And here's the a concept for the crest of Asino
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Community
Hey guys, The Spade here, As a service to the fans (if we have any still) I want to let you know that we have some forums up, if any of you are interested in that sort of thing, Its part of our early stages of production, again trying to establish more of a fan base, hope to see you there.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Continuation of the Bar Fight
“Hmph,” Marcus grunted as he took a seat at the bar and downed another glass of water. After Seven went down the bar was suddenly and awkwardly silent.
He glanced over at the bouncer who was now on his third, possibly forth, glass of liquor. “That stuff will dull your senses. Makes you much less alert.”
The bouncer looked at his glass thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged as he guzzled it all down and poured some more. He shook his head to fight off the burn and glanced over at Marcus. “Who says I need to be alert?”
“Whatever…” Marcus mumbled as silence still hung in the air. “You aren’t much for security.”
“I’m not even security, boy.” The man said with a grin as he straightened his tie and stood up. "In fact, here in Asino I guess you could call me Mr. President if that’s what you’re used to…but the name’s Alec.”
For the first time Marcus looked pretty shocked as he shot up from his chair and started to move aggressively toward Alec.
“OH! Also, I’d like you to meet a couple ’a my friends.” Alec said enthusiastically.
Alec gestured toward the entrance of the bar and a tall and imposing figure stepped in slowly as if on cue. He had military-style cropped blonde hair and wore a white shirt and tattered jeans with old brown work boots. On his right forearm he bore a club tattoo like the others that came before him, except his mark was adorned with a golden crown and spattered in blood. This man was massive in every sense, with rippling biceps and a torso that threatened to tear his shirt.
Right behind him followed another man: Much smaller in stature and very slender, he wore all black and had short jet black hair which appeared to be slicked back with grease. On the left side of this man’s neck was a very simple and telling tattoo: A Jack of Clubs card.
The two clubs stood side by side with arms crossed, staring blankly at Marcus.
"This the one, boss?” asked King in a deep and gravelly voice.
Alec nodded. “Took out three of your men without breakin’ a sweat. Seemed like a challenge to me. I figured you’d want to take care of this one personally. It’s not really any of my business yet…”
King cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck. His movements were methodical and slow. Jack, meanwhile, appeared to take a fighting stance. He lowered himself, spreading his legs apart to better anchor himself as he raised his fists.
Marcus continued to look on silently as King took a step forward and held his arm out as if to halt Jack.
Then without warning, King rushed at Marcus shoulder first. Shoulder met jaw, and both men crashed hard into the bar sending wood splinters of various sizes in every direction. The bartender now fled, and most of the rest of the place had long cleared out. What few stragglers there were, however, quickly made their exits as King rose back to his feet and wiped the debris from his shirt.
Before Marcus could slump to the ground or even try to catch his bearings, King grabbed him by the throat and had him up in the air, strangling him. Marcus pulled at King’s massive hand with both of his, trying to relinquish some of the larger man’s grasp, but to no avail. He kneed King in the chest several times, hoping that would be enough, but again the results were less than satisfying as King didn’t appear to even register the hits.
Marcus snarled and spat in King’s face. “Piece of shit,” he managed to choke out through desperate gasps for air.
King frowned and wiped his face clean with his free hand. “You shouldn’t have done that…”
Marcus instinctively brought his hands up to block as King’s massive fist drew back and quickly came forward on a crash course for his mouth. The attempt to guard was useless as King’s fist broke through easily, and Marcus heard and felt the distinct pop of knuckles meeting teeth. A succession of similar punches followed, and it was only seconds before all Marcus could taste was the iron of his own blood as he felt consciousness slipping away.
His body was beginning to go limp and Marcus knew it was only a matter of time before he would be completely incapable of fighting back. Summoning what little strength he had left, Marcus tilted his head down and with his last punch King hit nothing but forehead. As he brought his fist back in surprise and shook off the sting, Marcus was afforded an opening, and he took it. Bringing both arms up, he drove his fists into both sides of King’s throat and sent the big man staggering back, coughing and grabbing at his own neck now as he released Marcus, who fell to his knees.
Wiping the blood from his mouth, Marcus licked his lips and stumbled up to his feet. “You big fucking freak. Let’s see how you like it on the receiving end.”
Marcus speared King, and in a surprising show of strength aided by adrenaline, Marcus lifted the big man into the air and spun completely around with him over his shoulder, throwing King onto the bar top with a loud crack. Like lightning Marcus was on top of King, pounding relentlessly at his jaw. The hits started coming too fast for King to try and block, and by the time they were connecting he was too surprised to do anything about it.
Blood flew as King’s jawbone gave way and broke on both sides, but Marcus didn’t stop. In a rage-filled flurry he drove his elbow rapidly into King’s temple several times. Finally, King’s body lay lifeless atop the bar and, with a sigh of relief, Marcus jumped down off of the bar top and turned to face Jack. “You’re turn now, huh little guy?”
Jack shook his head almost mechanically as Marcus heard shifting behind him, followed by a pained groan and the thud of boots hitting the hardwood floor.
Goddammit.
“I’ve never had my jaw broken before.” King growled from behind Marcus as he rolled his neck and shoulders to loosen up.
Marcus turned slowly to see the big man once again towering over him, and without warning he felt a huge hand closing around his windpipe with crushing force. For the second time, Marcus was dangling in the air and at the mercy of his opponent.
“I’ve got just the trick for taking care of punks like you...” King reached into his pocket with his free hand as he spoke, and when he pulled his fist back out Marcus’ eyes widened at what he saw: King had produced a pair of brass knuckles, and what’s worse, every knuckle was individual studded.
Meanwhile, Alec stumbled by to grab another bottle of whiskey from the pile of wood that was once a bar. King suddenly stopped the beating for a moment, waiting to continue until Alec was back in his seat. By now, Marcus' senses were fading and he was nearly completely out of it as he hung in the air by his throat, but he remembered that he had brought something with him: his gun. Taking the pause in King's assault as an opportune moment to turn the tides in his favor once again, Marcus reached down for his gun and grabbed it from it's holster.
Without warning the beating resumed as Alec passed back by to go to his seat, and King struck twice like lightning, hitting Marcus in the jaw with both shots. Enraged by the sudden surge of pain, Marcus was awakened anew and brought his gun up swiftly, striking King rapidly in the temple with a relentless trio of pistol whips.
