Open World of Crafted War

[Lakay'la]

“There’s too many of them! We have to fall back!”

“NO! Hold the line, we can do this! No surrender, no retreat!”

Lakay’la held a gleaming sword high above her head to accentuate the inspiration, the light of its metallic blade glittering in the hot sun. The blood of the tyrants she slew dried slowly upon it. There would be more blood before the day was through.

She lowered her weapon and cast a speculative gaze out over her troops, noting the expression mirrored upon every soldier’s face. These warriors would live or die on her command. The responsibility was her’s, yet the cause was necessary. She wasn’t certain she’d live to see the end of it- but that would almost be a mercy. She used the back of her armored sleeve to wipe sweat from her brow and forced herself to smile. Her warriors would not see her strength fail...for many of them depended on it.


A horrific explosion nearly threw the commander off her feet but by luck she managed to brace the worst of it against a crumbling stone wall. Some of her troops were not as fortunate. Lakay’la watched as many of the men she’d just looked into the eyes of were instantly disintegrated with no trace left of their bodies at all.


The enemy was ruthless. And they were here.


“Now is our time, my friends! We are the last hope of this world! Together, we will prevail! CHARGE!”

She led the last of her unit, storming past the ancient ruins with blades in their hands and righteousness in their hearts. The two forces left after the explosion collided together like a smith’s hammer upon an anvil and the violence of the confrontation seemed enough to split the entire planet in two. La’kayla found herself in lock-step with an enemy; a slightly overweight human that seemed to be sweating far more than he should be. As the two warriors circled one another, Lakay’la narrowed her eyes and clutched her blade with both hands.

“You’ll never succeed! I won’t let you or your evil forces advance any-”

Her enemy held up a hand with his thumb tucked in tightly and his palm facing Lakay’la, who sighed softly and tossed her sword into the dirt.


“Sorry!” The human choked out, his face turning slightly pale. “I gotta…ooooofff, I gotta go! Those Batuu Bits aren’t sitting well!”

Without another word, the world froze and a door opened upwards in the ruins themselves that the ill human quickly escaped through. For those still left on the battlefield, a deep male voice blared out from no discernable source.

“Welcome to Eternal studios! The game has been paused. New players are now being accepted. For those leaving, thank you for playing Warrior’s Wake and enjoy your time at Hologram Fun World! The session will resume shortly.”


As the message repeated itself in multiple languages, the Padawan began to stretch out the aches she’d gained while playing and twisted her torso left and right. Lakay'la had been using her free time to come here whenever she could afford it for years now and every single time she underestimated just how much of a toll the live-action hologram roleplay took until the game was stopped and she was reminded of just how much sweating she was doing. The Jedi training certainly made her stand out in combat, but the true fun of LAHRPing was in the connection it often brought to others also seeking to unwind in a somewhat unusual way.


As she always did during a paused session, Lakay’la looked around for someone real to talk to until the game resumed.

 

[Poet Severino]

It had been a long while since the Star Lady Vanhoop's decision to step down from her position and subsequently her and her family's death. Work had been chaotic after that, with the Star Guardians as a humanitarian organization's credibility and integrity being put under a sickening spotlight. Poet had ignored everything and worked everyday through gritted teeth - not because those times hurt but more so for self-restraint. There were countless moments where he almost gave in to the urge to snap at reporters, to tell Switter trolls to go kark themselves if they didn't have anything good to say or contribute. Lo and behold, the issues have long died down and here Poet Severino was, a champion and a saint through and through for being able to keep his temper in check.

He had been all work and no play for the past year, and today the half-Morellian decided that he should go out and treat himself. He had splurged on art supplies, tried a virtual game and two, accepted commissions, and asked the acting head of the Star Guardians for a week-long leave. He didn't ask for a paid one, either. Poet was more than grateful for his leave application to be accepted.

Poet had no set agenda for the day, he just... wandered. Took ol' Dream Walker out until he descended into a particularly busy space port, set out on busy streets - just let his mind wander and his feet carry him anywhere. Head in the clouds, he hadn't realized that he had wandered off into a gaming establishment ("Huh?"), bumped into a guy looking a bit green on the face ("Ate something bad?"), and was met by a uniformed staff who handed the half-Morellian some gear ("The hell?") and shoved him a little too cheerfully past the door and into a wide room.

"I haven't even paid yet, dumbass!" yelled Poet at the staff a little too late, the doors sliding shut. Disgruntled, the dark-haired male began equipping the gear he was given, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out where the hell he had just been dumped into. His brooding gaze settled upon some LAHRPers and a lightbulb lit up in the half-Morellian's head.

Okay. This is fine. This is more than fine. Not like I have things planned today.

