Cybil de Blanc

[quote][font="Courier New"][i]-Private and Classified-[/i] To President Lyndon Johnson and the Republic of New England's Government, I don't see a problem with this arrangement. Please note, however, that I will be arriving by a bush plane, of all things. The recent civil war has produced sabotaged jets we obtained from the former Venezuelan government, and, as clunky as they may be, they're quite effective in getting my people around. Even if it was a joke, I can see lots of possibilities for both of our countries. I hope you don't mind, but I'll be bringing along a little gift - would you believe a certain species of tea grows this far north? Sincerely, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix, Queen of Cyneriice Northan[/font][/quote] [center]- === -[/center] OOC: Separate thread?

[quote][i]Ice is something we have to look into. The Baffin Mountains are a possibility, right? We should contact our friends and take care of the ice. Hopefully, they won't mind salt, as its supposed to melt the ice in the first place. Salty ice - what a strange thing, right? Only in Northan, I suppose....[/i][/quote] [center]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~[/center] As soon as she realized what Cybil wanted, Alysandra promptly tore up the small piece of paper, dropping it into an ashtray and lighting the remains with a match. The Republic of New England, ever since Dranagg's fall, had stated again and again that they demanded ice continued to be shipped up from Antarctica. Apparently, it was a popular import for frozen goods, and New England would no doubt be interested in another source. Once the flames of the burning paper flickered out, Alysandra would spill a little of her tea onto the few embers left behind, pitching the ash into the nearby dustbin afterwards. She would then pull over Cybil's old typewriter, inherited from her parents when she left home to found the country. [quote][i]- Classified and Private -[/i] [font="Courier New"]To the Government of the Republic of New England, Cyneriice Northan is looking to expand its horizons and seek out new trading partners now that the country is getting under the government's thumb again. We of the government could not help but notice your demand of ice imports; we have two very large freshwater lakes, and a string of mountains on the northeast portion of the island, that could easily supply the ice you desire. I would happily meet with a representative or representatives in a location of your choosing. I look forward to any agreements we can come across. Sincerely, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix, Queen of Cyneriice Northan[/font][/quote]

OOC: I realize I have several RPs with Alysandra that require resolution, but at the moment, I have a small case of writer's block. I am attempting to clear said blockage, but it's coming along as well as one attempting digging to China with a spork. Hopefully, this will do the trick. Also, a little time-skipping. [center]- ==== -[/center] She wrote in solitude, under the cover of night and the guise of rest, slipping paper beneath her pillow, beneath the desk of her room and in the pockets of the rich clothes the Queen let her wear. Wherever Cybil went, she had a pencil on hand, always scribbling down what seemed to be nonsensical notes about the news, the world, the current tensions in Australia, and her own health. These notes were hidden away, her private thoughts on everything and anything, though containing nothing that the Australians could consider "treason" or "a breech of security". Whatever private conversations Cybil had with the Australian government remained private, for she was not so immoral or stupid to betray Queen Asgeirsson's trust. It was often now, the servants would find, for Cybil to send letters back to Cyneriice Northan, ever since the fall of Dranagg. For more than ten months, she had lived mostly out of the limelight, her closest confidants the local royalty and one Luis de Luit; what had brought her out of that shell so suddenly was unknown. Many who knew of her trip to Brisbane a while back knew it had kicked off something, the ex-Queen having gone out more and more, eager to see the world outside of the bubble that was the Lillia Palace. Cybil had even been so bold as to make a public statement on Dranagg's strange collapse, and the ensuing chaos over "imperialism in the Antarctic". (Frankly, Cybil could not understand what was so important about claiming land on a barely-inhabitable continent, but that was something one could mull over later.) Now, it seemed as if she was more confident about something, about her life in general, although a trained psychologist would argue she wasn't quite ready for the stress of the throne again. The thing was, she didn't have to worry. She could still rule Northan, even if it was through another. [center]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~[/center] Alysandra Lacroix, cousin of Queen Cybil and current ruler of Cyneriice Northan, closed her window's curtains and waited for the servant to leave before she tore into the letter Cybil had sent her. For the past few weeks, the replacement ruler - after having recovered from her stint in exile - had been engaging in regular correspondence with her still-ill cousin. Naturally, the pair had been thrilled to write to each other, even if Cybil found Alysandra a bit annoying, and Alysandra found Cybil a bit stiff. The letters appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary - the how-you're-doings, the random questions on life in general, each asking what it was like to live in their respective countries at the moment...et cetera. However, when nobody was around, and Alysandra was absolutely sure she could not be interrupted, she would unfold a tightly-folded, narrow strip of paper, and read its content. On this piece of paper were instructions - Cybil's requests on the rebuilding of Cyneriice Northan. They were vaguely coded, but Alysandra picked up enough on the skirted subjects and foggy references in the words to know what her cousin wanted. Knowing Cybil de Blanc like the lyrics of [i]Never Gonna Give You Up[/i] by Rick Astley off by heart was also a plus. And so, with the world unaware, the pair of royals swapped ideas and input on where to go with the country. A sizable area had been fully cleared of rebels around Northanholde, part of that area including the country's second most important city, Iqaluit. However, most of the instigators of the civil war were still running around in the country, especially in the remote areas to the north. The Baffin Mountains were also a place of concern, and Canadian and Disparuean soldiers were still around, helping drive the little rats out of hiding. Nonetheless, much progress was being quickly made with the CAN's involvement, and Cybil and Alysandra both agreed it was high time to restore the country's former, if minor, glory.