The towering man released his grip, and as soon as his feet hit the ground Marcus lunged at King and drove him to the ground. Teeth beared and growling, Marcus drove the butt of his gun into King's face over and over again in a blind fury. Finally when the big man was no longer showing signs of life, Alec staggered up from his seat and, visibly drunk, waved his arms to call for the fight to end.
Marcus looked up at Alec and holstered his gun, slowly rising to assume a defensive stance.
"King...you can go home now," Alec managed to slur through hiccups.
King's body remained lifeless aside from shallow breaths, and as Alec slumped back into his chair and drank the last literal drop of whiskey with a look of despair, a few of his men dragged the battered leader of the Clubs out of Heart's Desire.
With King's exit, the smaller Club started to slowly make his way toward Marcus.
"Alright tough guy, just 'cause you brought down the boss, you probably think this'll be easy huh? Well, looks can be deceiving ya' fuckin' mook. I may look like a Patronian Jungle Monkey, but I'll whip your ass like a Rock Lizard."
Marcus grumbled as the little man spoke. All the shit talking continued as Jack approached but started to trail off, going in one ear and out the other until finally the Jack of Clubs was standing face to face with Marcus.
The silence weighed heavily in the air as the two men locked eyes.
Unnoticed, Alec moved drunkenly beside Jack, and seemingly without reason struck him in the side of the head with thunderous force using the back of his hand, sending the little man crashing to the ground unconscious.
"Geez, mook isn't even a fucking word Jack. I told you to stop sayin' all that crazy shit. It annoys me."
Alec turned to face Marcus and grinned. "I decided it's my turn."
To be continued...
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A proper intro...
Well, kind of. This is a good chunk of the introduction to our story here. It kind of begins abruptly but that's because certain details of the beginning have been left out. Anyway, read on and tell us what you think Here it is:
Marcus bumped into what he had to assume was the bouncer as he passed. The man was seated, his tie loosened; he was drinking on the job.
If this is the kind of security they’ve got going here in Asino, I really don’t see how these people are holding up against Alexander…
"Sorry about that," the bouncer said before taking another long drink, shaking his head when he was done.
Marcus didn’t turn back as he walked to the bar. He had no time for guys like that; a small fry in a town full of promising prospects for a good head hunter. Marcus approached the bar, propping his elbows on the expensive counter top.
"What can I getcha suga’?" The blonde bartender asked, reaching down grabbing a glass, then pursing her lips at Marcus. Her dress shirt was half unbuttoned, flaunting both her cleavage and a tattoo of a two encased in a heart. Marcus eyed the tattoo before looking up.
"I want water, and I want to know where your boss is."
"Uh, sir?" The girl asked nervously looking around as she prepared the drink. "What do you mean? My manager...or..."
Marcus took a big gulp of water. "Well, I guess it really doesn’t matter. I’ll have someone’s attention in a few minutes here."
The same bouncer as before stepped up next to Marcus, looking at the bartender. Marcus clenched his fist ready for a confrontation, as the girl looked at him panicked.
"Sorry to be in the way, Two,” said the bouncer. “Just hand me that bottle there and I'll be out of the way."
The man nodded and turned away going back to his seat after he had retrieved his drink. By this time the bartender had pressed the silent alarm. Three men walked in, each wearing loose suits, and each with the tattoo of a club on their body. They were marked as Four, Five and Seven by the tattoos on their arms.
Marcus turned to them with the glass of water in his hand. "Six have something better to do?"
The three moved toward Marcus; the first one to engage grabbed his wrist.
"We think you should probably go," Four sneered.
Marcus jerked his wrist, but the man held on persistently. With one fluid movement, Marcus jerked harder, sending his attacker off balance and stumbling toward Marcus. In the same movement, Marcus thrust his elbow into the man’s neck. Upon impact, Four fell to the ground in a heap, coughing uncontrollably as his body convulsed.
Marcus looked back up at the other two. "Bitches," Marcus said mockingly as he looked at the two with a smirk.
Five and Seven looked at each other, and nodded. Five ducked suddenly and rushed at Marcus, grabbing behind his knees and lifting him into the air as Seven jumped onto a table then leaped at Marcus extending his arm to clothesline him. Five kept a firm hold as Marcus fell back, his head and Seven slamming into and collapsing a table. Five started spinning before throwing Marcus into a wall. The two stood over Marcus, their arms crossed.
"Get the fuck out of our bar," said Five in a commanding tone.
Marcus looked up and started laughing as he slowly returned to his feet.
"Really, that’s all it takes to intimidate people around here? Guess you’ve got your work cut out for you in this case, because I haven’t even begun." Marcus chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head, feeling for an open wound that he thankfully didn’t find.
Five rushed at Marcus again without hesitation. This time, with impressive speed, Marcus met him with a swift knee to his forehead knocking the man out cold.
Marcus looked back at Seven. "Are we going to keep up these shenanigans, or are you gonna get someone who can actually do something?"
The bouncer from earlier stood up and nonchalantly walked in between the two, headed to the bar again. "Sorry guys, one more time...need some ice." He walked to the counter with his glass, the bar girl promptly dropping in several cubes. Seven moved suddenly, reaching his hand into his jacket pocket. Marcus hadn’t seen it coming; he had been focused on the guy that kept interrupting.
Before Seven's hand was out of his jacket, the bouncer grasped his forearm, hard enough for the club to look scared. "Now listen here son, you better pray to your god, that you're reaching in there to pull out a phone or something, cause If you ain't, boy I'll break your goddamn arm here and now. You know the rules here." The young man nodded as a knife fell to the floor, which he promptly kicked away. "That’s more like it."
He then held up his glass to Seven and Marcus. "You all have fun now."
Marcus raised an eyebrow curiously at the increasingly talkative bouncer. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"I'm the guy that just got off work and don't feel like doing anything, so let’s leave it at that."
He sat back down, and poured himself a drink. In the blink of an eye Seven flew past him, crashing into the entrance of the bar and rolling out onto the street.
"Well, that was fast," the bouncer muttered in a disinterested tone. "Two, I reckon you better call in a few more guys, don't think this guy's gonna stop ’til he has someone’s attention."
Thursday, May 19, 2011
A Quick Update
First five chapters have been lined out completely, and a few pages have been sketched for what will eventually be issue one of the graphic novel series. Still taking baby steps honestly, but you have to start somewhere.
Anyway, what you see above is a quick sketch done in Illustrator as part of an eventual set of character profile images. See the little comment accompanying the image? Witty, aren't I?
