[MS] Ruins of Caer Thannith

[Karl Jak]

Visual Note =

(please note that this castle floats in a crater, so it’s still ground level for the purpose of not giving some innate advantage).


Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang looked at the map of landmass as he paced throughout his private quarters within Caer Thannith. Since his arrival in anchored city, he’d gone over much of the documentation and intelligence that Karl Jak had provided for him. It didn’t amount to much, as it was limited to the lands that fell under his initial control, but ‘Commander Mustang’ understood that this operation would be anything but by-the-numbers. A hostile army of monsters bordered them to the north, and the other army was under the leadership of another military man whose exploits apparently—if Karl Jak’s notes were to be believed—involved traveling to other dimensions and ‘ripping things apart with his bare, angry hands’.

The man glanced back at the map, noting the location of the unmade forces.

“I’ve beaten them once,” he whispered to no one but himself. “I’ll do it again,” he added with a faint smile as he set out of his private quarters to track down his general staff.

Army description: A blend of First World War-styling and steampunk, the Miniskirt Armada march into combat with a litany of weaponry, much of it looking both crude and futuristic in the same vein.

Hey, Please note: All PCs and NPCs of the Miniskirt Armada (MS) start here. Posting here is not required to travel out from the Castle.

 

[Roy Mustang]

The contestants arrayed themselves in a semicircular chamber of well chiseled stone and polished brass. This room could almost be considered a balcony, sitting on the very perimeter of the structure. The curved wall extending out of the castle in a series of open-air arches that allowed a firm breeze to blow through the room. A current of warm air sweeping up from the crater over which Caer Tannith floated. At another time, Mustang would have been fascinated to simply understand this city. The idea that Karl Jak considered such a place trivial enough to use for a game like this was difficult to accept. But he would have to accept it. There were more pressing issues at hand.

“Warriors and soldiers,” Mustang addressed the eclectic assembly, from behind a metal desk of polished brass. “We have a difficult task ahead of us.”

He reached out, a brief exertion as he twisted the wheel attached to the side of the desk. With a whirring of gears and the hissing of pressure, the desk began to vibrate and shake. What at first glance was a smooth sheet of metal began to rise and fall, puffs of steam escaping through the cracked surface. The table arrayed itself in shining stratifications, a map of the island clearly demarked by the layers of gleaming brass. Small shapes emerged, designating the fortifications scattered throughout the island.

“We face a two-fold threat.” Mustang spoke as the steam wisped away, “I have seen first-hand what kind of threat the Unmaking poses to all the Crossroads, and I will not stand to see it take victory here, contest or no. We will see that force brought low.” Mustang began to pace around the edge of the map, moving towards the far western end of the island.

“Yet we cannot assume that we will have allies in this task. You’ve spent some time here on the comet, I’m sure you have encountered and become well familiar with the kinds of insanity that these competitions will tend to accumulate. We must assume that the Hell divers will seek to press us as well, regardless of the greater threat we both face.”

He stopped at the front of the map, his back to the shining brass. Mustang’s gaze swept imperiously over the team he had been assigned. Azula and Gilgamesh, the royalty, both sneered at him from opposite edges of the group. They would likely be trouble, but they also knew how to lead. The arcanist Elise seemed similarly unsociable, though she was clearly paying close attention as well. Hardened warriors like Conner, Violet, and Stheno, listening attentively. They understood how important it would be to glimpse the large picture once communication lines broke and the blood haze set in.

Others did not. His eyes turned to the less organized portion of the room. Mirage, the bounty hunter Deadpool, Nico Cinder and the pale horned being known as Gamzee clustered together, likely without even realizing they were doing so. All were clearly veterans to their share of battles, several of them from contests just like this. Hell, Deadpool had even technically won the previous year, if you looked at it a certain way. Yet they lounged at ease about the chamber, listening with half an ear at best, whispering snide comments that they likely thought were more important.

