Post by BDS on Jan 21, 2009 2:04:53 GMT -5
"We have arrived at the ..."
"... crossroads. From here, there can be ..."
"... no turning back. What we do this year ..."
"... will determine the doom of ..."
"... an entire dimension."
Omni and Odyssey addressing the Pantheon of the White at ROC Headquarters
January 17th, 2121
In a fading twilight, Centrapolis is bathed in hues of rose, an affront to eyes more accustomed to the dim light of a bar as seen through the bottom of a bottle. Jagged shadows loom across a broken cityscape, cast from a devastated prison that stands as a crumbling monument to a shattered peace. As the haggard lawman surveys the ruin around him, he makes no notice of the two figures who approach him from behind. "It's time, Espo," one grunts out from behind a cigar, the last rays of the sun glinting majestically off of the essence-clad belt draped over his shoulder. Esperanto nods, and the Regulators begin the long walk towards the Centra Palladium.
In the darkness, he sits, cradling the room's lone source of light to his chest. It has fueled him for months, swelling him with black power and feeding his hatred. Before the aCe fell, his grasp on the precious belt seemed to strengthen with each foe that fell before him. In the absence of the aCe, with no one to disturb him, his hold on the essence - and the essence's hold on him - merely grew stronger. "It is mine," he mutters to no one in particular, despite his fell minions attending him, "and they will not take it from me." Godsend stands, and the rest of The Dominion falls in place behind him.
At a quiet altar, a masked man silently prays for an end. He prays for an end to the terror that grips a dimension. He prays for an end to the death that spreads like an uncontrolled fire. He prays for an end to his labor, then stops to rebuke his selfishness. He prays for an end to the darkness that threatens to consume the history unfolding in front of him. "Thy will be done," Shepard's raspy voice intones as he rises, gathering up the glimmering belt on the floor next to him. As the Vagabond Priest rises, his two ethereal companions wordlessly - soundlessly - join him as The Cathedral prepares to wage what will hopefully be this dimension's final war.
In a hospital bed, she sleeps, held in stasis by the machines attached to her. Her husband attends her, as he has for the last fortnight. Sleep my love, he silently begs her, I will find a way to cure you. I swear it. A young man in uniform enters the room and hands his captain a sheet of paper. Aegis dismisses the ROC recruit, and reads the message, then turns to his wife. The stoic mask of his face betrays none of the pain in his heart as he leans forward to kiss the glass that separates him from his love. I swear it, Trisis. We will be together again.
Beneath a dome of swirling colors, a mind unlike any other in the dimension contemplates the task in front of him. It must be done, no matter how gruesome; this he is sure of. Paganax and his Tribesmen are but failed experiments. Ventross and the other rebellious Ravagers that flock to his banner dilute the true Ravager blood that flows through his own, ancient veins. The humans of Centra are too weak, too frail. Murdok's foul minions are but a mockery of Antilia's heritage. "No matter," Nicodemus' monotonous voice intones, "they will all be eliminated soon enough. The slate will be cleaned." Tabula Rasa.
In a crowded arena, the crowd murmurs as they await the first match in the Palladium in months. They are tired of war, they are tired of death being brought to their homes, and they are ready for the gladiators about to appear in front of them to wage battle in the ring, instead of in their streets. As the lights dim and the announcer welcomes them back to the aCe, they cheer, forgetting about the misery outside the Palladium's walls for the first time in what seems like eons.
------------------------------
BDS' aCe is back, and racing towards its conclusion. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the fed and want to catch up, the original fed is still up on the old community boards at cotg.proboards12.com/index.cgi?board=cotgcards&action=display&thread=5825&page=1.
In my timeline, the aCe has been on hiatus since May of 2120 due to the outbreak of hostilities as described in the booklet. Things have since calmed down and now, at the end of January, 2121, matches will begin anew. The champions we had last remain, with Godsend holding on to the aCe Championship and the Specialists - now on different teams - holding the aCe Tag Team Championship. Between that info and what's available in the booklet, you should have enough to follow along, because I don't deviate from the story too much.
I'm going to run twelve cards, one per month of 2121. The eleven cards will set up the final matches to be run on the twelfth and final card, which will determine the final aCe Champions as well as winners in each of the feuds - and subsequently the fate of Centra. After that, the story ends, and BDS' aCe finally gets some closure.
And for those of you who are familiar with the fed and are wondering ...
------------------------------
On a dusty road, a hooded figure walks alone. It is what he does now. The cold, mechanical limb protruding from where his arm used to be reminds him of the last time he wasn't alone; the last time he failed those who needed him. The wind howls angrily against him as he crests the hill as he has done so many times before, blowing his cloak's hood down as he looks at Centrapolis in the distance. As he picks out the Palladium amongst the broken cityscape he flexes his hand, and the grinding of the cybernetics within his prosthesis sing to him once again of his failure. Lance At-Las pulls his hood up over head and turns to walk away once more. His wandering is not yet at an end.