@Roobi

 

[Lakay'la]

Though the expanse of the simulated environment was mostly reliant upon optical illusion, the room the hologram technology rendered within was still quite sizeable and could harbor a generously-sized force of nerds if need be. There were, however, only a handful of others unfrozen during the pause that wore the same over-exaggerated armor that marked them as real people. Every single one of their gazes whipped onto the newcomer immediately with the distinct expressions worn by a close-knit group of friends that now had a stranger in their midst. A pale Rodian broke off from the players and quickly closed the distance to the newcomer.


“Fresh meat! Fresh meat!” He chanted at the top of his lungs, waving the fake sword around with over-the-top enthusiasm. “Shape up, warrior! I challenge you to single combat!”


The Rodian’s mad charge towards the dark-haired stranger was thankfully thwarted halfway through by a “blade” catching his and turning it away. The one who held it grabbed the crazed alien by his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.

“Woah, Gish- woah! Easy there! Remember what happened to the last newbie? Here-” The calmer, more benevolent warrior who had stopped the Rodian reached down to a pouch at her belt and fished around its contents for a moment before retrieving a stick of candy obviously purchased from Hologram Fun World itself. She nodded at Gish as she handed it to him who sighed and nodded back before he turned away to focus on his newly acquired food. “Thanks, Commander.”


Lakay’la swiveled around to face the newcomer and lifted the helm off her head, her thin lekku falling from it like flowing hair. The smile on her sweat-stained face was fully revealed and she hoped that it was friendly enough to offset her fellow’s overly exuberant display so as to not send this person running for the hills.


“Hey, there! …Hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’re new to Eternal, aren’t you? You just have that look in your eye.” The half-Twi’lek took a few more steps closer. Her armor made a metallic rattle as she offered her hand to shake.

“I’m Lakay’la. Lemme guess…they didn’t tell you what this was, did they? Kinda just shoved you in here? Yeahh…same thing happened to me a few years ago. Most people who work here seem to hate their lives. Must be a grind.”

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Poet Severino]

The more he strapped his armor on, the more Poet became resigned to his fate – his assigned role, rather, given not just the armor's but also the huge sword's resemblance to that of the protagonist from his favorite graphic novel. At least the impromptu cosplay lessened the half-Morellian's annoyance somewhat. Propping the oversized sword to his side, the dark-haired male busied himself with adjusting the straps on his gauntlets with a mild look of irritation on his face. He was too preoccupied with his gear that he barely heard a voice that practically announced the Star Defender's arrival to the other LAHRPers.

Partially heterochromatic eyes fell upon an overenthusiastic Rodian, the latter approaching with an invitation for a challenge emphasized by his theatric sword-waving. Poet wouldn't have bothered with the niceties, would've accepted the challenge without a word by smacking the alien on the face with his helmet, but the timely intervention of yet another sword catching and pushing the Rodian's aside had the half-Morellian staying his hand. He watched the exchange with a light frown, secretly grateful for the interruption. Though he was more than ready to throw down and redirect his annoyance aimed at the staffer who had dragged him here, Poet was aware that taking out his anger on someone else would only tear at his conscience sooner rather than later.

When the armored woman turned to face him and took off her helmet, a ready smile on her face, Poet returned the greeting not with a smile of his own but with a more neutral expression, tipping his head in a curt but polite nod.

"Hey," he greeted back, fully expecting for her to ditch him after having 'rescued' him. The half-Morellian honestly would not mind; he would've chosen to keep to himself even after the game resumed but the Twi'lek seemed to have other plans, namely engaging the Star Defender in conversation.

He didn't mind, and the realization surprised him. Normally he would have already told her to mind her own business but it seemed that joining the Star Guardians had improved not just his tolerance for social interactions but also his people skills.

"I don't mind. You're right." His brows furrowed lightly at how clipped his tone remained. Poet briefly averted his gaze as he cleared his throat before focusing his attention on the woman. Trying to lighten the mood (his mood, rather; he didn't want to make her uncomfortable and make her feel as if he was being forced into this conversation), he added, "Not a dead eyed look, I hope."

The monotone delivery sounded as if he wasn't joking at all.

Poet heard a metallic rattle and looked down just in time to see the woman– Lakay'la offered her hand for a shake. He accepted her hand, his grip firm and with a tone of restraint – he didn't want to go crushing hands, after all. "Poet." He sighed softly, resigned, as she correctly guessed what had happened to him. "Yeah. I was just passing by, then some dumbass– pardon me, a staffer dumped this armor and sword on me then shoved me here like a bantha for slaughter."

He let go of her hand, the other strapping his helmet to his belt then curling around the handle of his own sword before lifting it and letting the blade rest on one shoulder.

"Wouldn't have minded if he asked first. But I'm here now, so might as well join in."

Poet glanced at the other players, taking note of their armor and fake weapons. Gaze finding Lakay'la's once more, he asked with growing interest, "You okay with giving me the gist of what's the game's main objective? I don't wanna just swing this thing," he patted the broadsword lightly "blindly or somethin'."

@Roobi