But yeah, there you go. Wanted to throw a bone out into the blogosphere to make sure we don't completely fall off of that little corner of the radar we've been peaking onto for some. We will be working diligently to make updates more regular in the coming weeks and months, so keep your finger on the pulse.
- The Maelstrom
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Asino, The Rogue City
Asino (Ah-See-No) A region in the south eastern corner of the main continent, where the capital of the republic lies.
Some years before Alexander came into power, Alfred Kingston was a respected, and well liked politician within the republic. He represented a small country to the south east, its population was decent and law abiding, Alfred had been elected to “Clean up” the region and he preformed admirably. Soon a young Alexander came onto the scene, and Alfred agreed with his ideals, a world wide republic, where all would be accepted, and there would be common law, unifying the world, not just the prosperous mainland countries. Peace was assured under Alexander, and it was because of this, the prospect of the people being able to live peaceful lives, the prospect of the betterment of man kind that Alfred aided and supported Alexander in his rise to power. For a time, everything had gone according to plan, Alexander was an adept speaker and the public rallied behind him, even when he called for a vote to expand his political power. The people thought this would surely allow him to reign over the republic , and all countries within it fairly, the politicians saw it as an opportunity to unify the world, once the republic was a singular unit. Alexander was then granted powers over the entire mainland, however his means would not justify the ends. Alexander began to run rampant with peaceful ideals soon turned to violence, conquering all that he could. Alfred would then claim independence from the republic, and his country along with it. As other countries crumbled under Alexander’s iron fist, Asino remained strong, though not as prosperous as it had been, leaving the country to re-invent themselves, as the republic would not allow trade. Alfred’s son, Alec who was at the time a young man at the age of 17, was fashioned to rule Asino, in the event that Alfred would become unfit to rule for any reason. Time passed, and the republic kept its eye on Asino, though there was never any conflict. Then, one day, Alfred suddenly passed, unexpectedly. Alec, in his youth had been a rebellious man, and had toured underground fighting rings gaining much respect and fame amongst those who were in such circles. He would also become both a boxing and wrestling champion. However even during this, he studied his fathers craft of leadership. Alec was twenty when his father passed, leaving Asino to him. His father was not even cold in the ground, and Alexander’s lap dogs came to Asino’s door, declaring that Alec was obligated to return control of the area to President Alexander. Asino, which had become a beacon of hope to those who would not bend to Alexander’s will would be finally stamped out diplomatically. The meeting was televised to all corners of Syrias, it was to be a great day for the republic, world unification, all it required was Alec’s signature. Alec took the pen, and pressed it to the parchment, though deep in thought, he paused. One of Alexander’s representatives then made a comment, a comment which would shape the future. Alec had originally considered signing the treaty to protect his people, though he had never fully accepted his idea, as his father governed his people well. The representative said calmly, “Thank you Mr. Kingston, you are surely not a traitor as your father was.” There was a pause. The insult was blatant, as if the representative was flaunting his authority over Alec. For some time, Asino’s government was called “The Royale” signifying their status, and simply because Asino had become a massive, self sufficient casino of sorts. The republic knew all of them, as under Alfred’s rule no secrets has been kept. Alec scrawled across the line requesting his signature, before folding the paper gently, placing the pen on top and rising, he nodded his head. “True, I’m not the man my father was.” The citizens of Asino, and all those who sought to oppose Alexander let out a sigh of disappointment as Alec rose from signing the paper. The representative opened the paper to check the signature. Those around began to clap, as the representative face became confused. “What is the meaning of this, Kingston?” Alec lunged at the man and punched him in the jaw. “Means the next time you think about smartin’ off, you’ll have a goddamn broken jaw. Get the fuck out of my country. You bastards ain’t getting shit” This too was televised, as the guards would approach Alec as others left the scene, including the representative. The cameras continued to roll and broad cast, the republic to show what happened to those who were belligerent, the resistance to see the leader’s Mettle, and Asino to determine whether their new leader would back down. The broadcast was nearly cut short however, and one of the guards were thrown into the camera area, knocking them all over, breaking most. However one camera kept recording, which fed directly into the capital. The side-ways images showed the guards on the floor, and the head of Asino straightening his suit before turning away. “Get that trash outta here.” The peace broken, it would usher in a flood of people to Asino, many to escape Alexander and the republic. Few disagreed with Alec’s actions, for what ever reason, and Alec immediately began to completely fortify his country, with a seeming never ending flood of volunteers. Alec then changed the government, none were known by their real names, merely by a card name, signifying their rank. These ranks were divided into four sects, Spades, Diamonds, Clubs and Hearts, each controlling a piece of Asino’s running. The spades were executives and politicians, the diamonds were over the economy, the clubs over enforcement, and the hearts entertainment. In a matter of days Asino was reformatted. It became prosperous. It became powerful. And Alexander saw it as the biggest threat to him. For al practical purposes, Asino was now the spiritual home of the rebellion that was already beginning to muster. For the next several years Alexander’s goal would be to take Asino, however every attempt would fail. The army of asino was on par with his own, and with every failure, all his surviving soldiers were kept at asino, as indentured servants, performing all of the lower labors of asino. Then, thanks to Alec, they would be allowed to live in asino in peace with full rights, and many of them would, forgotten by the republic.
In short, present day Asino was made self sufficient, there are four sects to the Royale, determining their status and the work they do. The Spades are executives and 'guards' , the Clubs make up the military and law enforcement, whilst the Diamonds are bankers and business owners. Where as the Hearts are in control of recreation and entertainment. Each suite has a leader, known as the 'Ace' who commands their suite, Alec, Ace of spades, 'Clobber' Ace of Clubs, Sinatra Ace of Diamonds and Leigh the Ace of Hearts
Well, thats all you get for now, Asino will be where the first arc of the story happens, and of course it becomes vital later on, hope you guys enjoyed the glimpse of Alec as a character. Hopefully we'll have something better for you soon, Maelstrom is in the process of drawing the characters so that you guys can see them, then Our updates will have a little more too them, maybe a few more images, more things about the universe in general, more locations and of course more people.
