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      Vote for Valucre [January]   01/01/2017

      Voting for the month of January is open on TopRPSites! Vote for Valucre daily and help new members searching for a place to roleplay discover the same joys you have in Valucre. You can vote daily, so make voting for Valucre a habit. Discussion thread

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  1. Elendaron's Skyport was, like all Skyports, noticably busy. Even in the torrential downpour that blotted the skies and earth alike. Inside, however, the passengers and travelers were cozy, dry, and most importantly, headed elsewhere. People of all kinds milled about here, in garb ranging from the bright, fashionable colors of the Alterion sectors, to the polished steel of Genesarian heroes. Men and women from Terrenus dined in peace, chatting about this and that while just outside of the food court, a small troupe of vagabonds asked for change from passerby. Here and there, the distinctive khaki-colored uniforms of the Skyport wandered to and fro, either on break or en route to their respective positions. One distinctly colored figure didn't move at all, however. A pretty young woman with sharp facial features, dazzling blue eyes and a head of neatly trimmed blonde hair waited idly in one place. Pinned to her navy-blue uniform was a simple tag that read simply 'Cid', and next to that was a well-polished badge, labeling her as a Game and Fishing Officer. Next to Cid stood an easel, sporting only a small whiteboard with the phrase "Kaantus Contract" on the front. At the moment, Cid watched the crowds passively, a small smile on her face as she patiently awaited her company. This wasn't her first time in this scenario, after all, and she quietly pondered just who would be arriving to help her in this latest, and possibly fatal, hunt.
  2. "Yes, yes, I know the details, I wrote that report myself..... yes, you're dismissed, kindly bugger off..... ahem!" Renin cleared his throat and straightened up, towering over the dwarven scribe who scampered away with scroll in hand upon his permission. Tazarek's High Scout was also its only non-dwarven citizen of any note. As an elf of the forest, he might have been expected to adjust very poorly to a life surrounded by stone deep inside a mountain, and in his younger years that would likely have been a fair expectation. But four centuries of life truly did wonders for one's sense of perspective. Renin could barely even remember the forests he grew up in, much less long for them. No, he embraced his new home. In Tazarek, he lived and worked among the people that he served, and they in turn recognized his contribution. He was integrated into society, and that society gave him purpose. The exact opposite of the oppressive, detached Terren military bureaucracy. Here, all was as it should be. "I have no idea who any of you are, so introductions will be in order. I'll start. My name is Renin Coriander, High Scout of Tazarek. You can refer me to as Highness, or just sir, or even 'elf' if you like. So long as you understand that I am in command and you are to follow my orders, or else face termination of your contracts and exile from the mountain. You've been contracted to assist me in this mission because Tazarek is currently expending its forces elsewhere, yet this problem is pressing and demands immediate action. The mission is simple in its objective, but will be fluid and complex in execution, as many variables will be unknown until we are in the field. We will be delving into the heart of the mountain to assassinate the leader of a hostile tribe of lizardkin, crippling them and ripening them for extermination. Any questions? Didn't think so. "Now, your turn. Each of you should state your name, race, reason for signing this contract, the skills that you bring to the table, and hmm..... favorite flavor of ale, since there's no time to actually drink together and do the usual bonding routine. Maybe after, if you lot don't turn out to be worthless." @SilentMusician@Autholius@Metty@christians168
  3. --- Catherine awoke to the familiar pounding of a serious head injury. It was not the first she had suffered, nor would it be the last. She was not one to fear the loss of intellect or memory from such incidents, and she knew that her thick skull afforded her much protection from such effects regardless. No, it was two other things that concerned her. One, something had hit her hard enough to knock her out, no small feat. Two, she had been transported into unfamiliar surroundings during the time it took her to recover. Catherine found herself in a dank, iron-barred cell of some musty-smelling dungeon. Looking to her left and her right, she saw rows of cages just like hers lined up as far as the eye could see in both directions, each one containing people who looked more like corpses than living things. Men, women, elves, humans, and occasionally things besides..... all manner of sentient life was held here, most of them chained to the stone walls at the backs of their cages, laden with festering sores