- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Multiple posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Sci-fi, modern, horror, a bit of dark romance stories.
Sometime in Tamriel's future...
Cyrodiil. The capital province of three human empires in Tamriel, and home to the Imperial peoples. In the current time of our heroic group, they search for the murderers of Emperor Uriel Septim VII, and travel across the land to find them. Yet, Sometime in Tamriel's future...
The world is hollow. Its lands, once filled with color, now desolate. The trees are dying. The animals gone. The cities crumbling to pieces. And the massive green fields now jagged mountains from the earth cracking apart. The planet was dying. And in the sky, beyond the clouds, the sun was going out.
A massive dyson sphere. It's construction was nearing completion, and Magnus' energy was being sucked away into connected power nodes.
And surrounding the planet itself were a dozen massive, floating stations on different parts of the globe.
These things were what caused the planets crust to shift and turn, and soon, they would destroy the world. Those who remained on this planet were the unfortunate. Survivors of a great purge. Invaders they could not comprehend, taking away thousands of children by force, and kill whoever was in their way. They could not stop them. Their weapons too advanced, the world of Nirn too divided by years o conflict, of returning threats and civil wars. No nation, when they invaded, had the means to defend against them for more than a few months. Nothing was left to oppose them.
The only thing left to do was to wait and die. Either by the machines hunting the remaining scattered, or for the planet to finally be destroyed by whatever these floating towers were doing to it. Yet, hope wasn't gone just yet. Someone would arrive on Nirn's dystopian future. Someone who came in a flash of blue light. He crashed down a hill, holding his arm as close to his body as he could, before landing in what used to be a lake. It was but a puddle of mud and gunk. Aside from some scrapes and bruises, he was fine. He was a soldier, dressed in WW2 French soldier uniform, holding a Thompson machine gun, and carrying a backpack of spare ammo and supplies. Yet, on his hand was something strange. When he stood up, he inspected it, ensuring it was still functioning. Thankfully, it was.
Now, all he needed to do was find someone to help him. "Hello?" He shouted out, speaking in a thick French accent.
Cyrodiil. The capital province of three human empires in Tamriel, and home to the Imperial peoples. In the current time of our heroic group, they search for the murderers of Emperor Uriel Septim VII, and travel across the land to find them. Yet, Sometime in Tamriel's future...
The world is hollow. Its lands, once filled with color, now desolate. The trees are dying. The animals gone. The cities crumbling to pieces. And the massive green fields now jagged mountains from the earth cracking apart. The planet was dying. And in the sky, beyond the clouds, the sun was going out.
A massive dyson sphere. It's construction was nearing completion, and Magnus' energy was being sucked away into connected power nodes.
And surrounding the planet itself were a dozen massive, floating stations on different parts of the globe.
These things were what caused the planets crust to shift and turn, and soon, they would destroy the world. Those who remained on this planet were the unfortunate. Survivors of a great purge. Invaders they could not comprehend, taking away thousands of children by force, and kill whoever was in their way. They could not stop them. Their weapons too advanced, the world of Nirn too divided by years o conflict, of returning threats and civil wars. No nation, when they invaded, had the means to defend against them for more than a few months. Nothing was left to oppose them.
The only thing left to do was to wait and die. Either by the machines hunting the remaining scattered, or for the planet to finally be destroyed by whatever these floating towers were doing to it. Yet, hope wasn't gone just yet. Someone would arrive on Nirn's dystopian future. Someone who came in a flash of blue light. He crashed down a hill, holding his arm as close to his body as he could, before landing in what used to be a lake. It was but a puddle of mud and gunk. Aside from some scrapes and bruises, he was fine. He was a soldier, dressed in WW2 French soldier uniform, holding a Thompson machine gun, and carrying a backpack of spare ammo and supplies. Yet, on his hand was something strange. When he stood up, he inspected it, ensuring it was still functioning. Thankfully, it was.
Now, all he needed to do was find someone to help him. "Hello?" He shouted out, speaking in a thick French accent.
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