- The Spade
Some years before Alexander came into power, Alfred Kingston was a respected, and well liked politician within the republic. He represented a small country to the south east, its population was decent and law abiding, Alfred had been elected to “Clean up” the region and he preformed admirably. Soon a young Alexander came onto the scene, and Alfred agreed with his ideals, a world wide republic, where all would be accepted, and there would be common law, unifying the world, not just the prosperous mainland countries. Peace was assured under Alexander, and it was because of this, the prospect of the people being able to live peaceful lives, the prospect of the betterment of man kind that Alfred aided and supported Alexander in his rise to power. For a time, everything had gone according to plan, Alexander was an adept speaker and the public rallied behind him, even when he called for a vote to expand his political power. The people thought this would surely allow him to reign over the republic , and all countries within it fairly, the politicians saw it as an opportunity to unify the world, once the republic was a singular unit. Alexander was then granted powers over the entire mainland, however his means would not justify the ends. Alexander began to run rampant with peaceful ideals soon turned to violence, conquering all that he could. Alfred would then claim independence from the republic, and his country along with it. As other countries crumbled under Alexander’s iron fist, Asino remained strong, though not as prosperous as it had been, leaving the country to re-invent themselves, as the republic would not allow trade. Alfred’s son, Alec who was at the time a young man at the age of 17, was fashioned to rule Asino, in the event that Alfred would become unfit to rule for any reason. Time passed, and the republic kept its eye on Asino, though there was never any conflict. Then, one day, Alfred suddenly passed, unexpectedly. Alec, in his youth had been a rebellious man, and had toured underground fighting rings gaining much respect and fame amongst those who were in such circles. He would also become both a boxing and wrestling champion. However even during this, he studied his fathers craft of leadership. Alec was twenty when his father passed, leaving Asino to him. His father was not even cold in the ground, and Alexander’s lap dogs came to Asino’s door, declaring that Alec was obligated to return control of the area to President Alexander. Asino, which had become a beacon of hope to those who would not bend to Alexander’s will would be finally stamped out diplomatically. The meeting was televised to all corners of Syrias, it was to be a great day for the republic, world unification, all it required was Alec’s signature. Alec took the pen, and pressed it to the parchment, though deep in thought, he paused. One of Alexander’s representatives then made a comment, a comment which would shape the future. Alec had originally considered signing the treaty to protect his people, though he had never fully accepted his idea, as his father governed his people well. The representative said calmly, “Thank you Mr. Kingston, you are surely not a traitor as your father was.” There was a pause. The insult was blatant, as if the representative was flaunting his authority over Alec. For some time, Asino’s government was called “The Royale” signifying their status, and simply because Asino had become a massive, self sufficient casino of sorts. The republic knew all of them, as under Alfred’s rule no secrets has been kept. Alec scrawled across the line requesting his signature, before folding the paper gently, placing the pen on top and rising, he nodded his head. “True, I’m not the man my father was.” The citizens of Asino, and all those who sought to oppose Alexander let out a sigh of disappointment as Alec rose from signing the paper. The representative opened the paper to check the signature. Those around began to clap, as the representative face became confused. “What is the meaning of this, Kingston?” Alec lunged at the man and punched him in the jaw. “Means the next time you think about smartin’ off, you’ll have a goddamn broken jaw. Get the fuck out of my country. You bastards ain’t getting shit” This too was televised, as the guards would approach Alec as others left the scene, including the representative. The cameras continued to roll and broad cast, the republic to show what happened to those who were belligerent, the resistance to see the leader’s Mettle, and Asino to determine whether their new leader would back down. The broadcast was nearly cut short however, and one of the guards were thrown into the camera area, knocking them all over, breaking most. However one camera kept recording, which fed directly into the capital. The side-ways images showed the guards on the floor, and the head of Asino straightening his suit before turning away. “Get that trash outta here.” The peace broken, it would usher in a flood of people to Asino, many to escape Alexander and the republic. Few disagreed with Alec’s actions, for what ever reason, and Alec immediately began to completely fortify his country, with a seeming never ending flood of volunteers. Alec then changed the government, none were known by their real names, merely by a card name, signifying their rank. These ranks were divided into four sects, Spades, Diamonds, Clubs and Hearts, each controlling a piece of Asino’s running. The spades were executives and politicians, the diamonds were over the economy, the clubs over enforcement, and the hearts entertainment. In a matter of days Asino was reformatted. It became prosperous. It became powerful. And Alexander saw it as the biggest threat to him. For al practical purposes, Asino was now the spiritual home of the rebellion that was already beginning to muster. For the next several years Alexander’s goal would be to take Asino, however every attempt would fail. The army of asino was on par with his own, and with every failure, all his surviving soldiers were kept at asino, as indentured servants, performing all of the lower labors of asino. Then, thanks to Alec, they would be allowed to live in asino in peace with full rights, and many of them would, forgotten by the republic.
In short, present day Asino was made self sufficient, there are four sects to the Royale, determining their status and the work they do. The Spades are executives and 'guards' , the Clubs make up the military and law enforcement, whilst the Diamonds are bankers and business owners. Where as the Hearts are in control of recreation and entertainment. Each suite has a leader, known as the 'Ace' who commands their suite, Alec, Ace of spades, 'Clobber' Ace of Clubs, Sinatra Ace of Diamonds and Leigh the Ace of Hearts
Well, thats all you get for now, Asino will be where the first arc of the story happens, and of course it becomes vital later on, hope you guys enjoyed the glimpse of Alec as a character. Hopefully we'll have something better for you soon, Maelstrom is in the process of drawing the characters so that you guys can see them, then Our updates will have a little more too them, maybe a few more images, more things about the universe in general, more locations and of course more people.
- The Spade
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Argotte: Gangland
Here we go. A little preview of things to come. Something I wrote on a whim a while ago. I believe it's been almost two years since I first put this story to virtual-paper actually. Here ya go:
Marcus couldn't help his reaction at what he saw in front of him: Civilization. He smiled...
Well, he smirked at least, which is the best he could manage with all the frown lines permanently engraved into his face. Something about the bright and sunny atmosphere of the small town of Argotte made him feel content despite his current predicament. He had just left the megalopolis Xanflux not three hours ago, and he decided a leisurely stop through the satellite village wouldn't be such a terrible idea. After all, lately it was all Marcus could do to find time for a moment of rest amidst the madness. Aurora and the others split paths with Marcus only a day ago, and yet their safety weighed heavy on his thoughts. Sure, Ace was the most imposing figure he'd ever seen on two legs, and the other two were the furthest from push-overs that you could possibly imagine. Still, Marcus felt pangs of worry ever since their separation, especially after he'd had a run in with some of President Alexander's men. No Knights, luckily - but then again maybe the Knights just went after the larger group.
Whatever...
