Avatar image for fortress_city
#1 Edited by Fortress_City (7 posts) - - Show Bio

No Caption Provided

Dear would-be rescuer,

My name is not important, indeed I will be long dead before you arrive. With this letter I make my plea for help, but not for me.These words are for you.

Do not come to this place, you will meet the same end as the rest of us. Plenty of "Heroes"- as many would refer, have already perished a writhing mass of gore and broken ambitions. There is no hope here. The only rational choice we have left is to jump off the edge, at least then we get choose how we die...

Turn back,



The Fortress began as a Inter-realm siege engine devised by the Ngods, a sickening holy machine meant to batter the barriers between dimensions. That time has long passed, and now it's only purpose is to once again instill fear in the hearts of the mortals. Appearing out of thin air as normal city in populous, but remote deserts. Upon reaching a certain number of inhabitants the machinery manifests as well, and It begins a trek across the land that grinds the very fabric of our dimension underneath it's treads. Trapping those stuck on board with limited resources until there's nobody left.That is, unless a brave soul decides to board the death machine, and extract the civilian's who haven't succumbed to insanity...or exploit them.


Rules listed in OOC

Avatar image for fmj
#2 Edited by FMJ (113 posts) - - Show Bio

First Contact: 30 Minutes Prior

"It's some sort of...trail..."

The Present

Emil March spat the stub of the cigar from between his teeth, the hot desert sun beating down on his forehead. Along with a contingent of fifty men, he stood at the edge of a massive precipice, a practically bottomless pit of swirling darkness stretching out before him and his forces. He'd shaved recently, as befitting a commander, but already the shadow of a beard began to form on his square-jawed face. Piercing blue eyes glared at the moving city through a set of regular binoculars. His helmet sat in the sand at his feet, abandoned momentarily as he sought a better view of the juggernaut's enormous wheels. He wore his full combat uniform, metal arm braces whizzing and whirring with every movement as they amplified his strength and agility. A high-powered rifle rested on his back, pillaged from various stockpiles around the world.

"We don't have much time until the States show. It's chaos in there. Get in, get out. Take everything on our list," he said, handing the binoculars back to a fellow soldier. He raised a hand, gesturing towards the rolling metropolis and signalling the move out command to the others. Immediately, with military precision, they embarked, helicopters full of rogue soldiers giving chase to the perpetually moving city.

"Only a matter of waiting until the big guns show up to save the day. We get all the weapons out, then evacuate," he dictated to a nearby communications officer, clamping the helmet down on his head. The rudimentary HUD came to life, comm unit buzzing for a moment in his ear as they approached the rolling catastrophe. The damage it left behind was devastating, a straight line of pure desolation cutting the desert in two. The city was unnamed, some infernal oddity crafted by one of the many higher powers populating the planet. Emil didn't care; where there were people, there were weapons. And they were going to get them.

The fleet swerved between the buildings of Fortress City, the decrepit windows welcoming them to an urban center of pure anarchy. Plumes of smoke filled the air, the streets full of rioters and fighters alike, all squabbling over what resources remained.

"You see a local with a weapon, confiscate it. Lethal, non-lethal...operate at your discretion. Come into contact with a meta, call it out and retreat. I'll handle the special company," he yelled over the roar of the chopper, the message carrying out to every soldier. Quietly they descended on the war-torn metropolis, copters landing on skyscrapers. Soldiers rappelled down the sides, using infrared technology to scan for weapons stockpiles. The most tactically opportune areas were swept clean of resistance, armories raided as the Third World Legion tore through local fighters to get to their guns and ammunition. What was confiscated was quickly loaded onto copters to be sent outside the city.

And the King himself?

He stood atop the tallest tower, armored forearm resting on a knee as the chaos unfolded beneath. Behind him flew the Borderhaven flag, a calling card for all those who remained.

Avatar image for blitzkrieg_
#3 Posted by Blitzkrieg_ (161 posts) - - Show Bio

"You thought you would hide from me, Köter."

The words echoed in the room, and the man's bagged head bobbed up, looking for where the voice came. He tried to scream, but the gag across his mouth suppressed him, keeping him silent. The hotel room stank of shit and piss, and it was clear that the man had been left there for a long while. Emil circled the bound man, consistently eyeing a surgical tray that rested on the bed. The hotel room was impractical to say the least. But, with no other place to bring the fugitive, it was a necessary risk. Now, he stopped, directly behind the bound man.