"... crossroads. From here, there can be ..."
"... no turning back. What we do this year ..."
"... will determine the doom of ..."
"... an entire dimension."
Omni and Odyssey addressing the Pantheon of the White at ROC Headquarters
January 17th, 2121
In a fading twilight, Centrapolis is bathed in hues of rose, an affront to eyes more accustomed to the dim light of a bar as seen through the bottom of a bottle. Jagged shadows loom across a broken cityscape, cast from a devastated prison that stands as a crumbling monument to a shattered peace. As the haggard lawman surveys the ruin around him, he makes no notice of the two figures who approach him from behind. "It's time, Espo," one grunts out from behind a cigar, the last rays of the sun glinting majestically off of the essence-clad belt draped over his shoulder. Esperanto nods, and the Regulators begin the long walk towards the Centra Palladium.
In the darkness, he sits, cradling the room's lone source of light to his chest. It has fueled him for months, swelling him with black power and feeding his hatred. Before the aCe fell, his grasp on the precious belt seemed to strengthen with each foe that fell before him. In the absence of the aCe, with no one to disturb him, his hold on the essence - and the essence's hold on him - merely grew stronger. "It is mine," he mutters to no one in particular, despite his fell minions attending him, "and they will not take it from me." Godsend stands, and the rest of The Dominion falls in place behind him.
At a quiet altar, a masked man silently prays for an end. He prays for an end to the terror that grips a dimension. He prays for an end to the death that spreads like an uncontrolled fire. He prays for an end to his labor, then stops to rebuke his selfishness. He prays for an end to the darkness that threatens to consume the history unfolding in front of him. "Thy will be done," Shepard's raspy voice intones as he rises, gathering up the glimmering belt on the floor next to him. As the Vagabond Priest rises, his two ethereal companions wordlessly - soundlessly - join him as The Cathedral prepares to wage what will hopefully be this dimension's final war.
In a hospital bed, she sleeps, held in stasis by the machines attached to her. Her husband attends her, as he has for the last fortnight. Sleep my love, he silently begs her, I will find a way to cure you. I swear it. A young man in uniform enters the room and hands his captain a sheet of paper. Aegis dismisses the ROC recruit, and reads the message, then turns to his wife. The stoic mask of his face betrays none of the pain in his heart as he leans forward to kiss the glass that separates him from his love. I swear it, Trisis. We will be together again.
Beneath a dome of swirling colors, a mind unlike any other in the dimension contemplates the task in front of him. It must be done, no matter how gruesome; this he is sure of. Paganax and his Tribesmen are but failed experiments. Ventross and the other rebellious Ravagers that flock to his banner dilute the true Ravager blood that flows through his own, ancient veins. The humans of Centra are too weak, too frail. Murdok's foul minions are but a mockery of Antilia's heritage. "No matter," Nicodemus' monotonous voice intones, "they will all be eliminated soon enough. The slate will be cleaned." Tabula Rasa.
In a crowded arena, the crowd murmurs as they await the first match in the Palladium in months. They are tired of war, they are tired of death being brought to their homes, and they are ready for the gladiators about to appear in front of them to wage battle in the ring, instead of in their streets. As the lights dim and the announcer welcomes them back to the aCe, they cheer, forgetting about the misery outside the Palladium's walls for the first time in what seems like eons.
------------------------------
BDS' aCe is back, and racing towards its conclusion. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the fed and want to catch up, the original fed is still up on the old community boards at cotg.proboards12.com/index.cgi?board=cotgcards&action=display&thread=5825&page=1.
In my timeline, the aCe has been on hiatus since May of 2120 due to the outbreak of hostilities as described in the booklet. Things have since calmed down and now, at the end of January, 2121, matches will begin anew. The champions we had last remain, with Godsend holding on to the aCe Championship and the Specialists - now on different teams - holding the aCe Tag Team Championship. Between that info and what's available in the booklet, you should have enough to follow along, because I don't deviate from the story too much.
I'm going to run twelve cards, one per month of 2121. The eleven cards will set up the final matches to be run on the twelfth and final card, which will determine the final aCe Champions as well as winners in each of the feuds - and subsequently the fate of Centra. After that, the story ends, and BDS' aCe finally gets some closure.
And for those of you who are familiar with the fed and are wondering ...
------------------------------
On a dusty road, a hooded figure walks alone. It is what he does now. The cold, mechanical limb protruding from where his arm used to be reminds him of the last time he wasn't alone; the last time he failed those who needed him. The wind howls angrily against him as he crests the hill as he has done so many times before, blowing his cloak's hood down as he looks at Centrapolis in the distance. As he picks out the Palladium amongst the broken cityscape he flexes his hand, and the grinding of the cybernetics within his prosthesis sing to him once again of his failure. Lance At-Las pulls his hood up over head and turns to walk away once more. His wandering is not yet at an end.