Still others were more difficult to place. The small cat-like warrior Ki listened, or at least gazed at him with slitted feline eyes as Mustang spoke. The dog-eared girl Lupus, the young mage Izaneus, and the mild scientist Dr. Swift stood quietly as well, though they seemed more uncomfortable with the situation than anything else. Lastly, the ever-silent tri-colored mascot of Syntech’s dreams, the inscrutable Pepsiman stood at parade rest to one side of the room. Mustang decided to pretend that one didn’t exist.

“All of you have chosen to engage in this war." His hand swept across them in a wave, then held up before him in a clenched fist. "You all have a desire, a cause that you hold so deeply in your soul that you would stake your very life to achieve it. Now you have been given just such a chance! I want you to show me your resolve! Prove to me before this conflict ends that you have what it takes to make your goals reality. You have chosen this conflict, so make it yours and claim the victory you profess to seek!”

He paused briefly, meeting the gaze of as many of them as he could, then he settled into a confident smile.

“Now, let’s get down to the details…”

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

War. War....

Well, this was... Interesting... He'd heard it before, he'd heard at the facility that this event wasn't one to joke about. But the weight of the situation, simply from seeing the others on his team, hit him harder than any spell could.

Faint magic energies crackled around his hand quietly, before calming into elegant strings, swirling gently. Before crackling like electricity once more. This cycle continued, mimicing Iza's own feelings of minor anxiety.

With a large, deep breath he did his best to calm himself. He understood what was expected of him, and he would do his best. With no small amount of nervous energy, and a good amount of determination. He would offer his best support wherever he was needed.

 

[Jak]

I watched outside the plain helicopter, catching occasional whiffs of gasoline and hearing the blades of the mighty machine outside. Next to me stood my old ally, perhaps my only ally against whatever the hell laid between me and going back to the war against Skynet.

The smell of gas I secretly didn’t miss after years of this shit year after year of going through this at home or whatever the hell was left of the buildings called home.

The machine stopped and both of us were waved outside toward what looked like an out-of-the-ordinary military base, something I wasn’t used to. But it was my and the terminator’s home for who knows how long for now.

The terminator was already off and walking ahead, scoping out possible threats and enemies on the team.

I stepped back, eying my weapons for a second before following suit and getting off the helicopter before it took off for the next person.

Adjusting my flight jacket and the armor underneath, I sighed and masked my emotions, making my way toward one possible castle. Inside the oddly designed structure, stood my wouldbe Commanding officer, a man cloaked in all blue militarism garb having white gloves.

The terminator had already stood in the crowd, eying the plans before I got there. Typical. I was always the last to know.

I made my way in slowly, trying to blend in between the mix of strangers, both human and non-human. I waited until Roy had finished his speech and, having a rock-hard face, I walked up to Commander Roy and saluted him as a fellow soldier would.

Not very often I would get that chance back home as the men above me were hardasses. “Lt.Connor, sir.”

Here I don’t even know if the timelines would change. But even that would be pressing my luck.

 

[Mirage]

The whirring hum of the dropship slowly faded at the sharp hiss of the airlock cracked open the let in a sliver of light. Grunts echoed in Mirage’s mind as he attempted to block the sun’s gaze with his arm stretched in front of him.

“Soldier! Are you slow in the head? Get over here and-”

One of the captains peered into the hold as Mirage stepped out stretching and squinting at the castle before him.

“Wait, you’re no soldier? Don’t tell me they shot us up a civilian with the normal riffraf.”

“Oh, no worries. I’m way better, twice as much because uh, y’know? Anyways, I’m Mirage, the guy that was champion in those crazy games they had last year.” The legend dusted himself off as the captain looked him over. Mirage had dressed in adventurer-like gear, decorated in red and brown over his tan outfit. He wore tight goggles on his forehead, similar to ones you might use in a dusty desert. His hair, including his facial hair, was slicked and groomed, with a ponytail that included a white stripe through it.

“I don’t remember you participating in last year’s event.”

“No, not this one. It was the other crazy one. That Karl Jak guy was there!”

The captain didn’t seem convinced.

