old man moomba

Dwig had been looking for Ciera for some time now, but hadn't managed to find her. He'd saved the harbor for last, because he hated being near the water. He slowly walked through the harbor, scanning the workers for Ciera. Most of the workers saw his guns and gave him a wide bearth. He noticed a girl standing by the harbor wall, looking out of place. Maybe she knew something. He carefully made his way over to her. @BookishOcelot

Dwig grabbed the whiskey and coffee mix and drowned it in a single gulp. Feeling more alert, he checked his pocketwatch. "Well, Malu, thanks. I've gotta run." he tossed a few crysts on the counter and walked out, a spring in his step.

"And there it goes." Dapper muttered "Once again, the Meta causes collapse." The Meta, a symptom of Narration. All Narators had to face it, but only the strongest, smartest, and totally nsane Narrators could survive it and remain a Narrator. The others, well, one could call them alive. They retained sentience, at least. Dapper sighed, he had faced the Meta long ago, but had rationalized it, retaining this form. Of course, that rationalization was slowly driving him crazy, but that was minor. The Being above him could just create another body for him when he finally broke. Infinity, that was his rationalization. There were an infinite number of levels, each containing a Being which conrolled the level below it and was controlled by the level above it. There was a top... somewhere. And since Dapper controlled reality, this wasn't a theory. It simply was.

A rifle pressed up against Jorrel's head. "Don't move," a deep voice said, "If you value your head. Now, on your knees." the security officer gestured to his partner, who removed a set of renforced cuffs from a slot in his armor.

The UI is a lot more user friendly. And it looks nicer.

As soon as the first shot had been fired, several turrets of the exterior of the station targeted the fighter's RCS system and destroyed it. Another, larger turret, destroyed the communications equipment. The spacecraft was dead in the vacuum. Then the railgun finished charging. A titainum slug ripped through the fusion core, cutting off all power.

This is hilarious. I edited my profile. Although I can't add my PFP.

The terrifying strength of the Lawyer is inomparable to the infinite stamina of the Union. For the Union is well protected, but hits slowly. And thus it was written that the roleplaying shall begin in earnest and the Breakgaurd shall have his perspective written. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Jameson stood, arms crossed, observing the battlefield. The Lawyers were charging at the Union's line, but were continuously pushed back by the heavy artillery mounted in the hills. Stickquisitors cut through the battle, their Shardsticks at odds with the normal troops' weapons. Stickquisitors fought on both sides, but a majority had gone with the rebels. Jameson returned to his emperor's tent, taking up a position behind the throne.

Doc smiled sadly "Well, I guess Ash was pretty old..." He paused "I'm glad you found your way here. When I first became Radiant, I had to do it on my own. You, however, get help."

Let us, those faithful to the Throne be praised and rewarded by the Grat Tall Ones. In other news, the Emperor's failthful guardian has arrived, a Knight of the Stick. Name: Jameson "The Branch" Rank: Emperor's Breakguard Has a Shardstick made from Western Red Ceder and regrowing pine armor.

*noises*

And thus it was written by the Stick Imperial Bank that all who ursurp against the Throne shall owe two and one half times their wealth. And lo, the tax collecters come, slow, yes, but unstobable, by any force known to Man, Singer or Stick.

"What?" Yera rubbed her eyes.

Yera considered her options. She wasn't fast enough to draw and shoot her pistol before the fighter's cannons fired. She could try takling him, but that was unlikely to help in any way. There was only one option, then. She took a breath, steeling herself, then closed her eyes. 7 cybers detected in range. a deep voice rumbled in her head, Select targets. Yera stared into the facemask of the masked man. Target Acquired. Manipulation ready. Please confirm. Confirm Yera thought coldly. Confirmed. Manipulation engaged. Yera's cybernetics locked on to the masked man's and forced their way through. A second data stream appeared in her head. That would be his power armor. Another, larger data stream flowed into her head. His ship. She accessed the weapon controls and disabled all exterior weaponry. Throughout all of this, a headache poundeded in her skull. It abated somewhat when she remembered the merc would have an even bigger one. She finished and stopped the manipulation, collapsing into a chair.

Your request for aid has been heeded by the 17th Shard Nonexistent Guild Coalition. Members of the Butt Venture Fan Club, Mistborn Can And Do Make Sense Foundation, and the Shard Tax Collectors' Union have arrived to aid the Emperor.

The Thread Necromancy Board has voted to deny your request for aid. However, members of the Mistborn Can And Do Make Sense Foundation are on their way.

"A Bondsmith?" Doc spun around "Which are you? Not the Sibling, I hope."

No. I don't really care.

Ok losers. Long haired boi ever here.

"It's open, Cass, come in."

Ciera sat down next to Galvris and Cakuin followed suit. She waved for a waiter, scanning the room for anyone she recognized. @Ark1002

"Twice and twice he shall be marked. Twice to live and twice to die. Once the heron to set his path, twice the heron to name him true. Once the Dragon for remebrance lost, twice the Dragon for the price he must pay." -Collected Chach 1173, 21 seconds pre-death. Subject was a darkeyed farmer. From the propheices of the Dragon.

"Sure." Dwig rubbed his eyes, slumping down on the bar.