and half-closed blood wounds. Where was she? What was this place? "Ah, you are awake." A man approached her cell, appearing out of the shadows themselves in a way that thoroughly confused her senses as to how such a thing was possible. Magic, no doubt. Catherine's face instinctively twisted into a sneer--which the man matched with a wry smile. He was tall and imposing, nearly as tall as she. And she was eight feet tall. His figure was not quite as large and broad, but he was clearly grown past a human's natural size by some force or another, the same way that Catherine was. His clothes were jet-black embroidered with gold and encrusted with jewels, his cloak a sweeping crimson affair with a fur collar that contrasted with his dark beard and hair. His skin was paler than her own, which said something, yet no veins were visible beneath it--as though no blood pumped through him. Most striking were his eyes and teeth. The former were a pure red, resembling pools of blood which sent a shiver even up the spine of a warrior such as she. The latter featured long, curved fangs which jutted slightly out over his lips, sharp as knives. Catherine knew immediately. This man had the appearance of a count or other aristocracy, but he was a vampire, a thing of the night. A foul demon. No doubt he meant to make her his prey. Well, he would soon be disappointed. The warrior rose up from the floor, stopping short when she found that her head hit the top of her cage before she could stand up properly. Still, she glared defiantly back at him. For some reason, she had been left in her armor and unrestrained. If he dared to open the door to this cage, she would-- "--tear me limb from limb, would you? Do you not recall your realization only a few moments ago, that I was able to strike you upon your skull so hard that you passed out from the trauma? Tell me, Catherine of Crossgate. Do you truly think you could match me in a physical contest?" For a moment, she said nothing, caught off guard by his knowledge of her mind. "Out of my head, demon-spawn! I will crush you with these very hands should you lend me the opportunity, yes--absolutely! Come on! Open this door--no more cowardice, foul thing!" The vampire lord shrugged. "Very well." With a flick of his wrist, the door to the cage creaked open. Catherine exploded out of it, ramming into the vampire with her pauldron and bowling her over. She immediately fell atop him and pinned his arms down with her knees, bringing her enormous weight to bear as a restraint against him, then began to pound on his face with fists nearly the size of his head, each strike bringing the spray of blood and the crunch of broken bones. She didn't stop until nothing but a mess of skull fragments and bloody pulp was left spreading slowly across the floor around them, at which point she leaned back and exhaled, then closed her eyes and breathed in a deep breath, trying to calm her dancing nerves. It was at that point that she heard the man's voice again. "Such ferocity. This is why I chose you, Catherine of Crossgate. I am not disappointed." Looking back down at her victim in shock, she found that his skull had already re-assembled itself, and the soft tissues were in the process of repairing themselves. In only a few seconds more, the vampire's head was fully restored, his face pristine as though it had never been struck at all. Catherine drew her fist back to remedy this situation, but his eyes flashed with a dark light, and she found herself paralyzed, arm halted in mid-air as the connection between her brain and her muscles was completely severed. The vampire leaned up and casually pushed her over, like tipping a rigid statue that has been disconnected from its base. He slowly got to his feet and brushed his shoulders off, then snapped his fingers, and the spell on Catherine's mind was broken. She immediately leapt to her feet and resumed her attempt to pummel him, but this time he did not allow her to proceed. The vampire caught her fist in his hand and clamped down on it, hard--so hard that Catherine could not free it. She pushed and pulled, struggled and shook her arm in protest, but could do nothing as the vampire's fingers slowly applied more and more pressure, bending the metal of her gauntlet and eventually causing the fingers beneath to give way in protest. Only when her hand had been fractured not once, not twice, but three times did he relent, and yet Catherine did not relent. Though one hand was ruined, she brought the other immediately to bear, attempting to grab hold of the vampire's cloak once more. This he applied, but when she tried to move him, he proved to be as immovable as a great mountain. For a few moments she grunted and groaned as she pulled at him with all her strength, yet he budged not an inch. Finally growing tired of the charade, he brought an open palm up and struck Catherine in the forehead with it, the blow carrying such force that she was shot back into the bars of her cage, which immediately bent so far that they nearly broke under the strain. An audible crack could be heard as her skull fractured