[i]- Public -[/i] "Though I never knew much of the Dranaggians, I believe it is appropriate to say that, if many of your are worried about the colonization of Antarctica, why not a compromise? Let nations settle there, but come up with a treaty that strictly prohibits habitation for uses other than scientific research, and perhaps a [i]very[/i] strict term on military usage?" - Queen Cybil de Blanc, live from Lillia Palace

Shadows. Shadows and sensations. Cybil squeaked, giving a jump as something warm and wet brushed against her hand. Disturbed by the sensation, her palm immediately flew to the front of her face, only to reveal nothing but bare skin. Cybil breathed out shakily, grasping at the hand around her temples, and turned back to the window that displayed the Royal Gardens. Uneasily, the ex-Queen glanced down, trying to spot what she had seen out of the corner of her eye before. Nothing. Nothing but the foliage and the quiet darkness. The Northanic sniffed, her hands at her sides now, and wandered toward the desk in the corner. Plopping herself down on the chair in front, the Queen crossed her arms, put them down on the wooden surface, and laid her head on the space they created. [i]Rat-tat-tat.[/i] "My Lady Cybil, are you all right in there? It's Luis." She said nothing, not even as she heard a couple of murmurs from behind the door, as if someone was speaking to Luis. Most likely out of stress and tiredness, Cybil felt a headache coming on, and didn't want to bother with anyone at the moment.

[i]Outside of the palace? [/i] Cybil immediately turned her head toward Luis. Her amber eyes suddenly glinted with interest, the woman perking up at the thought of getting around town. As she had said, she was not familiar with much of the world quite yet; walking and talking with the Australian populace would probably correct some of that. And, as Luis said, she could visit the Marchar as well — it was high time Cybil got to know those who gave Northan some of its finest reindeer herders. "Um...I'd like that, Your Highness, permitting you allow it," added Cybil. However, her voice was still on the quiet side, head tipped downwards and barely making eye contact, the young ex-noble blushing a little. Hannah was a bit on the intimidating side, to say the least; talking to her could feel like talking to the strict schoolteacher from Cybil's schoolgirl years. The fact that she had been the only teacher on the small island, a fact that parallelled how Hannah was the single most powerful woman in all of Australia, didn't help.