Marcus did the only thing he could - he stopped thinking about it and dropped by one of the local pubs for a bite to eat. The only indication that the small one-story wooden shack wasn't abandoned was the superfluous amount of smoke billowing up out of the windows of the place. Like something out of an ancient spaghetti western, the joint had rotted batwing doors that looked like they might fall off of the hinges if the winds picked up too much. Either way, Marcus was hungry and the food within, he imagined, had to be cheap.
Cautiously, Marcus took his first step inside and glanced around before walking in. The first thing that was immediately evident was the source of all of that smoke. The place wreaked of cigarettes and ashes practically covered the tables as if the patrons inside had never heard of an ashtray. Marcus took it all in - what he could make out through the smoke at least - as he moved to the bar and sat down. To accentuate the already inviting decor - more rotted wood on the walls and floors, chipped paint everywhere with unrecognizable stains, and a leaky ceiling with only the dimmest of lighting - there was some dried puke in the far corner of the building under a table where a couple of rough looking guys were engaging in an arm-wrestling competition. One of the men eyed Marcus briefly as he looked around, giving off something that wouldn't accurately be described as a friendly vibe.
"I'll have the pastrami on rye with some ice water," Marcus called to the server as he settled in, deciding to mind his own business for the greater good.
He was acknowledged with a nod by the tanned, bushy haired man at the counter, who was fiddling a toothpick around in his mouth full of dark yellow teeth. It was hard to get a good look at the man through the "atmosphere", but that was probably a good thing considering the fact that Marcus was about to be eating.
As he ate Marcus considered what he'd need for the remainder of the solo portion of this trip. The group had agreed to meet up in Kalimthras, but that was still days from here - well, days on foot. But Marcus had no choice other than to travel on the ground as he tried to keep a low profile for the moment. The others were most likely going by train and boat, and at some point Marcus would need to find alternate forms of transportation to overcome the obvious obstacle of the ocean, but not yet.
Marcus reached into his wallet after taking his last bite of food and, with a groan of unpleasant surprise, pulled from it what little money he had left.
He threw his last five Republic silver coins on the bar and left in search of a place to sleep. The sun was going down and to travel through the forests leading to shore would be ridiculous with all of the creatures that come out in the pitch-black of night. Marcus cringed at the thought. Tree ants were the only thing that even remotely scared him, and they were indigenous to nearly any forested area on Syrias.
Marcus stepped into the only inn in town. The attendant was napping. Marcus smirked and crept past silently, creeping upstairs and into an unoccupied room virtually noiselessly. If he could leave early enough in the morning, no one would ever know and he'd have had a free nap. If not, then a messier - but still free - nap. The place was no five star establishment for sure, but the creaky floors and roach-ridden sheets would have to do. After hitting the bed, it only took Marcus a second to pass out. He didn't even bother to take off his boots.
---- Sometime later that night ----
Marcus awoke with a start. His peaceful slumber was interrupted by a loud noise...the distinct pop of small arms fire rang out from somewhere outside. Marcus rolled out of bed feeling groggy, rolling his neck to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness, and stumbled weakly to the window to look around below. His eyes widened immediately at what he could make out through the fog of sleep.
In an alleyway beside the inn, a man in a suit lay dead - his body was riddled with bullet wounds decorated with spatters of crimson - with a small group of young thugs crowded around him. They all wore black bandannas or ski masks, and carried automatic weapons. One was crouched down, searching the fresh corpse for valuables, as the others quietly joked and talked amongst themselves. All were huddled closely around the corpse, waiting to see the spoils of their work.
Marcus seethed with anger. He'd seen this sort of tough-guy posturing before. Intimidating the weak was never impressive, but thugs like these thrived on it. Marcus could only shake his head as he slid the window open.
"Hey motherfucker, not so rich now are ya?!"
The gang roared with laughter as their ski-masked leader slapped the lifeless man on the cheek before rising to his feet, pocketing the credit cards and cash from the victim's wallet.
"Let's get out of..."
A man stumbled out from behind the inn and grabbed the gang leader by the shoulders to lift himself back up, staggering backward and chuckling, evidently intoxicated. The gang leader shoved the drunk man and swiftly pulled a knife from his hip and drove it deep into the man's arm.
That was it.
Suddenly Marcus looked up into the thug's eyes, his gaze cold and filled with hate. The miming of a drunken stupor was replaced instantly by a rigid and aware state to further illustrate and accompany the anger in his eyes. Marcus gripped the hand of the gang leader that was being used to hold the knife and squeezed. With a series of loudly audible snaps, bones were broken and the leader howled in pain as Marcus growled and twisted the knife deeper into his wound before releasing the thug's broken hand. The gangster stumbled back, and before he could blink Marcus wrenched the knife free from his arm with a painful wince and threw it with startling accuracy, hitting his target right between the eyes. With a thud, the lifeless body of the gang's former leader hit the ground, and Marcus let out a bloodthirsty roar.
"The rest of you lowlifes want some!!??"
Every single man raised his weapon and readied it to fire as one stepped forward to speak.
"Who do you think you're messing with, punk? We OWN this town! Let's see you fight a gun!" the man taunted as the gang responded with an uproar of obscenities.
Marcus grinned. "You bring up a good point. Fighting a gun is a terrible idea..." Marcus slowly reached down into his left jacket pocket, casually revealing a grenade, his thumb held firmly under the pin. "...but shooting one of these is even worse. Always come prepared, I say." The thugs staggered backward almost in unison, all visibly horrified as they attempted to regain their composure - and control of the situation - by raising their guns once again.
"We ain't scared of you! This is our city!" the new leader yelled behind a wall of false confidence as his men stood frozen behind him, not wanting to make the first move. The gang was sweating bullets as the silence grew unbearable. This standoff with an apparent madman was destroying their collective will.
"You know what, I've decided that you guys are taking too long." Marcus remarked impatiently as he suddenly ripped the pin free from the hand held explosive. Panic ensued as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The grenade dropped from Marcus' hand as men fled in all directions, leaving their guns behind to run faster while crying out in fear. At last, with a clack the explosive hit the ground, rolled, and came to rest at Marcus' feet.
A few seconds passed in the now vacant alley.
Silence.
At last Marcus dropped the pin anticlimactically and, hands in pockets, strolled nonchalantly out of the alleyway and on his way out of Argotte, whistling a wistful tune.
The toy grenade rolled harmlessly on the sidewalk as Marcus kicked it along.
Figured a bunch of thugs would have been smart enough to know the difference. Lucky they didn't I suppose...
