![]() ![]() ![]() People soon began making their way out the automatic doors at the entrance. While most monsters were primal and animalistic, shapeshifters were one of the most intelligent… And deadly. But even with all this in our arsenal, what we faced that night was far more terrifying and dangerous than we could ever have imagined. A burst of speed, a blast of fire, or a protective barrier were often far more useful than the pistol or sabre. Enlisting in the BlackGuard meant going through extensive courses to learn the essential words, but they ended up being about as helpful as advertised. In our missions, we most often utilized our knowledge of the Cambrian language to win the day. Both of these weapons were designed more to fell creatures as opposed to a fellow man, but we were also issued a selection of grenades and knives just in case we ran into some pesky humans on the way. The handle of mine had a spiraling golden grip and rounded handguard. We were also issued brilliant sabres which bore a thin coating of silver above the steel. The weapon fired silver ammunition, as opposed to the standard ice, fire, acid and regular shot of Regimental flintlocks. It was furnished a dull grey from polished Golenwood, and bore golden steel at the muzzle, trigger and hammer areas. Not just an ordinary Anti-Cambria flintlock, but an exquisite work of Imperial craftsmanship. My hand immediately fell to my flintlock to calm my nerves. ![]() We all raised an obedient salute and scattered after this. If you wish to speak with me, I will be having a chat with the owner of the Ferego. With that in mind, you are now free to operate within proper protocol limits. “I will also warn you that the scene in question is quite disturbing, but I trust you are prepared to see such a thing. I advise you all keep on your toes, as intel suggests it is very capable of taking different forms,” he continued, pacing up and down the polished marble below. “Your mission will be to observe the scene and track down the creature. There were many Scrye on Ares, and perhaps more on Earth, but cities tended to be built around them in order to make the implementation of Earthly technology a smoother process. An odd rift in time and space that had created a link between our worlds. The Scrye, if you were unaware, was the entrance to Earth. “Right here in our capital lurks what is known as a ‘shapeshifter.’ We assume that it intends to reach the Scrye and your duty and mine is to find and stop it before it escapes the Ferego hotel.” None of us dared to disobey him or get on his notorious bad side. His tone was a harsh and authoritative one, fitting for someone in his position. Quite an eccentric looking person and to top it all off he was just shy of six-foot-one, perhaps twenty-five years of age being visible on him. Black dress pants, black dress shoes, and pale white skin to conflict it all. Besides this, the man had a flair for the formal. The eyes tended to bore into you even with a passing glance and there was most definitely a difference between standard red pupils and those Cyrus had, but none of us could really explain it. For years and years, he had the same dark red eyes and needly black hair that covered his head. Not unkillable, no, but if he was let be for long enough, age could never claim him. Indeed, it sounded a most sound assumption based on his reputation and appearance. Many of us theorized they were from the blood of his enemies, victory marks if you will. ![]() He had a particular fondness for dark clothing, bearing an aged looking inky black cloak with odd brownish stripes up and down the torn up thing. A little uncomfortable to be worn at first, but you grew used to them with time.Ĭyrus wore much different attire. These uniforms were fashioned primarily from hardened leather, strong enough to block shrapnel and perhaps a glancing blow from a blade while still allowing us the mobility that was so desperately needed when fighting monsters. Our obsidian uniforms must have looked quite intimidating, covering our bodies from head to toe and being lined with all manner of different pockets, many of which contained a vast assortment of weaponry. We all stood in an orderly line within the hotel lobby, which had been cleared of all other people not too long ago. “Gentlemen and women, the Emperor once again requires us to take out his trash.” Many were dissatisfied with the state the Mire, our continent, was in, and I have the distinct feeling Cyrus was one of them, as the first words he spoke to us that day were… Not to speak of politics, because I tend to ramble, but our new Emperor was hardly an apt ruler by most standards. It was but two short months after I had joined the Guard and situated in the capital of Nation 9, it was a rather high class of living compared to the peasants below that Emperor Dravis had played a role in creating.
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