right down the middle of her forehead, and a small stream of blood began to slowly leak out from the wound, running into her eyes and mouth. She wiggled incoherently in an attempt to maintain her dignity, but this accomplished nothing, the warrior finding that she was unable even to regain her footing, much less continue to fight back against her captor. The vampire leaned over her now, still smiling the same wry smile, fangs bared more widely than ever before. Catherine tried to stop him as he leaned in close and embraced her around her torso, but no strength remained in her limbs. It was all she could to remain conscious. "You are nothing before me, Catherine of Crossgate. Consider. Will you be my supper tonight..... or will you cast off your self-imposed limitations, and take a seat in my court?" he whispered into her ear. "I will..... never......" "Never what?" he cut her off. "See the light of day again?" The vampire pushed himself off of her and took several steps back. "That you will not, if you reject the gift that I offer. Thrive..... or suffer. The choice is yours. I offer it only once. Reject me now, and you are prey, to be consumed at my leisure. Accept, and I will show you what you are truly capable of." A long silence, during which Catherine's eyes fluttered as she fought to stay conscious. Finally, just before she lost that battle, she managed to croak out a response. "Yes..... I accept....." The last thing she felt before she passed out were the piercing of fangs into her neck. --- OOC: Your character may start this thread in several different ways. Perhaps they have been chosen and captured by the family as Catherine has--or perhaps they have sought out the family on their own initiative. Or anything in between! I encourage creativity! Feel free to write for the vampires yourselves! I give a week for your intro posts, then I will establish a posting order and begin moving ahead. Welcome to Clan Valkohyr! @Paradise@Misty@CodieneAngel@Purifier@Gilgamesh@FirePenguinDiscoPanda
  4. open

    You're a normal high school student(No super powers or anything)make friends get a date.Don't forget drama lots of drama jump right into this fun adventure threw high school. Have a great time *Whopsika Vanishes*
  5. Open

    [offtopic]This thread is to help members dip a toe in the waters of Valucre. Only Mentors and members that have been registered for 90 days or less can post here. For those of you participating, you can find the OOC here.   The Tavern of Legend is a jumping off point for our new members, especially for those who are unfamiliar/new to online role-playing. The limitation of 90 days is designed to give a time period for new members to become acclimated, while giving them a gentle nudge towards role-playing in the rest of the forum, such as in the canon lands or in the alternative section. We strongly encourage participating in Tavern quests and activities as a starting point, but then start up trying out Tavern offered quests that occur in the canon lands, as well as checking out the water cooler. Here is a resource to assist you as you go forward.[/offtopic] They say the road to the tavern was once a nondescript journey, traveling through nothingness until you happened upon a quiet little hamlet out in the middle of nowhere. Farmers would wave, children following a short distance behind, curious as to your origins and intent. Only, things have changed now. You travel through lands scarred by fires and death, through an atmosphere of despair laden with only the slightest traces of hope. Burned down buildings are as common a sight as are the rats and vultures still searching for morsels. At this time, people still bury their dead- and there is many, while others hurry to get back within the cover of what remains of their home.   Eventually, your journey leads you down a dimly lit path, finding that night has come upon you faster than you first expected. You come to a location said to be the corner of all existence, the point between the world of Valucre and all other possibilities. There sits a quaint structure, small and unassuming. It is only one story, hardly more than a shack, and certainly nothing like what was promised by those claiming to have once stayed within its walls. The paint is peeling, the sign is careworn and faded. Perhaps you feel cheated, having come all this way just to find some hole in the wall that gives only a welcome home to drunks too far into their cups to notice the difference. Still, there is an inviting smell coming from inside, a welcome change from the smell of death you left behind. Perhaps you should enter then, and stay for a drink or two. Even if this tavern is not what was promised,  a drink and a hot meal would do you some good.   