EVENT: HERE THERE BE MONSTERS

[initiatesnpc]

Date & Time: October 24 - October 31
Location: Throughout Exsilium
Characters: ALL; tag yourselves in
Summary: The Transports return from their mission to find the island crawling with monsters.
Warnings: Violence, possibly injuries (notify a mod if there's cause to add a particular warning!)

The Transports return from their mission to Medieval Russia, but the Initiative Hold is eerily deserted. Normally, their would be a number of Initiative personnel prepared to meet the Transports at the end of their mission for debriefing.

Instead, there is only silence.

That is, until a distant thumping sound can be heard. It is growing closer, and suddenly the beast is bursting into the room. It lets out a roar and charges. Within minutes, it is easily defeated, but damage has already been done -- it collided with the Transporter machine, which is now making a low fizzling sound and lets off a couple sparks. The commotion is enough to draw the attention of the few remaining Initiative personnel who still inhabit the Hold, who arrive immediately afterwards. They are able to tell the Transports two things: that the machine is broken and currently unable to sent anyone back in time, and that the island has been overrun with aggressive, mutated beasts sent by the United Earth. They have been under siege for months, with the island's population reduced to a mere fraction of what it had once been.

Comments

[northrend]

"Man". If only he knew. There's no point in debating semantics, so he doesn't. The fact that Lucifer isn't turning tail and running or raising a sword to him promises good things -- or perhaps speaks of arrogance. He's not sure yet.

When his eyes fall to Frostmourne, he is very aware of it, and his grip tightens a little. He's very possessive of the sword -- it doesn't have a hold on his power, having lent it to him already, but it is a very large extension of it.

"I did not," he admits, turning the runeblade in his hand. "Frostmourne was won. Ultimately forged for my hand by fate, though offered to many a traveler, I expect."

[lovesgod]

"Man it is."

His lip quirks as Arthas' fingers tighten around the weapon. Possessive, this one is. But the blade does have some kind of connection to him, so he can't really hold it against the undead creature. Plus, it's obviously a weapon of incredible power. Certainly the kind any sensible type would hunger for. But there'd be time for that in the future, maybe. For now, step by step way the way to go.

"Frostmourne." The weapon, it must have been. A suitably dreary name for a weapon cold to the touch. Then, a slight side. "Fate has it's way of giving us what should be ours, even if it takes time," he says, looking back out to the undead army, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "It's not always fair, but it seems to always work out the way it should, even with the unexpected bumps and bruises."