Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Rise of Mustaigonia

The barren wasteland of Mustaigonia, ripe with volcanic rivers and magmatic lakes, has been void of life since the great war hundreds of years ago, when the people of this land vanished, leaving ruins and unimaginable technology advanced beyond anyone's understanding. Now, 500 years after that devastation, the darkness of this land is returning. The Mustaigonian automatons are coming back to life, there have been sightings of the long lost people, and a foul wind strikes the prosperous kingdom of Lysadonia beside them. A Dark Lord has risen, and under his rule, no one is safe. Can you discover the secret behind the revival of Mustaigonia, or will you too serve the great evil unleashed upon the Lysadonians? Join this roleplay to find your calling in the Rise of Mustaigonia.

Drakoth sat upon his throne of Pyrestone, gazing from his tower to the wasteland that stretched ever longer. Soon, the Lysadonians would pay for crimes of ages past. The red eyes beneath the helm blazed with hatred and anger, but with pride of a kingdom soon restored. The Pyrestone mines were functional again, many cities teemed with renewed life, and Arcol, Lich King of Varkandax, was supplying his army to Netharan's cause. The kingdom was reborn, the magma rekindled, the forges relit, the mechanisms of advanced technology restored, the people returned. The great armoured figure stepped down from his throne to acknowledge the Lich King's arrival. A thousand corpses bowed to the Dark Lord, pledging service to the evil of this cursed land. "Excellent," Drakoth spoke, "Soon, the will of our master will be fulfilled, and we shall rule Lysadonia forevermore." The lich stared blankly at him, his empty sockets a portal to darkness and undeath. "For Netharan." Arcol rasped, his undead army repeating the praise in synch of each other. They left the room, for Arcol desired to speak alone with Drakoth.

"It is nearly time," The Lich King wheezed, "Until our vengeance is exacted. Then, we will have power over all who oppose us." The Dark Lord sat back down upon his seat of authority, returning a flaming glance of pure hatred. "The will of Netharan is not one to be ignored," he agreed, "But the people will need to be taught before they discover their end. Then, we will crush them beneath our boot." He returned his gaze to the barren landscape, watching for the signal to begin their conquest of Lysadonia.

She sat upon the ruins of what was once perhaps a school. Oh yes, it had been a school. It still was of course, but it had nothing to teach except for fables of horror, of slaughter, and of the undying curse that lingered.

Sachiko served no purpose here, that she knew of. But that did not bother her. She didn't need one. She only needed new victims. Their screamed tugged at the corners of her mouth. Their blood made her tattered dress all the more pretty. And the pair of rusted scissors in her hand, far from unused.

But today she had her head turned to Pyrestone.
They were in ruins, but it seemed as though they were being fired up again...
What purpose did they serve?
Did they too, play hide and go seek with purpose?
Or had they already found it, but yet to catch it?

Sachiko grinned from under the black of her long hair.
Curious...
Maybe she could find some fun there....

The forges beneath blazed with such power and heat, but the machines didn't mind. They, too, ran on Pyrestone, the source of energy and weaponry in this twisted kingdom. They tended the forges as their masters returned from the fiery depths of the Netherworld to serve in Netharan's name. The blazing eye that watched upon the tower was fueled by fear and the Pyrestone mined from below the surface knew and saw all that occurred in this land, even the invisible and hidden. That is how he noticed the strange girl that had murdered some people in the city of Gathar near the border. From this sprout would the god of flame grow his tree.

Drakoth still spoke with Arcol until the Voice of Netharan came upon him. "Come to the altar at the spire," it whispered, "we must speak." Drakoth stood up, saying "The voice calls me. I must answer it." Arcol bowed and turned his path to Varkandax to further await instructions.