But alas, the Tavern is all that is promised, and more.   t reaches high, higher than you could have even imagined, the ceiling reaching hundreds of feet above. Layers upon layers of rafters fill in the gaps, where some patrons sit, served by a young man who traverses them with ease. Down below, the sprawling layout reveals a tavern with more than a dozen corners (each with its own table), despite the improbability. At the center of establishment is a large stage, where bands of bards play and leave- their lineup and styles as random as anything could be. Along what could be called the back, a long bar stretches out, ending at a doorway leading to the kitchens. Also in the back are stairs leading up to an upstairs that cannot be seen from here, and a door that leads down to the storage basement.   [legend="Important- Read Before Posting"] The Tavern of Legend is an RP forum that is quasi-canon; nothing here is canonized as ‘world of Valucre’ lore, but it keeps track of its own lore. What you do here can be referred to later on in other RP adventures within the world of Valucre, and the quests you complete for the Tavern that take place in canon lands certainly can be canonized as well. The intentions behind the tavern is to allow for our new members to get comfortable with Valucre canon and lore before setting out, and to have an opportunity to role-play with approved mentoring staff. At this time, the “staffing” has not been as hands on as it was previously (we got busy =/) but in time, we hope to make this a more regular part of the experience. While you are here, you can take on RP quests with less rigorous requirements than that which is typically found through the canon boards, get some help with learning T1, work on increasing the length of your posts (we have a 120 word minimum in canon boards) and get into the swing of how we do things on Valucre. This is also a place to meet up with other new people who might feel shy and want someone to make friends with early on. This board will be watched regularly, to ensure that people are in fact leaving posts that have content- we do not ask for much (just 20 words!), but we want worded posts (no emoticons) and no OOC stuff- that goes in the OOC section. Posts that fail to meet this requirement will be removed and the points gained from them taken as well. Repeated infractions will lead to you losing access to the thread itself. For help with finding ways to add content to posts, check out the “Closing Thoughts” section of this Valucre Blog Update, written by yours truly. If you still need help, feel free to contact me, Supernal, or a member of outreach for help.[/legend] [legend=Staff]The staff is varied. Some are transient, coming and going within a few days, and others are permanent fixtures of the tavern's setting. Some are from the world of Valucre, and others are wanderers from further off. The only constants in this ever-shifting tapestry are the core staff members who manage the tavern itself, each serving their own special function. The Cook: Ghallen Berwater – Gaian Priest A former Gaian priest who has retired from the cloth to take up his second greatest passion: food! This cook comes in and prepares everything for the staff to dole out to the patrons; just when he comes in to handle his business is hard to pin down, as time has no meaning in the Tavern of Legend. Ghallen supervises kitchen operations, gladly takes any compliments to the chef direct, and is liable to give tours of his facilities to the curious passerby, speaking of Terrenus and the Gaian religion, as well as information pertaining to how new travelers might find adventures, quests and local lore all the while. Description: After the last event, he’s been a little worn out and less like himself from before. Don’t get us wrong, he still loves to cook food, but he just isn’t keeping himself as clean cut as before. That, and he finally aged some, his hair taking on some grey. He grew out a beard too, which many have told him looks rather good, actually. The Bartender: Vaddok Fantore – Former Aeliyr Merchant A business man who never tires of trying to sell you another drink or some fine plate of food. Vaddok is a devoutly religious man full of information not only of Muhir but of Tellus Mater as a whole. He loves to talk, and will craft you any drink while spinning yarns about legends pertaining to Valucre. He knows much about key players and other great lore. He'll also maintains access to the room with the way-gates, which will transport you to any land in Valucre. He’s not quite been his old self though, seeing as how he lost some long time patrons and friends in the most recent attack. Description: Average build and height, with dark brown hair and green eyes. Has a cowlick on the back of his head that stands up rather prominently, but it does not detract from his otherwise handsome features. He has no armor or weapons, but like the rest of the core staff, seems immune to damage. The Bouncer: Lonely Night's Hand – Former Edgemaster and Arcantian A stern and quiet man, he will not put up with garbage from anyone. He stands at a distance from anyone, and avoids eye contact, unless making a statement of great import. His real name is unknown to everyone from these parts, and most just call him‘'Night'. As a former Edgemaster and a manipulator of darkness, his powers are great and his skills with short swords deadly. They say picking a fight with him is a