“It was the Crana- Carsa- Carnivale Rosa! Yeah, that’s the one. Man my memory isn’t what it used to be, where am I again?”

Some gears clicked for the captain. “Ah, I see. I happened to tune in towards the end of that one. I feel like you looked quite different than you do now. I assume you know that you signed up for a War on Dante’s Comet?” The captain cocked an eyebrow at the trickster.

“Oh yeah, magic crown and everything, I do make a pretty handsome princess though, don’t I? Or pretty princess? Anyways, I guess I didn’t really read the fine print. But I’m a great squad leader, just ask Wraith or Bloodhound. Actually, are they here too?”

“You’re going to have to take that up to the Commander. Let’s go ahead and get you where you need to be.” The captain motioned to a few soldiers, giving Mirage an escort into Caer Thannith.

Mirage could hardly stay near his escorts, doubly so with his decoy joining him with his sightseeing. “Woah, didn’t even notice that we’re floating! The castle, I mean. Is that normal?” The soldiers simply ignored him as they ushered him past several doors into the main halls. Up ahead, Mirage could make out a young man in a blue uniform being addressed by other official looking military.

“Commander Roy, we found this one with the soldiers, not a part of the run of the mill, seems like the competitor type.”

“I see. Who are you, and what experience do you have,” Roy asked, unsure of who it was that seemed to be joining the Armada.

“Mirage, or Elliot if you are asking about my actual name. Champion of the Carnivale Rosa, and as good with a gun as I am good lookin’!”

The commander narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Can you lead men?”

“Lead like how?”

“Can you lead a troop of men in battle?”

“Y-yeah, sure. I don’t usually have more than a small squad, but, yeah. Don’t you worry, I can lead whoever you need wherever you gotta go. I’m a great squad leader, oh, and jumpmaster, if we get to jump in and all that,” Mirage seemed to trail off as Roy thought about his answer.

The legend’s rambling was enough to give him a quick sense of who this character was. A buffoon for sure, but it seemed that if he truly was the champion of such an event, then he should prove his use at some point or another. Perhaps he would entrust him underneath one of the other, more promising applicants for leading the armies.

“Well, we will be giving a debriefing later on today, report to the main hall and we will start shortly.”

“Gotcha!” The trickster gave a wink before trotting down the hall.

In all honesty, Mirage felt a bit unnerved, he really should have read the fine print.

War.

Just thinking about the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. No matter what, he promised his mom that he wouldn’t end up like his brothers. It was the whole reason why he was in the games, the fame, the show, all of it. And where was Wraith? He did ask if she was in the event, but as he arrived at the main hall, he saw no sign of her. She couldn’t be gone, could she? Maybe she was on the other team? But that would mean, well, it wouldn’t be the first time they were in different squads. At least he didn’t have to deal with Crypto. Still, there was a certain uneasiness in the whole situation that shook him and his decoys down to their core.

C’mon Renee, stay alive, and I will too...

***

“Unmaking schmaking, we’re the best team out of the bunch, of course we are gonna win, you guys have the champion with you, after all.” The trickster duplicated himself, his clone framing his face with his fingers before pulling out a camera. Deadpool popped up just in between them as the light flashed, making a peace sign as he posed with his side.

“There you go, get the real champion in the shot. Listen buddy, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but as the guy with the figurative,” he paused, before somehow pulling a large belt buckle with “DA Champion” out of his… pants? “And quite literally, Dante’s Abyss Champion Original Premium Belt of the Solar System. I believe I have you outdone.”

“Alright, you got some moves, but I still got the looks.” Mirage pulled out and flipped his trophy, nearly dropping it in the process.

“Well, it’s always the looks isn’t it?" Deadpool seemed to fake some tears, hurt by the legend's words. "If I could be anything other than a super mutated ballsack with crazy katana skills, I might consider it for a moment. But you can’t blame me for looking good in red!”

Gamzee simply stared at the two as they spoke, turning slowly from one to another before turning to Nico beside him.

“Hey brother, are you getting any of what these guys are saying?”

