The latest Faction War story arc is going live- "Goldenblood." Above are NPCs players may encounter. Spectators are welcome: https://discord.gg/JPDxxPQ Below is the Episode 0 storyline intro.
GOLDENBLOOD
Episode
0: Breaking Boundaries
Anduruna. Norvondire District
Tower. Major Maur’s office.
“You’re insane.”
High in a tower, Dawn light
stabbed through Major Maur’s office. Lieutenant Axewing showed no
reaction to the bald insult, back straight, face grim as a reaper.
“Two platoons,” Axewing
repeated.
“You don’t need two
platoons, you have my decision. Dismissed.” Maur sighed, turned
to his desk, began rifling through papers and restoring right angles.
The nerve- a simple fugitive, one bimbo, did not merit such a vast
outlay of lethal manpower. To think that the request had been
delivered in such an arrogant... Presently he realized Axewing
remained. Maur clenched a fist.
“Lieutenant, if you are so
bold as to defy my-”
Axewing raised one arm, dropped
a fat envelope onto the desktop, sending memos fluttering. Maur
picked up the envelope, and a glossy photo dropped out. He felt his
spine turn to water.
“I found this on your desk,
before you entered. From her.” Axewing’s voice was terse.
“Looks like she has blackmail on everyone, doesn’t it?”
The Major rammed open a desk
drawer and stuffed the vile packet out of sight with trembling hands.
“Is- did anyone else see this?”
“Sir, I can promise you on my
honor this is the only copy.” Axewing’s voice was sharp. The
threat was clear.
In short order, the paperwork to
deploy two full platoons of shock troopers, complete with demolition
teams, was completed. Axewing would have absolute command once the
formation left Anduruna territory. The grim falcon left the office
with his commission in an iron grip.
Only later when his mind cleared
did Maur stop to consider why Axewing would want such a massive,
heavily armed force. A quick look at his personnel files revealed an
ugly connection… But surely the man wasn’t that vindictive.
That vengeful. It had only been his wife.
Maur produced a flask, indulged
in a rare shot of burning, joyous illicit fermentae. Picked up the
commlink on his desk.
“Yes… Yes. Patch me
through to the special unit. Quickly.”
Outside northwest Norvondire
Sky Road. Starfall foothills. Near Devil’s Spine.
Thrown to the ground, clothing
askew, Swift landed in a patch of dry leaves with a chuckle. “Ya
know, it’s almost as though I wouldn’t carry my only trump card
in my back pocket.”
The bristling Neon glared down
at her, his fluorescent mohawk a satirical counterpoint to his
bulging arms. A gust of mountain wind made the trees whisper around
them, like an ocean of ghosts. It was lawless out here, but there
were still rules. Supposedly. Hopefully he followed them, because
kicking off her stay in Tamarack Hollow by murdering a sentry would
make things awkward.
She writhed suggestively on the
ground before rising to her feet. Playing with fire was a tough
habit to break.
Shafts of dawn light raining
through the leaves cast a glowing rimlight on the cords in the Neon’s
neck. As she brazenly rearranged her clothing, his nostrils flared.
Better to push the limits now,
and if there was peril, expose it on her own terms. She continued to
fiddle with her clothing, tightening things that didn’t need it.
“Of course, you didn’t
actually check my back pocket. Maybe you just don’t have enough
experience with this sort of thing.”
Swift flounced past the massive
guard, deliberately dusting him with a tail waggle. She leapt atop a
mouldering fallen loveleaf trunk, her fur a bright orange in the deep
forest gloom.
“So- you taking me to camp, or
you gonna try your hand at searching me again?”
The Neon raised one arm. Swift
tensed in her crouch, ready to fight back this time, leap, draw her-
He was holding her dagger.
“All weapons must be checked
in before entering camp,” he squeaked. The voice was astonishingly
high, with a lisp. “Springers must be unloaded at all times. We
shall provide you a receipt for all collected items.”
Based on his speech, Swift
suspected that her attempts at seductive teasing had been entirely
misplaced.
“My name is Dreadlock,” he
continued. “Welcome to Camp Tamarack, and I hope you have a very
fabulous stay.”
Tamarack Hollow. Trading
Camp. Ivy’s Overlook.
Perched on her favorite
overlook, Ivy Bones looked down at Tamarack Hollow. Her camp. Her
responsibility. Morning fog cast a heavy shroud. Treetops rose
resolutely above the mist, vessels in a silky sea, with looming
Starfall peaks eating most of the horizon line beyond. The pure blue
of their slopes was a perfect imitation of the concealed sky.
Woodsmoke and the crisp tang of Starfall trees spiced the chill air.
The camp itself would be quiet
for another hour- mostly. The trading post was littered with stray
early birds, contemplating their lot, indulging in vice and solitude.
Her lodge lay silent, and the cabins & tents dotting the hollow
were dark. A few shrieks echoed up from children, chasing each other
around the teepees.
Ivy grinned at that- Trigger was
a light sleeper. He was probably cursing in his pillow now.
Bitching at the kids was one of his favorite ways of passing the
time. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that all the camp residents
were actually outcasts. Banished from society, deemed too dangerous,
too sinful, for city life. But it was true.
The fog was heavy now, but soon
it would be burned away.
