conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Zalphier: In one corner of the battlefield, under the unmoving broken moon and red sun behind it, you all awaken to very alien feelings and sensations. Bones and muscle ache and there is the unmistakable thud of a beating heart in each chest, as the lot of you clamber up on shaking legs. Some even have the misfortune of having to scale small craters or crevices before being on the same level as the others. Looking about at the land framed by the red sky all can see the scores of bodies scattered about and sometimes in heaping piles, all with arms and armor blackened and damaged similarly to your own. The battle that had taken place here had to be truly grand in scale, and yet there was no clear winner. The different regalia and sigils among the scorched armor hinted at numerous different origins, but the scattered memories of your minds offered no clarity or answers, only more painful questions.
  
  And what was recalled? Each of you were certain you were a god or at least a god like being, and there was this great battle. The sound of glass shattering and then falling but in all directions, and finally... you're where you are now, with a very mortal feeling body. Looking beyond the immediate turmoil and devastation however yielded roughly three different paths, for any other direction simply continued into the seemingly endless sea of bodies about the battlefield.
  
  Roughly north and north east would be several tall mountains, some of their peaks capped with snow, while other blackened with steaks of red from recent eruptions, and a few even appear to have even started floating freely in the air.
  
  To the east were the unmistakable remains of buildings and walls. Some town that had been on the edge of the battle, but not spared much of the devastation as most of the structures appeared to be damaged to some degree even from your considerable distance. There was movement here as survivors hobbled through what remained of the gate, or any large enough hole in the walls.
  
  And finally to the south east stood a steadily thickening swamp that looked to have frozen over. Thick icicles hung from trees and vines while more ice and bits of snow settled on moss and swampy brackish water.
  
  Let's begin!
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: ezekielraiden: Arkhos     
  
  Pain. Confusion. Darkness. Being stretched thin, like an animal skin, but even thinner--thin enough to tear, to become porous. And then, suddenly, being  slammed  back into shape, but smaller, far, far smaller, disconnected, out of touch. Like going from limbs pulled to their breaking point to limbs crushed back into your torso.
  
  And behind it all, a sound like shattered glass, but...more fundamental. The warp and weft of the  world  torn, frayed, left ragged and flapping in a metaphysical breeze. Yet still hope endured, and by its endurance, so did he. Somehow he knew this, despite the struggle to remember  anything  through the pain and confusion. 
   
    
   "Where...am...I?"  His own voice was unfamiliar to him, gravelly and haggard, as though he had just breathed in a cloud of ashes and cinders. He opened his eyes--a labor that felt like it took hours--and struggled to his feet. The stench of death surrounded him; he knew, at the very least, he was on a battlefield. But which battle? Whom the combatants? He could not remember--but knew he should know this. Wearily surveying what he could see...this looked like a battle  everyone  lost. Even to be a bystander meant a defeat.
  
  His heart ached more than his muscles for those slain here, but he could do nothing for them now. Best to seek any other survivors of this charnel house, and then seek shelter. He was no stranger to the needs of a mortal form, but having no ability to even  try  to do anything about it...that was new. So much lost, and the world around him broken and bleeding no less than its denizens.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: JNAProductions: Azzelfet picks herself up off the ground. She looks about, blearily, for her tools. She finds some of them-enough to get by-but far from all of them.  "What's going on?"  she asks, to no one in particular. Her voice is strained, hoarse.
  
   "Hom? Hommy?"  she calls out, her voice steadily recovering.  "You there, little me?" 
  
  She looks around, finally having the sense to get her bearings. Her hands go to her hammer, as she sees the death and destruction around.  "Arkhos...  she says, seeing the other one,  "What's going on?" 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: ezekielraiden: Arkhos     
   "Arkhos..."  she says, seeing the other one,  "What's going on?" 
  
  Even through the ache and the horror, on hearing Azzelfet's voice, Arkhos cannot help but let the shadow of a smile pass over his face.  "I know not, my friend, save what we see before us. The battle is lost, but it yet seems hope remains to us."  He walks, slowly, closer to her before leaning against a piece of rocky rubble nearby. Mangled far beyond any ability to tell what it once was, almost like the visible world before them.  "I am not as I was. I suspect the same of you. Whatever we faced today...has taken something from us, and from the world also. We need to regroup. See if any others have survived this...this..."  
   
    
  He turns from her gaze, to stare at the mountain floating in the distance, unbound by earth below.  Only one word could suit this rending of the world.
  
   "Apocalypse." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Zalphier: "Shtay dere leetle vuns. Shtate yer namesh und who yeh shtand vid,"  came the sudden command from nearby. The veritable mountain of a half-orc standing strongly at ground level wasn't even trying to hide himself or the large loaded crossbow resting on his broad shoulder. Like many of the soldiers his armor was battered and burnt, as was the heavy weapon, but it'd been restrung and appeared just as powerful as ever. There was also quite the assortment of other weapons strapped about his girthy being, but that was the only one currently wielded as he grins with large jagged teeth at Arkhos and Azzelfet.  "Ansher fasht, or hy vill jusht ashume hyu iz vun of dey bad guys,"  he adds, but the weapon is still not leveled at either Arkhos or Azzelfet.
  
   
   Spoiler: half-orc translated: 
  I realize that the speech might not be the easiest to read so here's what he said in plain speak:
  "Stay there little ones. State your names and who you stand with. Answer fast or I will just assume you are one of the bad guys."
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: JNAProductions: "I am Azzelfet-goddess of invention and knowledge,"  she replies to the half orc, standing tall and proud.  "I... Am not entirely sure what is going on. But I assure you, we mean no harm to those who walk the path of justice." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: ezekielraiden: Arkhos     
   "Aye,"  he said, trying for a voice with more certainty.  "I am--I was--Arkhos. Though no longer so great in might, you need not fear that my heart has changed with my form."  Glancing again at the carnage around them, he added,  "Though I cannot blame caution in this time of darkness. I would fain follow you, if permitted."  If the man could speak with such strength, it implied a place of safety--or at least a place worth taking the risk to protect. Either way, far better a place to collect their wits and try to face the problems that lay ahead. 
   
    