The altar was made of the same stone used for the throne and tower. It depicted Netharan, sitting on the Infernal Throne, with a sacrificial bowl filled with spines before his feet. Drakoth entered the room, and the Voice spoke again. "Our plan is proceeding as intended," The Voice revealed, "But one matter remains, one that must be resolved before the attack can take place." Drakoth looked confused, answering, "What is this matter, so that I may rid myself of this conquest." "The threat that blocks our plan," the Voice replied, "Is a girl. This girl has slain the returning citizens of Gathar. We must take action upon this." "How must I complete thy will? Through torture or death?" The Dark Servant questioned. "No," The True Dark Lord spoke, "She could be a powerful ally, if she will be turned to my will. Capture her, bring her to Mustaigon, and turn her to our purpose. She will be a force of my hand to show Aitherion that I will not surrender to his ways. This realm will be mine." The servant bowed. "It shall be done, my lord." Drakoth said as Netharan left the area. "One question, my lord," Drakoth mentioned before the Dark Lord left, "How shall I find her?" The Voice took form, an image of Drakoth, but made of pure flame and Pyrestone. "Leave that to me." Netharan smiled.

Sachiko felt the strange flicker of a presence. But for once, she couldn't pinpoint where it had come from...
This was odd, and it troubled her. She was not used to being troubled...

She turned deep violet eyes on the ruins that were breathing embers, their lungs of rock coming back to life after a long slumber.
Times were changing, but to Sachiko, it was all the same. There were hardly any people around here now, and she was growing bored.
That was dangerous...
He rusted scissors may not look like much, but with the inhuman force behind them, she could use the blunt end to knock a hole in someones chest. Yes that was always fun...

She smiled a little at the thought, still unable to shake the feeling that something was watching her...
She frowned softly.
Perhaps she should check out the ruins.
Where there was noise, there were people.

And people sure were fun...

Funny how a tool meant to aid mortals, scissors for example.
Could be so useful for killing them.
What irony...

Sachiko giggled, which escalated into a laugh, hacking a little.

The bait was set, a seeming tribute to this psychopathic ghost, designed for the purpose of capture and bending will. Men screamed within the caves, Lysadonian nobles that were taken prisoner for the luring of death. All that was required now was to wait for it to be set off. Gathar was too important to lose to a ghost armed with a clothing tool. The Pyrestone here was more powerful than most, and was imperative to their conquest, so the specter would have to be detained or turned, either acceptable, but one was required. The soldiers laid in wait until the signal was given, wearing Pyrestone armour, which was immune to any ghost-like weapons. Thus they would, supposedly, be safe from the tool. And thus they waited.

Drakoth was split between the capture of the ghost and the impending attack upon the neighboring kingdom of Lysadonia. Netharan's orders could not be delayed or denied, so both were to be done. The time had come to gain revenge on all who had destroyed the original empire. That is when the flare lit the sky. The time was here. The armies were commanded to march upon the wall that separated them from the Lysadonians, one which would soon fall. And the eye viewed all.

Sachiko paused in her laughing, hearing the sweet sounds of screaming.
Someone was taking her fun away...

She didn't like that at all...
She warped to the entrance of the cave, seeing prisoners, her face split into a grin, an aura of purple building around her. She would feed them sweet nightmares and make them see and feel things that were there, just not in this world.

She had her rusted scissors close, her black hair hanging in her face, concealing her expression and her eyes.
She quietly stepped up to one of the prisoners, taking no notice of any others just yet.
Just one at a time, so no fun would be missed.

She laughing maniacally, raising the scissors over her head and sinking them deep into a prisoners leg.
Oh she lived for this, and it had been so long...

Oh in their eyes she was just a child.
A child who could lift objects without touching them, and take any damage.

She did not notice the soldiers.
Why should the dead fear any?

At last. The Pyrestone bars fell down on the ghost, creating a Netharanic force field that would hold the dead. It had been tested before, and now was an actual useage. The ghost was trapped. Now was the time. The cage was placed onto a cart, which was taken to the capital of Mustaigon for turning. The cage was set before the great throne of Drakoth. The Dark Lord of Mustaigonia leaned forward, looking into the cage in the dark. The plan had seemed to work, but that was to be determined.

Sachiko froze, touching the bars lightly.
It didn't seem she was able to warp...

Her grin faded, as she took in that this was a trap.
She then suddenly snarled, the noise a terrible noise to behold. She then raised a paled fist, her black hair sliding from her face, revealing her large, manic purple eyes, and her twisted and enraged snarl, as she beat on the bars with incredible, inhuman force, her rusted scissors at her side as she stared at the Lord in front of her.