And that's all for now! Hopefully I'll have some time to post a little bit more in the coming days to give readers a bit of insight into the specifics of this universe so things don't get too cryptic as more is added to the blog. Anyway, thanks for dropping by. As always, there's more to come, so don't stop checking.
- The Maelstrom
Marcus couldn't help his reaction at what he saw in front of him: Civilization. He smiled...
Well, he smirked at least, which is the best he could manage with all the frown lines permanently engraved into his face. Something about the bright and sunny atmosphere of the small town of Argotte made him feel content despite his current predicament. He had just left the megalopolis Xanflux not three hours ago, and he decided a leisurely stop through the satellite village wouldn't be such a terrible idea. After all, lately it was all Marcus could do to find time for a moment of rest amidst the madness. Aurora and the others split paths with Marcus only a day ago, and yet their safety weighed heavy on his thoughts. Sure, Ace was the most imposing figure he'd ever seen on two legs, and the other two were the furthest from push-overs that you could possibly imagine. Still, Marcus felt pangs of worry ever since their separation, especially after he'd had a run in with some of President Alexander's men. No Knights, luckily - but then again maybe the Knights just went after the larger group.
Whatever...
Marcus did the only thing he could - he stopped thinking about it and dropped by one of the local pubs for a bite to eat. The only indication that the small one-story wooden shack wasn't abandoned was the superfluous amount of smoke billowing up out of the windows of the place. Like something out of an ancient spaghetti western, the joint had rotted batwing doors that looked like they might fall off of the hinges if the winds picked up too much. Either way, Marcus was hungry and the food within, he imagined, had to be cheap.
Cautiously, Marcus took his first step inside and glanced around before walking in. The first thing that was immediately evident was the source of all of that smoke. The place wreaked of cigarettes and ashes practically covered the tables as if the patrons inside had never heard of an ashtray. Marcus took it all in - what he could make out through the smoke at least - as he moved to the bar and sat down. To accentuate the already inviting decor - more rotted wood on the walls and floors, chipped paint everywhere with unrecognizable stains, and a leaky ceiling with only the dimmest of lighting - there was some dried puke in the far corner of the building under a table where a couple of rough looking guys were engaging in an arm-wrestling competition. One of the men eyed Marcus briefly as he looked around, giving off something that wouldn't accurately be described as a friendly vibe.
"I'll have the pastrami on rye with some ice water," Marcus called to the server as he settled in, deciding to mind his own business for the greater good.
He was acknowledged with a nod by the tanned, bushy haired man at the counter, who was fiddling a toothpick around in his mouth full of dark yellow teeth. It was hard to get a good look at the man through the "atmosphere", but that was probably a good thing considering the fact that Marcus was about to be eating.
As he ate Marcus considered what he'd need for the remainder of the solo portion of this trip. The group had agreed to meet up in Kalimthras, but that was still days from here - well, days on foot. But Marcus had no choice other than to travel on the ground as he tried to keep a low profile for the moment. The others were most likely going by train and boat, and at some point Marcus would need to find alternate forms of transportation to overcome the obvious obstacle of the ocean, but not yet.
Marcus reached into his wallet after taking his last bite of food and, with a groan of unpleasant surprise, pulled from it what little money he had left.
He threw his last five Republic silver coins on the bar and left in search of a place to sleep. The sun was going down and to travel through the forests leading to shore would be ridiculous with all of the creatures that come out in the pitch-black of night. Marcus cringed at the thought. Tree ants were the only thing that even remotely scared him, and they were indigenous to nearly any forested area on Syrias.
Marcus stepped into the only inn in town. The attendant was napping. Marcus smirked and crept past silently, creeping upstairs and into an unoccupied room virtually noiselessly. If he could leave early enough in the morning, no one would ever know and he'd have had a free nap. If not, then a messier - but still free - nap. The place was no five star establishment for sure, but the creaky floors and roach-ridden sheets would have to do. After hitting the bed, it only took Marcus a second to pass out. He didn't even bother to take off his boots.
---- Sometime later that night ----
Marcus awoke with a start. His peaceful slumber was interrupted by a loud noise...the distinct pop of small arms fire rang out from somewhere outside. Marcus rolled out of bed feeling groggy, rolling his neck to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness, and stumbled weakly to the window to look around below. His eyes widened immediately at what he could make out through the fog of sleep.
In an alleyway beside the inn, a man in a suit lay dead - his body was riddled with bullet wounds decorated with spatters of crimson - with a small group of young thugs crowded around him. They all wore black bandannas or ski masks, and carried automatic weapons. One was crouched down, searching the fresh corpse for valuables, as the others quietly joked and talked amongst themselves. All were huddled closely around the corpse, waiting to see the spoils of their work.
Marcus seethed with anger. He'd seen this sort of tough-guy posturing before. Intimidating the weak was never impressive, but thugs like these thrived on it. Marcus could only shake his head as he slid the window open.
"Hey motherfucker, not so rich now are ya?!"
The gang roared with laughter as their ski-masked leader slapped the lifeless man on the cheek before rising to his feet, pocketing the credit cards and cash from the victim's wallet.
"Let's get out of..."
A man stumbled out from behind the inn and grabbed the gang leader by the shoulders to lift himself back up, staggering backward and chuckling, evidently intoxicated. The gang leader shoved the drunk man and swiftly pulled a knife from his hip and drove it deep into the man's arm.
That was it.
Suddenly Marcus looked up into the thug's eyes, his gaze cold and filled with hate. The miming of a drunken stupor was replaced instantly by a rigid and aware state to further illustrate and accompany the anger in his eyes. Marcus gripped the hand of the gang leader that was being used to hold the knife and squeezed. With a series of loudly audible snaps, bones were broken and the leader howled in pain as Marcus growled and twisted the knife deeper into his wound before releasing the thug's broken hand. The gangster stumbled back, and before he could blink Marcus wrenched the knife free from his arm with a painful wince and threw it with startling accuracy, hitting his target right between the eyes. With a thud, the lifeless body of the gang's former leader hit the ground, and Marcus let out a bloodthirsty roar.
"The rest of you lowlifes want some!!??"
Every single man raised his weapon and readied it to fire as one stepped forward to speak.
"Who do you think you're messing with, punk? We OWN this town! Let's see you fight a gun!" the man taunted as the gang responded with an uproar of obscenities.
Marcus grinned. "You bring up a good point. Fighting a gun is a terrible idea..." Marcus slowly reached down into his left jacket pocket, casually revealing a grenade, his thumb held firmly under the pin. "...but shooting one of these is even worse. Always come prepared, I say." The thugs staggered backward almost in unison, all visibly horrified as they attempted to regain their composure - and control of the situation - by raising their guns once again.