"You thought wrong." Picking up a scalpel, he proceeded to trace the traditional swastika in the back of the man's neck, almost cutting the skin, but stopping just before. "I am überall. I am... All knowing. And your resistance shall not hinder my plans."

Reaching his hand out, he grabbed the man's throat, and squeezed lightly, with the same amount of force that he would give to a hard-to-open peanut. The neck snapped, and the man's head fell immediately, dead.

"Wunderbar." He grinned.

The Renegade City had been hard to find indeed. But Emil was patient, and technology was his ally. Now, he walked out of the hotel room, wiping his hands clean, and trudged down the hall, smelling the fresh morning air. Soldiers were entering the city, from all over the world. They did not matter. Emil didn't need soldiers. The Hammer of Germany would bring about his very own form of justice.

Someone was a part of this grand scheme. Someone had to have founded it. Whoever that was, it took a type of intellect the likes of which Emil respected, the type of intellect that could change the world.

And Blitzkrieg could change the world, too.

Avatar image for pyrogram
#5 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio

Half a mile above the city, the U.S Beechcraft C-12 Huron surveillance 'copter

No Caption Provided

The Apex Archer stood upon the edge of the helicopter, accompanied by a fifteen man task-force of R.E.D specials ops soldiers. The air was heavy with anticipation and Kurt could feel the dread below, even nearly a mile above the surface. He withdrew a single physical arrow and placed it upon his bow, glancing back at his squad.

"We have three objectives. Objective alpha is extracting the asset. Objective bravo is to engage and terminate any who pose a threat to civilian life, or are listed as a threat on the US watch-list. The last objective, charlie, is simple... We find out who caused this thing and put an end to them."

Looking back ahead Kurt fired an arrow, an arrow which swooped down throughout the city and fired off a series of pings. After a few minutes he would have the basics of a complete sonar-picture of the immediate area.

"None of us are leaving until this is done."

He paused, looking back with one final smile.

"Let's go."

And then he jumped...

Avatar image for fmj
#6 Posted by FMJ (113 posts) - - Show Bio


"Unidentified aircraft above. Looks American."

"Acknowledged," Emil said, kneeling on the edge of the skyscraper's roof. Even from his far-away vantage point, he could see the man fall, a low-altitude solo jump from the back of the C-12. Undoubtedly a meta, coming in alone at that airspeed. He wouldn't be able to deal with him immediately, instead instructing the Third World Legionnaires to back out of the approximate area where he'd land. The man's jump from the plane confirmed that it wasn't civilian; in Emil's eyes, the American presence here was a hostile one.

From a nearby bag, he produced an enormous rocket launcher, clipping the shoulder stock on and raising it to match the plane's trajectory. Previously, the weapon would've been classified as a FMI-43 Redeye, but once Borderhaven got their hands on it, it'd been reconfigured into something both more efficient and more lethal. Instead of one rocket fired at once, the modified bazooka would let loose three, the trinity of surface-to-air missiles would home in on the C-12, guided not by infrared (as before), but rather by manual control from the weapon's front grip, directed remotely to collide violently with the plane and wipe it out in a massive explosion.

Godspeed, gentlemen, he thought quietly, watching the smoke trails of the rockets twist and turn on their way to the target...

Avatar image for pyrogram
#7 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio
No Caption Provided

The Gothic Knight fell through the sky, gaining natural speed and hoping to soon reach terminal velocity when he caught the unmistakable sight of smoke trails twisting and turning like an elegant display of death dancing in his direction. It didn't take an expert to analyse their destination. Within seconds Kurt knew that the C-12 was ultimately doomed. He could have fired arrows at the rocket trinity but had faith in his own troops to escape unharmed.

Instead he would focus the vital few seconds he had on offensively responding to this assault. Rotating within the air as effortlessly as a wasp's flight, the Emerald Archer diverted from the ground and manifested an arrow which was promptly let loose. The destination straight for Emil and flying at three times the speed of sound.

Once the arrow reached it's target a mere fifty meters from him the green glowing arrow would break off into many smaller pieces and encircle the terrorist, green gas smoking from all individual pieces and gaining speed as they flew around him in a circle until all that Emil would hope to see would be a blur of green, functionally blinding the terrorist to his surroundings within the mist. Simultaneously, Kurt had de-manifested his bow and sped off in Emil's direction via flight, travelling faster than any rocket, the Emerald Archer sought to power through the air and deliver a mighty front kick to the Third World King's torso with enough power to send a man twenty meters...