-Meanwhile...-

Somewhere... in a tomb, a bit of a distance away... A tumulus, buried under years of clay and dirt lay silently under the soil. However... that was about to change... This was a tomb of the Tyrdra, a race of beings often regarded as "Ivory Demons" for those who didn't know any better. Banished here long ago by those who feared them. One was about to wake up from his age long slumber due to the works of The Infernal Lord disrupting the world with a dark presence. The Tyrdra are not the guardians of this Realm, but they have the power to change the tides of destruction. Let's hope this one listens to one of the Immortals who wants to defend this Realm.

"Krazzarine."

"...Who's there?"

"That's not important right now. What is, is that I am proposing to set you free from your cursed slumber, so long as you try to save this Realm's people from the Infernal Lord. If you decline, you shall remain here for as long as the stones last. Do we have a deal, dear Tyrdra?"

"...I suppose I do not have another choice. I accept your offer. What must I do?"

"Look for the the wall near the lands of flame, and help the beings there defend it from those who want to make it crumble. Then, look for the tower in the lands pyrestone, and slay it's host."

"You got it. Now get me out of this stone cage, Bright One..."

Drakoth had not expected it to work. He was surprised to find that the ghost, now stuck in the cage, was at his feet, waiting for release. "My Lord," One of the guards said, though seemingly disturbed, "The plan was a success and the ghost is yours, as requested." "Excellent," Drakoth replied, "Now we must bring her to the attention of Netharan. Bring her cage to the altar at the spire, then leave us." "As you command, my Lord." The servant bowed. He brought the cage to the spire and left the room as commanded, leaving Drakoth and the caged ghost in the room. "Great Netharan, Dark Lord of the Netherworld, of Mustaigonia, and of all creation," he praised, "We have brought the presence which you have requested. Let your power turn her to your will." The altar lit with a fire red as blood and hot as magma, and a form similar to Drakoth stepped from the flames towards the cage. "At last," The great fire spoke in a raspy voice, "The ghost which has troubled Gathar has been brought to me. Set her before the altar." Drakoth dragged the cage to the front, and stepped back before the power of the Lord of Pyrestone.

The great fire looked towards the crazed ghost, delving into her past and her reasoning for being in his renewed kingdom. That's when he, looking from his great eye atop the spire, saw an unusual sight. A figure seemingly made of stone was entering his domain upon this land. "Perhaps," Netharan thought to himself, "this ghost could defeat the intruder. But first, she must be under my control." He returned to the room where the cage stood, mentioning for Drakoth to return to his duties while the ritual was performed. Once under his command, the spirit could destroy any who opposed his reign, forcing them to surrender to his will. He began the ritual, forming a large orb of Dark Fire within his hands. A stream of fire flowed from the orb and struck Sachiko, which he learned was her name, in the chest, slowly but surely forcing her to obey him and him alone. The ghost, however, tried to resist the tempting pull of destruction, Netharan noted. "Struggle all you want," the flaming being taunted, "But it will all be in vain. You are mine now, Sachiko." He increased the power, but no effect seemed to take place just yet. That would be determined by the ghost's strength and the amount of power needed to turn her to his will.

Sachiko was a mess of insane and maniac rage.
As the beings gazed upon her like she was some kind of slave.
Like property.
She growled, sounding like an animal more than a human as it rose in a crescendo, her purse aura growing around her, her hair floating as if there were wind through it.
But no wind blew through it...

She snarled as her cage was handed over to the God like Fire being.
She snarled as he spoke her name.

Sachiko belonged to no one, and she was free to kill as she wished.
Now they impeded her ambition.
No, her very purpose...

TO slaughter, for whatever purpose, it was an obsession...

As the dark flame tried to take hold, her pupils contracted, spitting angrily and backing to the back of her small cage, her aura making terrible visions, had the eyes been mortal, this being would go manic in terror.

But he was nothing normal, and these would probably have no effect on him.

Her chaotic being, her cry makeup, even without resistance was hard to control, and she didn't know right from wrong, and had no side.

She fought the being's will with all of her insane rage and bloodlust, disliking anyone else being in power.

Her hatred was strong.