"We ain't scared of you! This is our city!" the new leader yelled behind a wall of false confidence as his men stood frozen behind him, not wanting to make the first move. The gang was sweating bullets as the silence grew unbearable. This standoff with an apparent madman was destroying their collective will.
"You know what, I've decided that you guys are taking too long." Marcus remarked impatiently as he suddenly ripped the pin free from the hand held explosive. Panic ensued as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The grenade dropped from Marcus' hand as men fled in all directions, leaving their guns behind to run faster while crying out in fear. At last, with a clack the explosive hit the ground, rolled, and came to rest at Marcus' feet.
A few seconds passed in the now vacant alley.
Silence.
At last Marcus dropped the pin anticlimactically and, hands in pockets, strolled nonchalantly out of the alleyway and on his way out of Argotte, whistling a wistful tune.
The toy grenade rolled harmlessly on the sidewalk as Marcus kicked it along.
Figured a bunch of thugs would have been smart enough to know the difference. Lucky they didn't I suppose...
And that's all for now! Hopefully I'll have some time to post a little bit more in the coming days to give readers a bit of insight into the specifics of this universe so things don't get too cryptic as more is added to the blog. Anyway, thanks for dropping by. As always, there's more to come, so don't stop checking.
- The Maelstrom
A Political Brawler
Hey guys, Its Spade again, we're still working on something legitimate to put here, possibly a short origins-like comic that shows the first kills of our main cast. Until then, I'll give you another member of the cast to look at. He's a major player right off the bat, and becomes a driving force later on. Here we go.
Alec Cornelius Thorson
Alias: Ace, Ace of Spades
Birthday: 7/12/458 (27)
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Hair Styles: Shoulder length, slicked back/ pony tail or Not styled, messy
Skin: Marvelously tanned
Height: 6’0”
Occupation: Commander in Chief of the Royale, and the country of Asino
Strong Points: Administration, business, likeable, loyal
Has Trouble With: being too laid back, cocky, temper,grudges
Short Term Goal: Vengeance upon Alexander
Long Term Goal: Overthrow the Republic, and usher in a new era of peace and freedom
Personality: Alec is a professional above all else. He views his city as his number one, nothing else can ever come first. Because of this, his personality varies. When 'at work' his demeanor is serious, always. Some days he hardly smiles while attending to his duties. To his citizens, he is benevolent and compassionate, to his enemies he appears cold, cynical, and cut throat, perhaps even murderous. Alec is a man that knows that politics is all about appearances. Doubly so when on the verge of war. However, for every first there is a second, for Alec that second is a playboy. The moment he leaves his office, every day his troubles instantly was away and he becomes a light-hearted, partier.. His parties are renowned, all throughout Syrias, Alec is known to be wild, and live the good life, with the cocky 'I can take on the world' attitude to go with it. Though there are still a few things to him that must always remain serious. He also has a bit of a temper, though slow to anger in most circumstances.
Sum of Personality in One Word: Leader
Antithesis of Personality in One Word: Coward
Personal History:
He had been a rambunctious child all his life. He attended a Republic school in the capital city, where he received one of the greatest educations in Syrias. When he was around 12 or so, he decided that he would, like his father become a politician, in hopes of one day creating a utopia for all of Syrias. However, he would learn a terrible lesson while in the republic academy. Might makes right. A philosophy that he took to heart. Despite only being about 12 years old, he became progressively violent, constantly chastised for his behavior. He would frequently fight other children, many of them several years his senior, and he would fight brutally. However, he was never expelled. It was his father, Alfred who withdrew him from the academy. He was told that several things were going on, that his mother and alfred were having problems so they were moving to their summer home along the coast. This also was the region that Alfred was originally from, a small territory called Asino, where Alfred had began his political career, and now represented the region in the republic. This is where he continued his education until he was around 19, when he became rebellious.
Asino was like a tourist attraction for the majority of Syrias, featuring resorts, casinos, theatres and various other forms of entertainment. Among these were fighting tournaments, much like those in rancora, but these were more civil, never ending in death. He began to attend these bouts and taught himself how to fight, how to take a hit, and how to injure someone. All this he did by watching, and studying. Then, one day he decided to actually participate. He became well known in the fighting circut, winning several champion titles, in just a few months. He would determine however that here in Asino, people weren't challenging enough. Ever since he had been in the academy, his workout routine had been set in stone, allowing him to be in peak physical condition. He was arrogant, after an accidental death in the ring, he decided to go to Rancora, where he could find more challenging opponents. His father, demanded that he stay, that his place was in Asino, that world events made it unsafe for people like himself and his father. Of course Alfred's demands were ignored, and within a months time his first fight was in the Blood Tournament. He won, and killed his opponent with his bare hands. As he was leaving the arena, he looked up and saw a gun aimed at his chest. They shot.
Life begins with a bang. This is far more literal for he than most. His clearest memory is an explosion as he staggered out, mostly nude, from a complex at the southern in of the republic territory, and the gunshot that put him there. Confused he looked back and shook his head trying to remember. He remembered his father, Alfred a Republic Representative, and his mother, Rachel an assistant to the republic scientist Sandro. He knew his home and where it was, and he eventually remembered everything about himself, aside from his name.
He eventually arrived back home, feeling like a changed man. His father accepted him with open arms, laughing, despite the fact that his son had nearly been killed. Alfred laughed that he had to tell his son his name was Alec, and said that perhaps now Alec would realize that might didn't make right, as he had been shot. Alec agreed and took a far more peaceful approach to life. Following in his fathers footsteps, he became politically active as the republic handed over more and more power to The President Alexander.