“Mostly just a couple dudes who can’t pull their head out of their ass, and I’m stuck with a clown who looks like he ate a whole bag of gummy edibles before signing up for a two-front war for company.”

“That sounds freaky fresh, brother.”

“Yeah, if that's what you want to call it.”

Roy continued to give a speech to the group, designating different roles and asking questions based on the skills they possessed. It seemed that Mirage was going to be working underneath the General himself, along with Deadpool and a few others.

Mirage began to swagger a bit as the group formed before-

“No, you don’t get to make any jokes about being the Champion squad, dead joke Mirage! You’ve used it like seven times today! It’s war time!”

The legend simply scratched the back of his head and gave a nervous chuckle. “What, is that bad? I thought it was great?”

 

[Elise]

Elise lingered for a moment in Roy's office, as the gathered mercenaries, warriors and dregs dispersed. There would be some time, she suspected, before they were all mobilized. It was mobilized, wasn't it? The military term for being told where to go? She didn't care. To be frank, Elise didn't care much at all about this entire competition. Her singular goal was to make sure that the strange, pale man containing the psychic ghost survived the ordeal. The halls outside of the command office were awash with a flurry of activity, barked orders and clattering battle gear.

A wizard had no need for such bustling. She had, of course, deigned to adorn the same battle armor and blue jacket with trousers the rest of the command staff had been given. After all, it was a handsome aesthetic, and she would have hated to disrupt the visual continuity here. The beret, bedazzled collar, and black turtleneck stayed, of course. She also managed to find a pair of artillerists goggles around the quartermaster's office, and let them dangle around her neck. They also had extremely expensive looking leather courier bags, and you KNOW she grabbed one of those. Perfect.

When some busy-body had approached her with an assigned gun, however, her response had been a firm 'hell no'. Any wizard worth their elemental salts wouldn't be caught dead with such a thing. Or undead, for that matter. She chased the eager gopher off with a flash of her teeth. Most of the other people in the room didn't really look like anything interesting. Brightly colored and heavily armed, sure, but who wasn't around here? There was one individual, however, that piqued her interest.

"Hey. Magic fingers." Elise called out to Izaneus. She clapped a cold hand on his shoulder and whirled the scrawny thing around to face her. The two locked eyes for a brief moment - her burning, vampiric red against his innocent, watery blue. God she could just put her fangs in his neck. Just do it. Nope. Not gonna.

Unless...?

"I know an Arkadian Academy graduate when I see one. Really threw yourself into the deep end, eh kiddo?" she said with all the sweetness of a viper. The boy was nervous; she could feel his pulse through the loose, blue command jacket. Fuck.

Elise pulled away slightly and pulled a fresh, blank paged tome out of the messenger bag. It was a simple, soft-covered affair with cheap paper and a black cover, but it would serve its purpose for scribing little arcane nothings and Ephemeris data.

"You should check out the supply room, really. All the great stuff is there. We should compare notes. I'm Elise." she babbled, gesturing at the name on her glittering collar. She blinked softly, which vampires did not do very often. The boy was just staring at her.

"Dude?" she asked softly, raising an eyebrow.

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

It didn't take long for Iza himself to knock himself out of the stupor placed upon him. Something about her eyes... Mesmerized him, and despite being out of his own... Visual hypnosis. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Ah... Pardon me... It's, a pleasure. I must be more discombobulated than I thought..." He quickly explained... Oddly more nervous than he was a moment ago.

"Yes, i did graduate at the academy, and I would love to compare notes! ...hm?"

With a small humm of curiosity coursed through him, he leaned forward, inspecting her face... And quickly finding telltale symptoms of vampirism...

"...The supply room is it? Would you like to accompany me? We could devise a battle strategy for ourselves... Or something of the like at least... I'm a bit parched" He offered, subtley implying under a layer of... A LOT of nervousness, a quick drink...

His heart rate quickened, this was all still very strange to him... And a little nerve wracking...

 

[Elise]

Elise blinked for the second time in one day. Oh, he was one of those. Gross.

