Prismatic

[Llum]

[ic=A time for words]

The men and women, all aged with the look of those used to power, assembled around the table in a cavernous vaulted room looked grim. All wore a silver wrought peridot clasps holding a deep violet cloak around their shoulders. Everyone bore some symbol of rank, diadems belonging to the Violet Senate, silvered swords of the Violet Generals or rarely a notched ear denoting command of a Violet Carrier.

The youngest, a man barely out of childhood, finally spoke. 'Hello friends, we gather at a dangerous time in the history of the seven worlds. The Violet Hold stands at the edge of a bottomless chasm; soon the Splinter-Child hordes will invade and the various factions and powers bicker like children'

An older frost giant, beard trimmed to a point who had both a small amethyst inset diadem on his brow and a great silvered claymore responded. 'We've tried everything possible milord. We cannot negotiate peace between everyone. The Tinmen refuse to work with Orcs, the angels demand vengeance for Arcology, even the academics are up in arms about this damn Mercurial Society business. Nevermind the bloodcursed Whiteblood Rex who eat our envoys. The seven worlds will go down in a tide of black flames milord" here the regal giant's voice took on a pleading tone "Please, come with us when we leave for Mortarion' Others around the table nodded their heads in agreement.

As his words died away two shadows detached themselves from the roof and fell to the ground. Two streaks of black lightning sped from the hands of the elvish assassins towards the youngest speaker only to be deflected by his cloak. Shocked the first elf fell to the ricochet lightning. The second fell soon after nearly cleaved in twain by a blow dealt by the older frost giant.

Through all this the young man stood still, waiting.

A slight rain of dust slowly fell from the rafters, and out of this stepped the form of woman, small, elaborate tattoos obscuring most of her face. She made no move to attack, content to meet every gaze and memorize every face in the room.

'The real attack now, you sacrificed your minions to test my defenses. You clearly think yourself up to the task if you've revealed yourself. Well, no harlot chained to the side of The Artificer will stop me!' declared the young man.

'Daughter' answered the woman in a deep throaty voice. The dust swirled around her like a cloak obscuring her. Drawing a pair of long daggers, the earth trembling once as they left the sheath. She started to slowly advance, long daggers at the ready. 'I'm her daughter'

'Be that as it may, everyone here mark my words' responded the young man, tears of green fire begining to drip from his eyes 'I will unite the warring worlds. The time for negotiation has lapsed. Under my boot or united against me the worlds will be ready and united when the Hordes come. Carry out my final orders" bringing his gaze to the female assassin "You are not the only one who knows the taste of prismatic blood'.

Everyone ran from the room as the dust-obscured woman charged the now flaming pyre of what used to be the young man.

-Last council of the Violet Hold
[/ic]

[ic=A sight worth seeing]
Laughter and music were the first things Sanador Took heard as he rushed towards the officers lounge. It was jarring he thought, the happy laughter opposed to the slow dirge-like music of Margrave Capstone. Normally someone as junior as him would never come within two decks of the fabled lounge, but these weren't normal circumstance. Body pumping with adrenaline he stepped through the door, and was assaulted by various smells such as acrid pipe smoke and the sweet scent of graum flowers. The huge room had three dark teak walls decorated with tin murals, the floor made from lavish pink marble, the ceiling arched with three tin and glass chandeliers dangling like spiralled stalactites. What Sanador was running towars, perhaps the greatest feature of the room, was obscured, one was was a massive amber-glass window, currently obscured by a massive full sized Wyrm-skin, complete with fanged head and spiked wings.