Alfred would be one of the few who refused Alexander's power, claiming that Asino was now an independent nation. From across Syrias people came, those who would refuse to allow Alexander to rule their lives came to Asino, and despite the republic's refusal to trade, Asino prospered. Then there was peace for a time, as Alfred grew older, Asino knew nothing but the most peaceful time in its life, the republic even began trading again. Through all of this, Alec stayed by his father's side. When his father died, Alfred was heart broken, and Asino, with no leader was now ripe for the republic's picking. Alec saw this as a time to repent for his sins, and named himself the ruler of Asino, with the blessing of the populous. He attended a meeting with a republic representitive, sent by Alexander to have Alec sign Asino to the republic, essentially a formal apology of succession. Needless to say the meeting ended terribly for the republic, the event had been televised, and all of the republic watched as Alfred's son too was also a pillar of determination against the republic. When Alec returned home, he was celebrated a hero, however he went straight to work, forming ways of protecting the citizens, including a new structure for the government, so that people were never known by name, only by rank. He formed the Royale, which consisted also of an army. the republic began showing small signs of agression, which were quickly stamped out as soon as his force entered Asion's borders. Alec continued to lead the country against Alexander, never attacking the republic, however many small settlements would request to join asino, and Alec would take them with open arms. Now Alexander takes the very existence of Alec Thorson as a personal insult. Alec knows of a price on his head and has already personally dispatched several bounty hunters. He now awaits Alexander's next move.
Thats it, my next update will be a bit of information about the 'city' that we've been talking so much about in this profile, and in the end of Marcus' profile. Asino
Alec Cornelius Thorson
Alias: Ace, Ace of Spades
Birthday: 7/12/458 (27)
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Hair Styles: Shoulder length, slicked back/ pony tail or Not styled, messy
Skin: Marvelously tanned
Height: 6’0”
Occupation: Commander in Chief of the Royale, and the country of Asino
Strong Points: Administration, business, likeable, loyal
Has Trouble With: being too laid back, cocky, temper,grudges
Short Term Goal: Vengeance upon Alexander
Long Term Goal: Overthrow the Republic, and usher in a new era of peace and freedom
Personality: Alec is a professional above all else. He views his city as his number one, nothing else can ever come first. Because of this, his personality varies. When 'at work' his demeanor is serious, always. Some days he hardly smiles while attending to his duties. To his citizens, he is benevolent and compassionate, to his enemies he appears cold, cynical, and cut throat, perhaps even murderous. Alec is a man that knows that politics is all about appearances. Doubly so when on the verge of war. However, for every first there is a second, for Alec that second is a playboy. The moment he leaves his office, every day his troubles instantly was away and he becomes a light-hearted, partier.. His parties are renowned, all throughout Syrias, Alec is known to be wild, and live the good life, with the cocky 'I can take on the world' attitude to go with it. Though there are still a few things to him that must always remain serious. He also has a bit of a temper, though slow to anger in most circumstances.
Sum of Personality in One Word: Leader
Antithesis of Personality in One Word: Coward
Personal History:
He had been a rambunctious child all his life. He attended a Republic school in the capital city, where he received one of the greatest educations in Syrias. When he was around 12 or so, he decided that he would, like his father become a politician, in hopes of one day creating a utopia for all of Syrias. However, he would learn a terrible lesson while in the republic academy. Might makes right. A philosophy that he took to heart. Despite only being about 12 years old, he became progressively violent, constantly chastised for his behavior. He would frequently fight other children, many of them several years his senior, and he would fight brutally. However, he was never expelled. It was his father, Alfred who withdrew him from the academy. He was told that several things were going on, that his mother and alfred were having problems so they were moving to their summer home along the coast. This also was the region that Alfred was originally from, a small territory called Asino, where Alfred had began his political career, and now represented the region in the republic. This is where he continued his education until he was around 19, when he became rebellious.
Asino was like a tourist attraction for the majority of Syrias, featuring resorts, casinos, theatres and various other forms of entertainment. Among these were fighting tournaments, much like those in rancora, but these were more civil, never ending in death. He began to attend these bouts and taught himself how to fight, how to take a hit, and how to injure someone. All this he did by watching, and studying. Then, one day he decided to actually participate. He became well known in the fighting circut, winning several champion titles, in just a few months. He would determine however that here in Asino, people weren't challenging enough. Ever since he had been in the academy, his workout routine had been set in stone, allowing him to be in peak physical condition. He was arrogant, after an accidental death in the ring, he decided to go to Rancora, where he could find more challenging opponents. His father, demanded that he stay, that his place was in Asino, that world events made it unsafe for people like himself and his father. Of course Alfred's demands were ignored, and within a months time his first fight was in the Blood Tournament. He won, and killed his opponent with his bare hands. As he was leaving the arena, he looked up and saw a gun aimed at his chest. They shot.
Life begins with a bang. This is far more literal for he than most. His clearest memory is an explosion as he staggered out, mostly nude, from a complex at the southern in of the republic territory, and the gunshot that put him there. Confused he looked back and shook his head trying to remember. He remembered his father, Alfred a Republic Representative, and his mother, Rachel an assistant to the republic scientist Sandro. He knew his home and where it was, and he eventually remembered everything about himself, aside from his name.
He eventually arrived back home, feeling like a changed man. His father accepted him with open arms, laughing, despite the fact that his son had nearly been killed. Alfred laughed that he had to tell his son his name was Alec, and said that perhaps now Alec would realize that might didn't make right, as he had been shot. Alec agreed and took a far more peaceful approach to life. Following in his fathers footsteps, he became politically active as the republic handed over more and more power to The President Alexander.
Alfred would be one of the few who refused Alexander's power, claiming that Asino was now an independent nation. From across Syrias people came, those who would refuse to allow Alexander to rule their lives came to Asino, and despite the republic's refusal to trade, Asino prospered. Then there was peace for a time, as Alfred grew older, Asino knew nothing but the most peaceful time in its life, the republic even began trading again. Through all of this, Alec stayed by his father's side. When his father died, Alfred was heart broken, and Asino, with no leader was now ripe for the republic's picking. Alec saw this as a time to repent for his sins, and named himself the ruler of Asino, with the blessing of the populous. He attended a meeting with a republic representitive, sent by Alexander to have Alec sign Asino to the republic, essentially a formal apology of succession. Needless to say the meeting ended terribly for the republic, the event had been televised, and all of the republic watched as Alfred's son too was also a pillar of determination against the republic. When Alec returned home, he was celebrated a hero, however he went straight to work, forming ways of protecting the citizens, including a new structure for the government, so that people were never known by name, only by rank. He formed the Royale, which consisted also of an army. the republic began showing small signs of agression, which were quickly stamped out as soon as his force entered Asion's borders. Alec continued to lead the country against Alexander, never attacking the republic, however many small settlements would request to join asino, and Alec would take them with open arms. Now Alexander takes the very existence of Alec Thorson as a personal insult. Alec knows of a price on his head and has already personally dispatched several bounty hunters. He now awaits Alexander's next move.
Thats it, my next update will be a bit of information about the 'city' that we've been talking so much about in this profile, and in the end of Marcus' profile. Asino
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