willing act of suicide. Rather, a better interaction with the likes of him would be to ask about Genesaris, his homeland. However, if you really itch for a fight, he will spar with you in a sparring room, which simulates any environment. Those who get to rowdy are instantly tossed out- a bubble of darkness forms around the troublemaker, and suddenly, they are back outside in the night, barred from reentry. Description: Taller than average, with a large build and piercing gaze. He does his best to maintain respectful distances from people, but that can be difficult in a crowded tavern. His hair is dark blond and worn very long, braided down past his buttocks. The edges of silver tinge the sides of his head. His left arm has intricate rune carvings that look like they were quite painful. He wears brigandine armor and sports two short swords. Head of Waitstaff: Levhea Morytol – Former Iselyrian adventurer A former adventurer from Iselyr seeking some stability in her older years, Levhea is a middle aged woman who runs things tight and has no patience for any sort of shenanigans or tomfoolery. Although her exterior is cool (almost cold), speaking with her reveals a fun and caring personality, happy to regale you with tales of her homeland. As a well-seasoned traveler, she has much to tell you about different creatures roaming Valucre, as well as how to get more involved in community ties. She's also known to step in and assist Night with some of the rowdy patrons, handling them like a mother would a naughty child. Description: Fiery red hair with a bit of grey, she is a well-built woman who could embarrass many large men in an arm wrestling contest. She still wears splintmail armor much of the time, and has a great sword big enough to cleave a giant's head off in one clean stroke.[/legend] [legend=Attractions]Main Area: Has tables to sit on, rafters to spy from, a bar to have casual social interactions near, and a stage for bands. People come together to socialize and mingle, speak with staff and get a general feel for things. Bar: Back of the main floor you can find the bar itself. Sparring Room: A room off the left most wing is a spacious environment that simulates any land within Valucre, where people can practice their fighting skills in safety and without repercussions. They may practice with other patrons, or get Night the Bouncer to come spar with them. Way Gates: The Way Gates are able to send you anywhere in Valucre. The trip is one way, and the only way back is with a 90 day card that each leaving member is given just once- new travelers are welcome to come back and get some more practice before reentry. However, after 90 days, their card expires and they are encouraged to leave, and unable to come back. Kitchens: Off the back of the bar are the kitchens, where you can speak directly with the cook. On the other side of the bar is the office where you will often find the head of waitstaff, if she is not out on the floors herself. Bathroom: A neat row of clean outhouse facilities are in the lot out back of the tavern. A bit beyond that is a building about a quarter of the size of the tavern itself, and houses three large bathing tubs.   Memorial: Opposite the bulletin board where quests are posted is a wall dedicated to those who died during the attack of the undead army. Among them are the faces of many regular customers as well as some from the village, and couple of the wait staff as well. A middle aged man named Clarence is there, as well as a young woman with caramel colored skin, dark hair and violet eyes- her name was Suffia. Also of note is a picture and entry for a fire elemental, who was described as “once an enemy, then a pest, and finally, a friend”. Occasionally, others come by to pay their respects.[/legend] [legend=Reoccurring Wait Staff] Young Attractive Barmaid: Early 20’s, Green eyes and chestnut hair, with a noticeably large bust. Her name is Gwen. Young exhausted Barmaid: Just out of her teens, always looks worn out and haggard. Smaller frame on top, but generous hips below. Her name is Beatrice. Young scrawny barmaid: New on the job, looks nervous and eager to please. Often speaks in a rehearsed manner, quite rapidly. Tiny, but looks healthy otherwise. Average looking. Her name is Clair. Young man with dark skin and bare feet: The Rafters server, as nimble and acrobatic as an ape in the jungles, he was hired for his abilities to assist those patrons with difficult logistical seating placements. His name is Tova. Man in his mid-twenties, blond, frequently scruffy. Rather friendly, a bit boisterous at times. He gets along well with anyone, and is known for flirting with the prettier customers who don’t come in with obvious attachment. His name is Fjorn (pronounced Fee-orn). One vacancy. Polite, middle aged man: Dark hair, normal build, a hint of silver at the temples. Polite and efficient. Named Clarence. (Died during last event)  Young woman, late teens or early twenties. Caramel colored skin, dark hair, light violet eyes. Silky voice, foreign accent. Died during last event. [/legend] May be subject to updates.