The ex-Queen's mind was racing too much for her to notice Hannah, save for a flash of brilliant silver-white, like a piece of the moonlight itself had appeared on the grounds. The young Northanic paced and paced, not muttering, but mentally banging pots and pans together inside her head. Banging, clanging, lumping, tumbling, stirring, wheezing, shifting, sliding, breaking, coming, bashing and smashing - bang, bang, bang, [i]bang[/i]. Her thoughts were a cacophony, a disorganized mess without rhyme or reason, peace or prosperity. Clang, shake, twang, shake, clang. It was like the crashing of the garden gates was echoing in the very centre of her mind, where there was no eye to the cyclone, only a foul core of irrational thinking. Sleep, sleep, she needed the sleep - but how could she sleep when [i]he[/i] was there? And Hannah, too, as she was a prisoner of Hannah's palace, trapped by her own injured mind and the need to rest, to recover, all because of the Smilers. Hannah was one of them. Twisting, turning - oh gods, she felt cold. Wasn't Australia supposed to be warm and lush? No, it was the fall...fall would go to winter. Would it snow? Would it be like home, Cyneriice Northan? She wanted to see the tundra again. The tundra, Castle Northanholde, and her Royal Chambers, where she could be safe and sound, away from the Smilers, from the proud Hannah, from the blocs and the countries and the politics and the medicines and the nightmares and Oceania and et cetera and et cetera and et cetera - Cybil winced. Her fingers were in her mouth, and the nails were jagged and uneven from being chewed. She had accidentally bit down on one of her fingers without knowing.

OOC: If you have a logical reason to be in the Australian Lillia Palace, then by all means, please join. [center]- === -[/center] She had the dream again - the one where Hank had her by the throat. She couldn't escape, couldn't breathe, paralysed internally as much as she was in the outside world. Though the nightmare moved fast enough that the details were weak and desaturated, like paint running along in a stream, she could still feel it hurt. Her throat being squeezed, and the laughing, and the extreme anxiety that caused her heart to race like mad. Cybil paced uneasily around the room, trying to tire herself. She grinded her teeth, pulled at her hair, tried taking deep breaths and looking out into the gardens, all to calm her mind. Although she had told Hannah she was fine a couple of days earlier, Cybil had fibbed somewhat; the medication she had been taking was not as effective, her having built up some sort of resistance. The first night, the dreams had been only slightly worrisome, but now, she was in a cold sweat, so terrified by the nightmare that she felt nauseous. It was not just the bad dreams that frightened her, however - it was also Hannah. The Asgeirsson Doctrine, which had made a bloc out of the Oceanic region, had been met with some - no, that was an understatement. It had been met with [i]much[/i] resistance, the Queen insisting that Borneo - which belonged to the People's Republic of China, an Asian nation - was in her bloc. Her reason? It had been old Hansa territory. Hannah had been saying it was for the region's own good, but Cybil knew better. She was a Smiler in all but name; she might have been a superwoman among Kintober's experiments, but she was not immune to the mental changes, no. The Queen was acting aggressively and pridefully, and frankly, Cybil was frightened of her for that, for it reminded her much of Hank. The powers of the continents did not like mixing territories. North American for the North Americans, Europe for the Europeans, Asia for the Asians - it was a code that Cybil, but a newcomer to the world of politics, was intimidated by. The Scottish had invaded Spain because Louisiana's rulers had set up some sort of outpost there; Hannah was butting heads with some [i]very[/i] important people over a single island. Cybil, as cowardly as it sounded, did not want to be caught in some sort of war or fight - she had had enough of killing, of watching people die in ways unimaginable. It was the Smilers all over again, only on a bigger scale. Oh gods, she didn't want to think about that....

