'cause tonight's the night

the world begins again

Oct 30th

In ancient story telling there was a common theme within the greatest lore. Heroes, or villains, returning from the maw of death or the retelling of an epic exodus. These characters who held great importance in the eyes of their people battled Grimm, armies, and their inner demons. One such hero was known as Jupiataro, Bastard of King Flariom. The story details the fall of Jupataro and company at the hands of an witch. After being exiled by his own father and then killed by the witch, Jupataro and company are sent to hell. The band of former heroes battle demons and Grimm for a week before finding a portal back home. In order to use such a gate, Jupataro willingly sacrificed his friends. It is not known what happens. Did he go to a lower hell for his actions or did he get his revenge?

Only one person may know this question; a modern reflection of Jupataro - Mitha'lo.

Just as the sun began to approach it's apex over the island of Vytal, a puff of black smoke trailed across the sky like a serpent. This smoke polluted the air in the sky and stained the otherwise picturesque autumn day. It was not a supernatural smoke nor a hoard of Khane attempting to attack the fortified island. As the smoke came closer to the island, eventually crossing the shore-threshold and soaring over the campus with time, the shape of an airship came into view. The Hunter transport was a standard model used for upperclassmen. Should someone have a keen pair of eyes, they'd detect a fire bursting from within the vehicle. Metal plating began to fall and splinter off as if the machine decided the island would be it's final resting place. The pieces fell to the earth below quickly and penetrated the dirt. Some pieces had burn marks while more were scared by talons and puncture holes.

As the airship began to plummet, it's pilot yanked at the failing yoke. Though the attempt was in vain, the natural projection would be a forest four miles away from the housing district.

Inside the burning, black chariot two men remained; the former total was five. As the original pilot sat beside the last remaining student, he cursed and cursed aloud as blood boiled against his skin. The fire which had started in the secondary thrusters advanced far quickly than his expectations. The smoke would have filled the cockpit if the pressurized windows hadn't been blown out. "You killed them...You killed your own team!" The pilot roared in grief and rage. His bomber jacket, once brown, was now covered in blood and ash. Holes and hanging fabric had done away the clean and majestic appearance of the uniform.

Beside him sat the lone survivor of a month long mission. Mitha'lo the secret member of the Rhagargoelion - the Cult of St. Ash. The student and cultist in one glared towards his bleeding passenger. His golden eyes were stained with dirt and blood. Yet his irritation with the professional airmen was clear through it all. "Can you shut your damn mouth. I didn't kill them...I just left them behind."

"To die, you monster!" The pilot reached over to claw and punch Mitha'lo however the student retaliated. A single punch to the head stunned the man.

"I am landing this damn bird! Now shut the hell up! If you wish to survive and not end up as a corpse than brace and silence yourself. We are about to cra-!" Mitha'lo was interrupted by the sudden thud of the airship. It's frame dropped and bounced along the forest. Moving tree after tree before dragging against the earth.

Moments later, a flare could be seen shooting up from the crash site.

made by nette of gs!