Avatar image for fmj
#8 Edited by FMJ (113 posts) - - Show Bio


As the rockets brought down the C-12, Emil stood still on the roof, lowering his weapon. Cold blue eyes watched the flaming mass of metal fall to the streets below, the first passenger still diving through the air. Emil had eyes on him all the way down, and as such, he was understandably perturbed when the Emerald Archer abruptly stopped in mid-air, rotating towards the rooftop with his primary weapon drawn. Quickly, Emil threw down the Redeye, preparing an evasive maneuver to evade the oncoming projectile. He wouldn't get the chance, however, as the shot split into several speeding arrows, each releasing a luminous verdant mist. Holding his breath, Emil wasn't prepared for Kurt's next attack, only able to raise his arms in anticipation of another ranged strike.

The mist dispelled with the force of the Gothic Knight's entry, a solid kick connecting with the Insurrectionist's armored forearms. A strike of this magnitude was more than enough to fling the unprepared King backwards, even the stripped-down mechanical armor not enough to keep him on the ground. Where one would normally fall backwards, though, he shifted his momentum, legs kicking out behind. Digging his fingers into the surface of the roof, he stopped, sliding backwords. Small trails in the floor beneath them were left where his fingers dug into the roof, dust kicked up behind his feet.

Flier, powerful. Take away his advantage, he thought between seconds, operating more off of instinct than anything. Suddenly, with explosiveness unexpected of a normal human, he sprang forward, technologically-amplified legs propelling him forward. Every step dug a small dent into the roof, the force of his sprint outpacing the average car. In one hand, he whipped out a large three-pronged curved hook, used for grappling to higher ground...but instead, it would be used to descend. Charging the Emerald Archer like an enraged rhinoceros, the Full Metal Anarchist would seek to wrap his massive metal-covered arm around Kurt's form, dragging him over the edge as he sought to leap from the tallest skyscraper in the city.

Hooking the grapple into the roof with artificially-created superhuman strength as he soared by, he would seek to fall down the side of the building and crash through a window on a lower level, hopefully with the Emerald Archer as an unwitting passenger.

Avatar image for miles_galeth
#9 Edited by Miles_Galeth (52 posts) - - Show Bio

"You sure you know what you're doing with this one, Miles?"

"Relax, Lincoln. It's just a gigantic city on wheels tearing a path through the desert. I can handle it."

(Note to self- reinsert image here)

The Aging Archer motioned for his oldest friend to take the wheel, and flicked his bow open, selecting a grappling arrow from his quiver. "I'll call you if I need to get out. Or if I die. See ya in ten."

He fired the arrow, marveling at the range he had achieved with the work of art purchased at the Daedalus Shoppe. It hooked onto a building, and Miles jumped out, the cord pulling him up into the city.

The arrow, as it happened, had hooked onto a windowsill, and it pulled Miles into the building, shattering a window. Inside was a man drenched in blood. It wasn't his own.

A minute later, the man was dangling from the window with an arrow stuck in his leg. Either the rope breaks, or that arrow rips your leg open. Either way, you're hitting the ground in about an hour. Enjoy, you sick piece of shit.

Miles got no response, and so left the room, finding himself in a stairwell. He went up, not down, and onto the roof, surveying the landscape. A man was standing on a rooftop holding a large weapon of some sort (@fmj) and being shot at by a man in a purple outfit similar to his (@pyrogram), with... Arrows? This, I gotta see...

Miles took of running, though his joints ached, and as he did so, he drew back the bowstring, an arrow already nocked. This arrow was one of Miles' favorites, and he had used it to great effect over the years. There were no microthrusters or grebade's attached to this arrow. Instead, a single steel arrowhead was affixed to the shaft of the projectile, and as Miles pulled the bowstring back and let it fly, it would sail through the air, aimed at the strap keeping the Third World King's mask on, leaving his head exposed for the other archer to strike at it.

Avatar image for pyrogram
#10 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio


As soon as the Insurgent sought to wrap his arm around Kurt, the Emerald Archer allowed martial art instinctiveness to kick in. It was as though one would simply flinch when someone was thrown in their direction or swat a mosquito that had landed upon their arm. As soon as the man had extended his arm, years of combat experience took over in the form of instinct. To Emil, it would have looked like Kurt was being senselessly carried away, but in practicality, he was performing the steps to execute an armbar.