Did it really sound as if the country was to blame for all this? Cybil would have never considered Cyneriice Northan to be the source of the problem...it was just a scrap of land with a political border around it! Any new King or Queen could get rid of it, changed how it was done, build upon it or tear it down, for they were the rulers and they could do with the land what they thought was best. Yet, she could not help but feel somewhat angry at its presence in the world — it was useless to her, ridden with civil war and her Grand Council nowhere to be found. Carrie had said that she had been taken from a slum, which had sprung up with the surge of immigrants Cybil had been (admittedly) unprepared to face; couldn't they find a place elsewhere, though? Was her country the only place decent enough on Earth, as frozen a climate it was in and backwater in its development as it was, for these people to go to? Northan was surrounded by three, four First World Countries, for Odin's sake! And then there were all those people snapping like puppies, complaining about how ridiculous Cybil was because she was trying to be nice.... Oh, great — she was going on a pity trip. Well, frankly, she didn't care as she kept quiet, only snapping herself out of it when she realized Hannah had said something...surprising. [i] "...Sarah has always spoken highly of you, they tell me that you are the 'Second Coming of Tintagyl' and that is something that I would like to see. Because I know that I've long since lost that chance."[/i] Looking up at the Australian Queen, Cybil said, subdued-sounding, "I'm not Sarah Tintagyl. Why do you think you can't follow this Tintagylist government she set up? Be Tintagylyish?"

Cybil blinked at Hannah's presence, as caught off guard by her appearing as the Queen had been after seeing Cybil and Luis. She smiled, giving a polite bow where she sat; though Hannah saw Cybil to still be royalty, Cybil thought little of that herself, as evidenced by her thoughts. But, despite her slightly pessimistic outlook on things at that moment, she could not help but grin as Hannah spoke of the new Commander's eagerness. "I am excited myself, as well," said Cybil, the encouraging thought bringing more strength to her voice. "And...yes, I have been sleeping better, thank you. I also don't get queasy in the mornings anymore; I think I'm adjusted to the dosage right." Cybil then became silent as she watched Hannah approach the fountain, retrieving herself a nice, cool drink from the goddess-dedicated monument. The girl, despite not having much of an interest in the Greek pantheon, could appreciate the daily ritual's need; Hannah looked up to Athena as much as she did Sarah Tintagyl. Heck, maybe even moreso — there were statues and monuments of the wisdom goddess all over the place! "So now, what brings you both out into the gardens on such a fine day. I do hope I'm not interrupting the conversation, if so I can leave," said Hannah. Cybil gently shook her head. "No, Your Highness. You are very welcome to join me. The good Sir was just talking to me about the Marchar's history; I'm...not very well-acquainted with much of the past, Queen Hannah. I've lived on a weather station outpost for most of my life, and I didn't really get to know much when I was...you know...."

So the Marchar had been everywhere, it seemed — Asia, Africa, Oceania, Europe, and now North America, in the form of Cybil's former kingdom. The young ruler seemed thoughtful, her brain slowly taking in the words Lord de Luit had said. Teito Klein — yes, that had been his name — had said something about the Marchar moving around often...Cybil always believed it was why they had adapted to her lands so well. She had made sure to put down certain laws on nomadic travel and living, mostly for her reindeer herding program, but then to accommodate this new ethnic group's needs. When Luis asked if Cybil was to remain in Australia, the young woman opened her mouth, but then she quickly closed it and frowned. Taking her eyes to the side for a moment, she mulled over her thoughts on the matter — Hannah [i]had[/i] said Cybil could remain in Australia as long as she needed to, correct? And the Queen had even accepted Cybil's offer to train with the Lillians, so that the former Northanic Queen would follow Hannah's example, and be a force to reckon with both in combat and at the political table. Cybil was also getting probably some of the best care in the world, and so far, her medications had been (mostly) giving her little trouble, except for the slight resistance. But she missed Cyneriice Northan. She felt terrible about what had been allowed to happen, how Alysandra had ended up being thrown in a boat and cast off, eerily similar in how Cybil had been lost. The Northanic kingdom was [i]her[/i] kingdom — not Alysandra's, not the CAN's, not Torklurapok's and [i]certainly[/i] not that of those who had started its civil war. As childish as it sounded, Cybil just wanted to go home, to fix things up and then stay quiet for a little while. Was that good enough for her kingdom, though? "...I don't know," said Cybil quietly, finding that answer to be the best.