  6. It was dark at night in the wilds. It was pitch black, hard to see anything in the dark. The woods were thick with trees, fauna and wildlife. A draconian could be seen killing some hunters in a hunters camp, before putting out their fire and continuing, trudging through the forest late at night. "Pfft, what a waste of life..." Of course the draconian had business with something in particular. She had heard of a guard camp nearby. She hated the Terran government alot. She hated what kind of rules they had. Of course, she had killed tons of innocents in her anger and hatred torwards humans and the government. She wasn't surprised if someone wasn't going to hunt her down. After all this was the beginning. (First RP thread of mine, yay.)
  7. Alright, here's the start of the roleplay.
  8. - Ok, here seems a good place for you - Tsidia heard a voice in the void. - Wait a second, YOU? Aren't you coming with me? - I have unfinished business. I'll be watching. -(sigh) fine She said as she appeared in front of a rather modern looking place. Hopefully no one seen her. Looking around, she quickly found a sign reading "LaPlace Square". At a glance she could tell, that it's a place for adventurers. Trying to draw as little attention as young dragon could she found herself in a tavern. "I hope that they're friendly" "I hope they accept payment in silver". There was so much she "hoped for" and so little she "expected". For now, she just wanted sit down and have a drink. Judging by her monetary state, she wouldn't reject anyone offering quests.
  9. << Aesir OCs welcome. Please ask prior to picking up any member of the royal family, or having your OC be related to them. There is no thread-wide post order, but please allow everyone your character is interacting with a chance to respond prior to replying. >> Hel's appearance upon Asgard was all they needed to know Ragnarok's time had come. Even before her skeletal foot set upon the shimmering Rainbow Bridge, a chill crept forth through the royal city, seeping into the souls of every creature who made Asgard their home. Heimdall would for the first and only time leave his post to escort the young goddess to the palace, fearful glances and hushed voices trailing past them. Already, Odin Allfather had gathered the others in his Great Hall, grave and uncertain looks draped upon the visages of every last family member. The silence held, none of them willing to break it for fear doing so would move them closer to their doom. All of them had of course known Ragnarok would happen. They'd simply expected to have more... time, perhaps. A full evening of impassioned monologues and furious arguing later, they'd at last settled upon their battle plan, but even the children knew they were far from being at ease with it all. How could they, with all that Ragnarok foretold? If the legends were to be believed, some of them weren't to survive the week. Most of them. Lady Sigyn proposed it, and then Queen Frigga demanded it: as much darkness as there was over the horizon, the Aesir could always find a reason to celebrate, and that held no less true now than at any other time. Was it not a rare blessing to have the whole family gathered at once? Such an occasion was one to be met with feasting, dancing, merriment... That they approached the dawn of war only made it more important that this time be cherished. And cherished it would be. With hardly a day remaining before they descended upon Midgard, garlands were strung, tables were set, and musicians were summoned. For a single evening, the grand ballroom would open its doors to all of Asgard's citizens, that they might meet, greet, and celebrate the expansive royal family - its latest additions included. After all, there was no telling which of them would be left to rule Asgard in the aftermath of Ragnarok. ⸞The Guest List⸟ Odin Allfather - Ella-Marie Stark Frigga - [unclaimed] Thor - [unclaimed] Loki - Kio Lady Sif - [unclaimed] Lady Sigyn - Dragonslover Enchantress Amora - Dragonslover Slejpner Svadilfarison - Kio Fenrir Lokison - Dragonslover Hel Lokidottir - Fruitsnacks Narfi Lokison - Dragonslover Vali Lokison - Dragonslover Ella-Marie Stark - Ella-Marie Stark Crystal Armick - Fruitsnacks Brandon Armick - Fruitsnacks Eldi - Kio
  10. Name: Tsidia Alias: awoken Age: 25 Gender: female Sexuality: bisexual Personality: I like freedom. I make friends easily and trust them expecting equal. I'm painfully honest, and don't tolerate lies. I'm playful and get bored quickly. I don't mind sudden temperature drops like jumping into cold water. I never take anything except others of my kind seriously. I always go with the flow. I never take the easy way out, and like to look for alternative solutions. I highly prefer direct mind contact exchanging thoughts and feelings over casual voice-like speaking, but I understand if it makes you feel uncomfortable. I try to avoid using force, but I won't hesitate to fight back if anyone dares to attack me. Interests: - Water - Flying - Psychology - Open space - Wind - Meeting others (friendly people included) - Sleeping in different