Granted however.... It took considerable effort when the two of them were bulldozed over the edge of the building and smashed into and through a window, but the Apex Archer had already locked on.

Attempting to use the arm already grasping his body, he would throw one leg over Emil's head and another over Emil's torso with Emil's head locked between his knees, trying to isolate the man's exposed arm and pull it through the gap towards his own torso, hugging Emil's arm at the wrist and pulling it towards himself, at the same time, applying pressure onto Emil's elbow the wrong way by bending his own back and creating leverage. With a sparring partner one would stop before a bone had broken, but Kurt fully intended on breaking this man's arm as though it was a mere twig.

Independent of success, knowing this man may be a healer, too durable, or even extraordinarily better at him than martial arts, the Emerald Archer roared out with a battle cry as he swiftly let go of the Third World King and manifest two adamantium daggers within both palms, violently thrusting them downwards and trying to pierce his foe wherever possible...

Avatar image for fmj
#11 Posted by FMJ (113 posts) - - Show Bio

@pyrogram: @miles_galeth:

The two clashed dramatically, the Insurrectionist piercing the edge of the rooftop's edge with the hook's end just as his other arm wrapped itself around Kurt Pendragon. Together they went over the side of the building, the cable unraveling as the Emerald Archer struggled in his mechanized grasp. Together they haphazardly swung down the side of the building, the cable going taut and pulling them towards the window. As they descended, however, a small shape whizzed narrowly by Emil's neck.

What-? he thought, eyes growing wide as Pendragon moved into position. The fall was stopped abruptly as the cord ran out, the two colliding dramatically with a window. Crashing into the room, Emil sought to neutralize his enemy's ability to fly, dragging him into a confined space where both his foe's weapon and his elusiveness would be less effective. Still, even unarmed, the Gothic Knight was strong, enough to resist Emil's robotically-enhanced strength...or perhaps even overcome it. Twisted into an armbar, the machinery whined as Pendragon applied pressure to the joint, no doubt seeking to break it open.

With a grunt, he wrested himself free, servos whining as the metal resisted the Apex Archer's strength. The former commissioner of Gothic had released Emil from the grip, now gathering his power to generate two daggers, another aspect of his metahuman talent. Still down, Emil propelled himself slightly upwards with his left "jackhammer-style" gauntlet, intercepting the downward strikes with the side of his forearm. The sharpest blades in the world stopped inches from his eyes, his momentum carrying him upwards. Almost in a standing position due to his quick recovery, he instead twisted, lashing out with a metal-framed foot in an attempt to catch Pendragon in the stomach.

Avatar image for pyrogram
#12 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio


Kurt felt the full force of the metal-framed foot swat him in the stomach, causing him to grit his teeth in pain and almost buckle over due to being winded. Instinctively pulling himself up and away from the foe knowing unplanned close quarters with an unknown opponent so clearly carrying some heavy weaponry would be dangerous, he got back his balance and adjusted his stance, almost taking something akin to a boxing. "Why'd you shoot down our plane?" He questioned, a violently spiked knuckle-duster manifesting upon both knuckles as a physical cue. Telling the man if his reply wasn't satisfactory, there would be further trouble.

Avatar image for fmj
#13 Posted by FMJ (113 posts) - - Show Bio


Emil stretched slowly, standing at his full height rather than slouching as he had during the fight. He cracked his neck, noticing that his helmet seemed just a little too loose. Closer inspection would reveal that the strap had been sliced...but by what? Grabbing his now-loose helm with one metal-covered hand, he dropped it to the ground, cold blue eyes glaring down to find an arrow at his feet. He ignored the man's query for now, turning his head slightly to the side. One eye was on Pendragon, the other scanning the area.

Ah, he thought, spotting an arrow embedded in the wall directly behind him. He yanked it from where it quivered in the plaster.

"One of yours?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd thought the man had only shot one, after all, and it'd dissipated into some sort of gas attack. He shrugged, dropping it to the ground.

"Your plane? Hostile. USA, after all. Not pilot's fault...he was just following orders. Like a good soldier," he growled, thumbs activating the suit's hydraulic jacks. The separate metallic cylinders slid down from his wrists, conjoining over his middle knuckle with an audible whine. Together, when active, they'd hit like a freight train. Emil took a small step forward, lowering his pose and raising his arms like a boxer. His eyes locked on his enemy's stance, prepared for any oncoming attack.