[i]- Private -[/i] As all of this was going on, Hannah defending her decision to create the Oceanic equivalent of the CAN, Cybil looked tiredly down at a piece of paper in front of her. [quote][i]To Your Highness Hannah Asgeirsson, I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me. I feel Australia is of a noble people, and an equally noble ruler; thus, I feel it is right to ask you if you should establish a small Australian colony on a plot of Northanic land, full property of the Queendom of Australia. Before, I begin, let [s]me expl[/s][/i][/quote] Cybil hastily crossed out what she had written just a few days before, then tore the would-be letter into several pieces, making them as tiny as possible. She then threw the pieces into the dustbin beside her bed, and reached for her television's remote, deciding to see what was happening in the North American news.

Cybil, not wanting to be rude and having nothing else to do, sat down with Luis on the nearby bench. The man proceeded to explain that he had lived in New Zealand, and how he enjoyed sunbathing as a boy. Such a thing was foreign to Cybil — most of her youth had been spent helping her parents at the weather station, or playing with the few other children on that small, Arctic island she had been born on. It had been mostly used by the researchers and their families, and, despite being in one of the coldest climates on the planet, it was remarkably removed from the goings-on of the world. Before her teenage years, politics and worldly issues had been mostly a distant affair to the then-future ruler. "So, Cybil, I have heard much of you from some of those Marchar who returned after your struggles in Cyneriice. Tell me, with what you know of the Marchar, what do you think of them?" Cybil was quiet for a moment, tilting her head back in thought. She then answered, "A good people. Very Irish in their culture, I find — a lot of them still worship a Celtic goddess named 'Scathach', if I remember right. Some of them were interested in the Inuit and Norse gods when I last heard from them, though. They've been very successful with the reindeer herders as well — we have a large number of them. A lot of Finnish influence, too; your people settled in...Finland once, correct?"

Cybil jumped slightly at the sound of someone approaching her. It was still too soon after escaping from Hank and Loki for her to be comfortable with what she couldn't see; she [i]hated[/i] being caught off guard. Hank, with his almost-supernatural way of stalking his prey, refusing to make his move until the very last moment, was still visible in the back of her mind, always smiling at and mocking her.... No, she couldn't think like that. She'd start seeing him again if she started comparing everything to him. Hank was gone, Loki was gone (except for Seeker, who was actually quite benevolent), Odin had called them all off.... She was fine. Perfectly fine. Perfectly fine and safe, surrounded by all the Lillians and the rest of the guard, yes. Paranoia switched to curiosity when she heard the man's name. Hadn't some of the Northanic Marchar mentioned his name before? Or were her muddled thoughts playing with her head again? Wherever she had heard it, it did not matter, and she simply nodded as he bowed. She bowed slightly herself, but did so shyly, and softly said, "My pleasure, sir. I'm not a queen right now, though; don't worry about the bowing or formality. I'm just enjoying some fresh air."

[i]- Private -[/i] Cybil cared little for the Greek flavour the Lillia Palace had donned in honour of the Queen's new cultural fixation. She had always been more inspired by the Norse myths, the deities of which she worshipped, an influence given to her by her pagan mother; the older de Blanc was a devout follower of Odin. Furthermore, Cybil's own palace was not as glorious-looking nor as grand in size — a simple, once-important research station it had been, converted into the royal palace since Cybil didn't have the money to build one. The sheer detail and work that had been put into it was both foreign and overwhelming, and Cybil, after spending most of her years in simple dwellings in the middle of the tundra, often had headaches just looking at them. She would not say it to the Queen's face, but the overt complexity was, in her frank opinion, [i]ugly[/i]. The only exception to this, Cybil found, were the Royal Gardens. It was overcast, but the gardens were still beautiful, the ex-Queen walking amongst the exotic flowers and shrubs with soundless admiration. Cybil had lived most of her life above the tree line, and in the Arctic, the grass was not as nearly as green as it was below the equator. The gardens were a bit more muted than usual, as the Northern Hemisphere's spring was Australia's fall, but the place still looked beautiful. Cybil was thankful the Royal Physician had allowed her a bit of fresh air; the last few nights had been fitful, as the former noble had begun to build a resistance to the medication that quieted her sleep. It was the beauty of the Australian flora that kept her traumatic thoughts at bay, if only for a while — when all was quiet, and Cybil was alone, she sometimes still saw herself as Hank's prisoner. Even more disturbing were the sudden times she'd wake up in the night, and swear that Hank was standing over her, grinning madly down at the Northanic.