No farther then a single step inside the plush room when Sanador was assailed by new sounds, "Hey!, a cadet!" "Stop him!" "What's a youngster doing in here?" "In my day cadets....", he knew he was going to be in coal-colored trouble as soon as they caught him, but he had no choice. Much to Sanadors dismay one of the officers got up from his seat and stepped to intercept him, a Lieutenant of one strip or another, Bartelbee or Barthalomew. With a quick thought of "Prismatic One forgive me" he stepped onto an empty chair, leapt onto the table, then vaulted onto the poor Lieutenant and with one last bound managed to fly through the air and latch onto the Wyrm-skin. His weight too much for the flimsy nails he fell into a heap of tangled Wyrm-skin, cadet and even managed to ensnare a few of the closer officers, including the now thrashing Lt. Bathalomew. A cry of "Aha! Got the scamp now" came from the assembled officers, along with the muttered cuss-words of those entangled in the Wyrm-skin.

"Enough!", this from the captain of the ship, one Honorable Sur Tevstin Divine. The captain was a silver haired elf with a single piercing golden eye, the other was covered by a silk eye-patch, but a large furrow could be seen descending from his forhead to the patch, and continuing out from the bottom all the way down to his collar, where it was obscured by his high-necked uniform. "What is the meaning of this cadet Took? While your family has a reputation for eccentricies, this is a bit much even from one of you". Arms weak with dread, Sanador could only do one thing, he pointed out the amber-glass wall; "Look..." was all he could manage to whisper.

Gasps arose from a few of those present, most could only manage a shocked silence. In the vastness of the Liquid Void scores of ships could be seen streaming towards their position, this however was not what baffled those gazing into the deep, it was instead a single other ship. This ship, shaped like a cross between jagged crystals and a simple pinecone, wasn't moving. It just loosed volley after volley of projectiles into the streaming ships; massive bolts, spiked spheres of metal and lances of green fire. It was a slaughter, the remains of what looked like a hundred ships drifted slowly around it.

"Prismatic one be praised... Look at the moon!", this from Lt. Bartholomew who had managed to get to his kneeds. As he spoke Virgo, the smallest moon, passed in front of the mysterious attacking ship, trying to eclipse it. It could not, the attacking ship, a crystal monstrosity colored in a violent shade of violet was larger then the small moon.

"Black Blood be damned!" entoned the captain.
[/ic]

[LordVreeg]

Ok, you need to help me here.  I cannot tell who the burning pyre is.
And how the hell does our young man have that much time for his declaration when he's got someone attacking him?

[Llum]

And how the hell does our young man have that much time for his declaration when he's got someone attacking him?

She doesn't attack him right away, surprise is gone because the first assassins so she waits. I'll fix this, trimmed some bits from his speech and clarified the actions of the female assassin a bit.

As always thanks for the feedback Vreeg.

[LordVreeg]

getting better, my friend.  
Don't place the tears of Green fire at the end of that para.  Try to place it where it belongs, as the speech is being made.

Also, "Well, no Harlot..."  you need a comma there.

The Giant's comments about the inability to make a peace seems to be lacking in details, missing a golden opportunity to give deeper data.  I find myslef wondering more about the factions.

[Llum]

Also, "Well, no Harlot..."  you need a comma there.

The Giant's comments about the inability to make a peace seems to be lacking in details, missing a golden opportunity to give deeper data.  I find myslef wondering more about the factions.
[/quote]

Fair enough, I felt the giant wasn't elaborated enough, so I tried to add some more info in general at the begining.

[LordVreeg]

[blockquote=lLUM]An older frost giant, beard trimmed to a point who had both a small amethyst inset diadem on his brow and a great silvered claymore responded. 'We've tried everything possible milord. We cannot negotiate peace between everyone. The Tinmen refuse to work with Orcs, the angels demand vengeance for Arcology, even the academics are up in arms about this damn Mercurial Society business. Nevermind the bloodcursed Whiteblood Rex who eat our envoys. The seven worlds will go down in a tide of black flames milord" here the regal giants voice took on a pleading tone "Please, come with us when we leave for Mortarion' Others around the table nodded their heads in agreement.[/blockquote]
Wow.  That's a huge improvement.  That piques a lot of interest.
add an apostrophe after the Word Giant, as in whose voice is it...

[Llum]

Updated the top post of this page with a new snipper, called "A sight worth seeing".