be allies but have not done much. One "Flameweaver" is digusted by my oder, which means he can smell, and that he must be of a 'clean' society. No one knows who I am. As far as they are concerned, I am a 'keeper' of this place, a worker of The Cabal. I did not confirm nor deny this, thus not lying to the man. I have a detailed entry on who he is, but not what he can do. The battle interrupted too soon.

[Laureolus]

Another colossus. The gods must boil with rage at these blasphemous works. Especially Redmond’s Colossus, with feet augmented onto the body of that horrid steel bird that had flown by earlier. Still, punish not those undeserving. Perhaps if they would move on to pray the nearest city they could be spared the wrath of the gods. And food of course, but only as an added bonus. Whatever means the Cabal used to bring Laureola here had left her hungry.

Now glancing between Syaoran and Redmond, Laureola proposed ,“Perhaps then, since we’ll be leaving the fighting to later, we may move along the path towards wherever it leads? The Cabal’s means of transport have left me ready for a noon-day meal, then maybe we’ll see what else this place hides?” As she made ready to move, Laureola pulled her shield off her back to shade herself from the noon-day sun for the coming march.