"Yeah tryna catch me in the closet alone. Fresh! Rude boys can stay thirsty." Elise said, swiping a snapped finger in front of Izaneus's face. She stormed away from him with a swish of her coattails. "Little wizard man think he got the magic. Basic!" she followed up as she stomped out of the door from the command center. She could feel Izaneus's stare of soft bewilderment follow her down the scenic brass and marble hallway. Those types of people gave her the creeps - mostly because she too had been tempted by the vampire's bite once upon a time. They were better off dreaming.

Long beams of daylight filtered through the giant gallery windows, and she strode through them with mild, dizzy thrill. It had been a long time since she had bathed in the warmth of daylight, and she had forgotten the kind of beauty the sun could bring. Ghostly ladders of light filtered through ambient clouds of steam. She could see the edge of the crater beyond the floating castle's brilliantly green bailey, where small yew trees frolicked in the caldera updraft. Elise hadn't expected the collar to suppress her daylight weakness...but given that it was tied into her regeneration, she supposed it made sense.

That didn't make the Thirst any easier to deal with. She felt hollow, thin...and part of her was tempted to march right back up to the feeble wizard boy and rip into his soft, supple neck. God, the thought made her teeth itch. Imagine his screams, followed by the soft whimperings of resignation as the hot lifeblood splashed across-

Elise steadied herself against the wall, and took a breath. She had it bad today, and she was coming to the realization that there had been a miscalculation of timing. The Thirst would have to be satisfied before they got into a proper battle. The question, however, is who in this stupid faction would be willing to let her drink from them without being a creep...but also without snitching on her. A sudden, sharp voice dragged her back to the moment.

"You. Short woman. My army assembles, and Pretender Mustang has ordered you into my service. Come along, or perish like a dog."

Elise smiled to herself and stood straight, looking into the similarly red eyes of Gilgamesh. Of all the people to ignore the dress code of the Miniskirt Armada, King Gilgamesh was the most brazen. The King of Uruk stood tall in his gleaming golden armor and battle regalia. Well...Elise chuckled to herself...at least he did have the skirt. Providence didn't even begin to describe Elise's smug elation as she fell in line behind the Golden Boy. She had been sucking on the neglected underbelly of his beloved city for months - now the King himself was within arms reach. The temptation to stunt upon this noble fool was too tempting.

Maybe there would be some fun to be had in this stupid game after all.

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

Wait... What? What had? Who? Huh?

Iza stood there for a moment. Then two.. Then a minute.. Then three...

Ah. He said. Quickly discovering the issue here.

He was mistaken as a pervert.

The shame that seared through his body was unimaginable. And he had no greater desire than to leap in the line of fire. He was not "Thirsty." As she so bluntly called it. And he felt the depression follow the shame shortly thereafter. He stood there. Silently. Shamefully.

This. This hurt a bit. The misconception he hoped he would be able to clear. He knew he almost never would be able to. Due to them being in different squads. Plus... He didn't feel like it was a good idea to just...

Chase after her... Lest he reaffirm her suspicions. "Well... I'm sorry." He said to no one in particular. But still, the words made the slew of negative emotions a bit easier to deal with. Still... Ouch.

...He knew he was deploying soon. And assumed he should head to his squad. Wheever they may be... He hoped the battle woyld take his mind off things

 

[Nico Cinder]

Alexei had a very convincing way of being convincing, and it definitely didn't involve threatening eternal torment. When his bartender first floated the idea of entering Dante's Abyss again this year, Nico was promptly put in the mood to tell him to go fuck himself. This is the kind of thing that ambiguous supernatural entities frown upon, however, and it was quickly made apparent that it was this hell, or that hell. So, once again, entirely under prepared, Nico Cinder finds himself participating in things. Again.