Yep. And anyone who's applied for land before may apply for more or less, due to failures on my part.

Humans can only hear to a certain degree, before the sound is too high or too low for them to be able to hear. The cry of a dying sylph is one such sound; it is so high-pitched, only the sylphs themselves — as well as certain animals — can detect it. To a sylph, it is the most unnerving sound to hear. When the sylph armour self-destructed, the sound of the tiny sylphs crying out as their essence was consumed by flame drove the remaining sylphs apart. Their shrieks were higher than those of the larger sylphs, sounding much like an ultrasound version of [i]children screaming[/i], and which seemed to make the larger sylph's screams sound worse. Fa immediately backed off on her assault, disturbed by the sound; she whirled away with the others, soaring high into the atmosphere in an attempt to get away from the burning armour and its victims.

There was an angry, reptilian growl from behind the cellar door as the salamander's tongue flicked in and out, gently sniffing the air. Much like a snake, it smelt with its tongue, although its nose served as a weak "backup" should something happened to its specialized tongue. The scent of old wood stood in the salamander's way, and, just as a wild salamander would tear up old tree trunks to find prey, one of the creature's sharp claws aimed itself for the wood. [i]CRUNCH![/i] Again the salamander aimed at the cellar door. [i]KER-RASH![/i] The creature hissed in irritation, and lunged forward with open jaws. Its muzzle burst through the closed door, and then, more wood could be cracking as it rammed itself against the door. With little effort afterwards, it broke down the door, snapping and hissing angrily as it barged to freedom. It would strike at anything in its way, steaming spit dripping frown its mouth, slinking across to the floor to its freedom.

You make a good point, Jerrey. (Why that didn't strike me before, I have no idea.) I'm lifting the restriction on land, then, and editing that into the guide. Edit: Fixed. I just realized I had completely forgotten about that rule in the first place. XD Please forgive the temporary brain freeze.

"FINALLY!" The exiled Queen Alysandra — who was not in her "awesometastic" royal robes, and instead, a simple sweater and skirt — stormed over to the jumper, face red and expression livid. The irritation and anger was bubbling up inside her like an overflowing pot of boiling soup, and she had a few choice words for whoever was at the Hudson Institute HQ. For the past several days, Alysandra had been furiously working a makeshift radio day and night, thanking the locals for their hospitality one moment, and angrily swearing into the radio the next. [i]Why[/i] the Institute hadn't picked up the first few hours was beyond her; the improv radio was supposed to be powerful enough to send a signal across the entire bay. Perhaps Alysandra had read Generalissimo's official manual wrong? "WHERE THE (CENSORED) HAVE YOU BEEN?!!" snarled Alysandra, gesticulating wildly. "MY COUSIN'S COUNTRY HAS BEEN SITTING IN CHAOS FOR THE PAST WHO KNOWS HOW LONG, AND I SEND UP FLARES AND EVERYTHING, AND YOU GUYS CAN'T EVEN COME AND [i]FIND ME[/i]!" Alysandra growled and tugged at her hair. "I FRIGGIN' ALMOST BROKE MY [i]VOCAL CORDS[/i] TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION?! SERIOUSLY, A CANOING FELLOW CAN FIND ME, [i]BUT HIGHLY-ADVANCED ARCTIC NATIONS [b]CAN'T[/b][/i]?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!"