-Meanwhile...-

Within the ancient tumulus, would lie hundreds upon hundreds of statues lining the walls, resembling spiked, horned, or winged humanoids, with some which look more feminine or human than the others. However, within these dark halls, a single statue's eyes glow. With the decorative and protective symbols giving way to cracks all over the statue, until finally it shatters, with an ivory skinned being falling over with the new rubble. After having got up, shaking his groggy head, he looks around. He walks around the halls, inspecting the many statues that many of the people of his race are within, sleeping forever, or at least until the wards wear off. He wanders for a bit longer, before finding the original entrance of this place, now blocked by and age's worth of dirt and other things.

His eyes glow, and pieces of rock and mounds of dirt begin to float away from the entrance, surrounded in a blue outline, and be placed somewhere further into the tumulus. After a while, the entrance is clear, giving way to a crude slope going upwards into the world from below. Krazzarine takes a step forward, with his eyes still glowing, his body glows bright, and changes to fit the new situation at hand. (now in Exalt Form.) He levitates up the slope, and flies high up into the air, to try to get a good view of the world below.

This being was stronger than Netharan had expected, perhaps too strong. If she could not be controlled by force, she could still serve his purpose through persuasion. The ritual ended as quickly as it had begun, the ghost undeterred and Netharan in need of regaining the power he used. "I cannot control you," he said with a snarl, "But we could strike a deal." He looked with hatred in his eyes before explaining his reasoning. "You see," he spoke, "I have troubles with the kingdom westward of here. There are many people there that would see my downfall, and many more that work openly against me. If we can work together, we could make them suffer. The deal is this: you will be able to torture and kill as many Lysadonians as you desire, but in return I inquire that you serve me until the war is finished. Then I will let you free as long as you never come to Mustaigonia again to torture my subjects. You will, however, be able to serve me again for another deal, as I have many enemies. What say you?"

Sachiko dropped her snarl when the ritual had stopped.
She turned violet eyes on he Deity. A deal?

She usually didn't have to strike deals, she had no one that could control her.
Yet that thought process had landed her in this wretched cage, next to this wretched being.

She did not understand why people divided themselves like this.

Humans were humans, all the same under old names.

But she listened carefully to the offer, looking him right in the eyes.
She could see hatred there, and she assumed it was directed towards her.

Free torture subjects...
She did like the sound of that, as they were often hard to find nowadays...

She didn't, however, want limitations on who she could kill. And she certainly didn't want to serve anybody...

But, as she weighed the pros and cons, it seemed to her that the deal shifted in her favor.
She felt the rusted scissors at her side, then with an unsettling giggle, she nodded her head.

" Okay Nissan....
I accept
On one condition..."
Sachiko's eyes alit with joy, she spoke again

" I request your name "

"I am Netharan, Dark Lord of the Netherworld, of fire, of evil, and of darkness, true master of Minecraftia." His flames rose for an instant, fueled by raw hatred and evil, but they died down as soon as they flared. "And soon," he continued, "I will control all Creatia!"

Sachiko watched him with mild curiosity, before her smile faded into a rather unhinging stare.
" Well Nissan, in order for anything to happen, I do believe this cage should be removed..."

She feinted calm, but being imprisoned was driving her mad with rage and helplessness. She hated it and wanted out immediately.

" Else, I might change my mind and eat one of your soldiers..."

She stared at the flames around the lord.
Her lord, for now at least.

"Of course." He raised a hand and the Pyrestone bars fell to the earth, clattering as they did so. "I look forward to working with you, Sachiko. The first thing that must be taken care of is of a strange sort. A golem of stone or crystal disturbs my plans with his awakening. His kind has been frozen through circumstances I still cannot understand, though he has recently been released. This threat must be abolished before it ruins my conquest. End this threat, and the souls of one thousand Lysadoians shall be yours to torture."

Sachiko listened carefully, grinning as the bars clattered to the ground. She nodded curtly, her black hair obscuring her face once again.
" Rocks?
They are fun to break
As they think they cannot..."

She giggled, then with a swirl of red, she was gone.
She reappeared on top of a tall mountain, giving her easy view to see where such a large creature could be located at. She blinked a little, not enjoying the sun too much.