The hiss of steam and gears clanking into gears clanking into more gears was oddly comforting to the rockstar errant. Their combined orchestra, oddly enough, reminded him of the clicking whirs and buzz of tattoo guns. Having worked in a small, rural tattoo parlour, Nico knew poor decisions when he saw them and he's certainly made more than a few himself. This signing up for a war business, though? There was definitely a special place in hell for anyone that considers this entertainment. Nico would know. He'd seen it. That being said, he simply could not wait to get started. Again.

The debriefing went by like a blur. Nico tried to pay attention, no reeeaaally, he did. Didn't have anything against the good commandant 'Stang or his place as leader in this game, and the speech at the end was at least a solid 7 out of 10. He was just having a hard time getting all razzed up about the military life. Structure, chain of command and the like was simply not his cup of G-Fuel. The chaos, the music of a good fight though, there lies the appeal to all this. That, and the promise of a longer leash back Multerraside.

He kept his head down and his hood up through the clockwork hallways. Part of his assigned uniform was this snazzy dark hide bomber jacket. It was lined with some sort of material that he couldn't quite place, but whatever it was kept him feeling light and thick at the same time. Nico lived for that shit, and he especially lived for this goofy fucking kilt they were making him wear. Red and black plaid swished to and fro as he wound his way down a staircase of no particular note. The freedom he was feeling around his lower limbs was something to be envied, and he couldn't recall the last time he was able to admire all the ink spilled on his legs. The boy wasn't sure if he'd ever go back to jeans at this point.

His squad was to leave soon. He needed to find guns. Would it kill someone to hang some signs around here?

 

[Karl Jak]

In what must be some sort of bad batch of food, a rash of dysentery has started to spread through Caer Thannith. About fifty members of the Castle garrison have gotten really sick, and ten are dead. The quartermaster of the castle has ordered the food stores to be burned and for fresh water to be acquired from nearby rivers.

 

[Karl Jak]

Thirty five members of the garrison have died from complications of dysentery.

In what the quartermaster can only assume is a freak accident, a fire broke out in the basement of the castle in the storage rooms. Fifteen garrison members were killed and thirty were injured before the fire could be extinguished.

Morale of the Castle garrison has dropped about 20%.

 

[Karl Jak]

In the dead of night, many members of the castle staff were wrenched out a deep slumber by the sound of a tower collapsing.

Unfortunately for 85 members of the staff, their living quarters were located just beneath said collapsing tower. Debris will be cleared through the day but it is unlikely that there will be any survivors.

 

[Karl Jak]

“What the fuck is going on around here?” The quartermaster screamed as he stormed around his office. Seated across the table, his junior officer sat in a wooden chair and waited for his boss to stop fuming.

“People are beginning to whisper,” the seated officer replied.

“And you verified everyone in the castle with the staffing rolls?”

The junior officer nodded his head.

“Then where the fuck did those charbroiled corpses come from?”

A shrug was the initial response. “Perhaps botched saboteurs? You can’t tell me the last few days have been normal, Sir. Spies probably burned themselves alive trying to place more explosives.”

“And you verified that they were human corpses?”

The junior officer once again could only offer an uncertain shrug. “We don’t really have a forensics department around here, Sir, so we’re just going off the fact that the intact ones have at least pieces of four limbs and skulls.”

The quartermaster finally sagged down into his chair. “This situation is a fucking mess. Can you let it be known that we’re instituting a curfew? No one out of their quarters after sundown.”

“Of course, Sir,” the junior officer replied. “Am I dismissed?”

“Yes, you may leave.”

After a salute, the junior quartermaster stood up and left the office. Once his back was turned to his superior, the man flashed a sneer to no one in particular as he returned to his assignments throughout the castle.

60 additional bodies—in advanced states of charbroiling and with any distinguishing features lost to hours of burn damage—were discovered in a timber storage room in another section of the castle. Castle rolls were checked, but it doesn’t seem like they were castle staff???

 

[Karl Jak]

There has been another outbreak of food poisoning in Caer Thannith.

45 members of the castle militia have died due to complications.

 

[Karl Jak]

The quartermaster sat in his room.

Bedlam.

People pounded at his door. They screamed for his blood. Over the last twenty-four hours, plague had spread throughout the castle, and they blamed him. They said this was all his fault!