Avatar image for pyrogram
#14 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio


No Caption Provided

Kurt looked into Emil's jaded eyes, taking in every detail and intending to perfectly draw it at a later date to be added onto CIA and Equalizer intelligence databases. One of the many perks of having a newly acquired photographic memory.

"And you killed for no real reason," Kurt said, feeling energy course through his body, "like a good terrorist."

As though he had jumped onto a trampoline from fifty feet up and landed back down, the Gothic Knight inhumanly sprung up from the ground and catapulted himself across the distance of the room, his leg hammering back down towards FMJ's maskless face like a freight train, showing no intermission as the archer continued his energetic assault and sought to swiftly deliver two violent punches to both sides of Emil's calf muscles with his spiked knuckle dusters, hoping to impair any future movement.

Avatar image for fmj
#15 Posted by FMJ (113 posts) - - Show Bio


"Opportunist," he corrected, raising his arms in a defensive manner. The metahuman was fast, as it turned out, too fast for Emil to adequately intercept the kick; he leaned back, essentially rolling with the impact of the foot on his face rather than resisting. Flecks of spittle cascaded to the ground, but Emil was already back into combat mode, eyes locked on his foe in spite of the pain spreading across his unarmored face. The coming flurry of blows was met with an outstretched hand, intercepting the first strike against his calf with a metallic fist. With his other empty hand he blocked the second strike, the spikes ricocheting off the tempered hydraulic jack.

Versed in close-quarters-combat and possessing an explosiveness foreign to most men due to the armored exoskeleton, he counterattacked, attempting to launch a hydraulic-powered steel punch upwards towards Pendragon's jaw. The uppercut was supplemented by a sudden extension of the jackhammer-like fist, enough to hopefully knock the Emerald Archer into the air. Were he successful, he'd follow up with a second forceful blow to Pendragon's leg, a crippling shot for sure, were it to connect.

Avatar image for pyrogram
#16 Edited by Pyrogram (46545 posts) - - Show Bio


The hydraulic-powered steel punch connected with Kurt's jaw, catapulting him across the room in a display of both brute force and skill. Slamming against a nearby wall, which cracked upon impact, the Emerald Archer attempted to stand... Arg, he grunt. The strike had connected too without him realizing, shattering his right kneecap. "Opportunist?" Kurt blurted out, manifesting a green cast and artificial muscle-like armor around his broken kneecap. "For what, exactly? What do you hope to achieve here?" Instead of engaging the man in CQB again, Kurt opted to take advantage of his metahuman status. His fists glowed with green flames, and Kurt outstretched them to Emil. "Thankfully none of my men are dead, otherwise we'd not be having this little exchange." He fired the green flames which flickered outwards, but stopped short of the Maverick-looking terrorist. "What's your aim in the city, or were you just trapped like a rat?"

Avatar image for deactivated-59c716930b8a6
#17 Edited by deactivated-59c716930b8a6 (9227 posts) - - Show Bio

Golden shafts of heavenly light emerged from a dimensional hole that had been conjured just beyond the skyscrapers of the mobile city. A grey, smoke-like cloud of particles hurtled out of the hole's shimmering depths, streaking towards the ground as the portal closed behind it. The cloud struck the ground with a boom, concrete rubble scattering from the tiny crater made in its wake.

A tall, lean figure emerged from the dissipating cloud, his spiky, jet black hair unruffled even given his descent. He was clothed in garments of black and grey, his boots white as the clouds, with a crimson sash around his waste. He wore a pair of gold and green earrings and a silver ring upon his forefinger, all of which gleamed in their majesty. This man was Amarth, and intrigue regarding the moving city's origin had beckoned his theatrical entrance into it.

Shrewd blue eyes surveyed his surroundings, bemusement rising in his chest as he pondered who or what could have devised such a machine. It had been difficult enough pinpointing its location, but uncovering its origin? He hadn't even scratched the surface.

But of course, he thought with a small smirk as he detected life aboard the city...

...no secret, however well hidden, can elude me.
...no secret, however well hidden, can elude me.

At that, he sped off into the air, in search of clues, indications, more people, anything that would enable him to uncover the mystery of the city.