OOC: Sorry if this doesn't fit, but I felt it would be good for an action scene.... [center]- ==== -[/center] In the midst of the chaos, the guilty fleeing their posts so as to not suffer the wrath of the Crown, a certain cage door was left unlocked. It wasn't much of a special cage — eight feet by eight feet, with metal air holes instead of bars — and it was one of many in the room that held various beasts and birds. The creatures had probably been for trade or personal use, most likely the former; after all, the underground needed to get their money from [i]somewhere[/i], since the legal businesses could be closely monitored. [i]Hiiiiiisssssssss....[/i] But the cage wasn't all that ordinary. Its insides were covered with scorch marks, and the metal had been fire-proofed, as the creature that lived inside was of a rather...incendiary nature. Said creature had been let loose by the chaos, and the other creatures in the room were going crazy, screeching and squawking at the sight of an apex predator slinking around. Fortunately for them, the animal was not hungry; it had been fed not too long ago, and instead was preoccupied with finding a way out, willing to kill and maim if it did. Its large fangs were bared, its saliva sizzling as it dripped from its mouth and onto the floor, wicked claws made to both burn and tear thanks to the creature's remarkably high body temperature. Yes, it was a salamander — a fire elemental. Plucked from the side of some volcano or another in the world, the beast's kind was mostly undomesticated, as salamanders were not creatures to obey orders and be locked up in pens. Instead, most of them were forced to work for the humans, slaves to the heat they required so badly in order to keep their bodies functioning. After being a prisoner of them for so long, mistreated and constantly doused with cold water to remain docile, it was obvious the fiery monster had little patience for anything that stood in its way.

Fa screeched as the timed bombs went off, her gaseous body consisting mostly of oxygen, partially consumed by the hungry flames. She shot into the air like an arrow, whistling as she did, and swirled around with the rest of the sylphs to circle the aircraft. Her eyes narrowed, and there was a loud hissing noise as she and her fellow sylphs changed their elemental make-up. A strong smell of gas signalled their new forms - living, vengeful avatars of carbon monoxide, fiercely angered that their territory had been so rudely intruded upon. Swiftly rising into the air again, the sylphs split into two groups and dove, circling the Knights Ignus before crashing back together, hopefully catching said Knights in their poisonous grasp. The creatures would then thin their bodies out, spreading their poison as far as they could while still remaining lethal. If the Knights Ignus pulled out anything that further consumed the sylphs, the group would part again and head for the higher skies, recovering before diving back down into the fray.

Suddenly, a radio crackled to life, somewhere in the institute or on one of the boats, or any of the settlements surrounding the bay. Whoever picked up the signal would receive this rather...irate message: "HELLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! [i]HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO![/i] PICK UP YOU IDIOTS I'VE BEEN CALLING FOREVER! WHAT THE (BEEP) IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!! CAN'T ONE FRIGGIN' RADIO SIGNAL GET THROUGH THIS (BEEP) MESS OF (BEEPITY BEEP BEEP)?!! I'M AT SOME SETTLEMENT AROUND THE NORTHERN BAY! [i]RESPOND ALREADY!![/i]" [center]- === -[/center] OOC: A sequel to Fizzy and mine's thread...which I need to find again and finish already. :-/

The only races aside from humans are your Earth-found flora and fauna, as well as the elementals, which I explained in the guide. Could the creature you pictured exist as a heavily-modified cyborg or outright construct if your nation was at a First World level? Certainly it could, and thus, you could roleplay such a creature.

Whatever floats your boat, Jerrey. ^.^ And Tahsir has a right to complain; it's no different than a game manufacturer hyping up the masses for a release date, and then completely dawdling and missing that release date by a mile for no apparent reason. It's an exercise of the right to free speech, I say.