The quartermaster pulled out his pistol, jammed it into his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

74 people have died from plague within the walls of Caer Thannith. The quartermaster also committed suicide in the face of some many horrible and uncontrollable 'curses' that have fallen upon the castle.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Sabotage!​

The emergency meeting was held in what had once been a cafeteria back when the castle had been functioning properly. Now, the large room was only further proof that those individuals garrisoned at the castle were doomed.

“We know that there is danger among us!” The former junior quartermaster decreed as he looked out into the crowd. Now that he was the actual quartermaster, everyone was looking at him for orders, and he was all too happy to oblige. “Yet we owe it to our Commander to not abandon our posts.”

“Then what should we do?” Someone barked.

The new quartermaster scowled. “I want the main barracks to be abandoned, and we survivors will move into the allotment of personal military quarters on the second floor of the castle,” that comment elicited a few tilted heads as the intrigue of not having to bunk together in that drafty barracks. “We will alternate a night watch, who will lock doors and patrol the castle at night for signs of treason. Windows will be barred, and we will alternate this crew. Everyone will have the chance to show their loyalty to their fellow soldiers.”

“That’s it?” Someone else asked. “My buddy Steve died of the damn plague, Man!”

The quartermaster lashed out. “I’m not a fucking miracle worker, and I’m not a craven fool like the guy who ate a pistol. Accept the plan or get the fuck out of this castle.”

With that little alpha dog display, the remaining crew quieted down, and the surviving staff of the castle relocated their sleeping rooms to the lavish quarters in the guest wing of Caer Thannith. The new quartermaster carefully assigned rooms, and when night fell, the doors were locked, and the first patrol crew set out to scour the castle for signs of treachery.

When the screams broke out from behind the padlocked rooms, the patrol crews hastily made their way to the list of rooms provided to them and slaughtered the non-unmade individuals who had barely just been woken up by the madness.

It was all over within an hour.

In the dead of night, a member of that crew made his way to the quartermaster, who sat on the throne.

“It’s done?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Everyone is dead or will soon be enlightened, as you ordered.”

The quartermaster grinned as he reached up and peeled away what was revealed to be a mask. Underneath that faux visage, the quartermaster was somehow even more handsome, as he took a moment to adjust his head of brown hair. Removing his contacts to reveal irises tinged with flecks of crimson that glowed in the poorly illuminated throne room, the unmade lieutenant grinned.

“Then move on to the next task.”

The spy saluted. “Yes, Lieutenant UnJak, Sir!”

And with that, the soldier left Karl UnJak to grin on the throne of the Miniskirt Armada for a few hours longer.

20 Unmade Carnaval Spies have been destroyed.

The remainder of the Castle militia has been killed, with nearly forty being captured alive.

Caer Thannith has fallen to Karl UnJak of the Unmade Carnaval and has been (will be) destroyed. To claim victory in Conquest, the Armada will have to destroy the to other two Castles, alongside the other ‘winning’ criteria.

The Unmade Carnaval unlock the achievement ‘Castle Crusher’, which grants its Commander the ability to deploy 1000 Combat Soldiers at either the Ruins of Caer Thannith or the Crimson Tower.

The Hell Divers unlock the achievement ‘It wasn’t us this time’, which grants its Commander the ability to deploy 500 Combat Soldiers at Adrien’s Pen.

Miniskirt Armada Morale is capped at 66% (this news might take a day or two to reach out to the units 'further in the field' though)

 

[Karl Jak]

Dr. Swift frowned as he stood at the edge of the debris-filled crater.

"I can't believe this has happened," the chemist spoke softly as he spied a letter impaled into the earth with a dagger. Crouching down, the lieutenant retrieved the letter, folded it open, and read the words underneath his breath. "Who just leaves their castle unguarded? So sad. Should probably just kill yourselves ... Smooches, KuJ."

The chemist crumpled the paper up and tossed it into the debris pit as his scowled deepened.

Just a day too late ...