places and positions. - High speed - Group hunting Dislikes: - Wasting time - Dishonesty - Losing motion - Dull conversations Fears: - death - prolonged isolation - claustrophobia Height: About 1.75 size of an average human Scales:]light purple scales dominate the body getting darker around the neck and claws. The darker scales connect, creating patterns. Eyes: Light purple. Get darker when feeling hard, and dark blue when communicating directly exchanging thoughts. Appearance: Quite small for a dragon. Light purple scales and very thin wings. I have a streaky horn at the back of my head facing opposite to the face. Scale patterns and a long tail. I'm left-handed, and there's a bright mark at my left hand. I have sharp predacious claws that I always keep perfectly clean and razor sharp. You can usually see a smile on my face. Tribe: SkyWing Inheritance: SkyWing crossed with NightWing Rank: Magic mentor looking for students. Family: Unknown Hatchlings: N/A Skills and Abilities Strengths: -quick -Easily adapts to new situations and areas (minds of another creatures included) -hybrid between physical and mental attacks -quickly learns and adapts to the enemy.[/b] Special Abilities: Mind-blowing gas: fires up dense gas at the enemy. Puts everyone in it's radius into a half-conscious state of mind which opens loopholes increasing the chance of bypassing mental barriers. Betrayal: back stab that can only be used from the back and only when target does not expect it. Illusion: Makes an illusion of yourself which can be controlled. However when the target doubts the existence of it, it disappears. Only one clone can be present at the time. Combo breaker: Attempt to break enemy combo attack. Low success rate. Bleed out: A passive finisher. Landing a successful hit makes the enemy bleed causing them to loss blood taking damage over time. The longer the duration the more dangerous it gets. Very effective against water element and nearly useless against earth element. Wind combo: Can only be used while target is crowd controlled (stuns, knock-ups etc). Series of wind-based attacks each aiming different body part. This move uses up a lot of energy Wind stance:Unable to move or attack while in stance. Preparing for enemy attack in attempt to counter attack, stunning the enemy. Requires high focus, so losing it breaks the stance.[/b] [b]Weaknesses: Fragile. Both physically and mentally. While able to dodge most of the projectiles just a few precise blows can take me down.[/b] [b]Combat Style:Before being spotted and recognised hides in the back tricking the opponent with illusions while constantly trying to gather information about them, trying to understand their way of thinking, predicting their movements and lowering their mental resistances until they can be exploited. At close range tries only to counter-attack retreating to safe distance when it's possible. After being exposed closes the information gathering stage, uses gained knowledge, and usualy suprises the enemy with aggresive attacks[/b] Background: History: Explained in rp [b]RP Sample: It was a beautiful day. Sun was shining, wind was howling, sky was clear. The air was fresh and it smelled so. We were casualy walking through the forest when a dark shadow fell upon us. Nothing in range could be it's source so it couldn't be „just a tree”. Something is wrong here. - What's that? [/b] /sorry for my poor English, I've written this a long time ago. Please let me know if this does not fit
  11. From the balcony of the inn, a tall woman looked out over the tranquil townscape of Dougton. Nieve did not wear her armor. It was the early evening, and there was no danger afoot--a rare circumstance for the High Priestess, but one that allowed her to be seen without the golden plates that so often defined her appearance. Her gown still covered her from head to toe, its long sleeves even extending out over her hands. She had no need for her fingers this night, as her loyal companion would tend to her every need. The soft silk hid the ritual ink that had been injected with careful precision into intricate pattern over nearly all of her body, marking her as one of the gods' own--only her face was spared, and the ends of the lines could be seen snaking up her neck from within the gown's collar, as if grasping to claim even that last vestige of her individuality in the name of the deities she served. Nieve looked to the side, already knowing that he was there. "Have you found them, Martin?" Nieve's second wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin upon one slender shoulder to look out over Dougton himself. Though he knew she did not need such comforting, Martin felt compelled to provide it nonetheless. It had been hours since he had even set eyes upon his mistress, and by now he missed her sorely, like the alcoholic who has gone for too long without a drink. "Yes, m'lady. There are many within this city suitable to the task. All that remains is to discover those who are willing--then we shall root out the evil that dwells here, and the gods will be appeased once more." The High Priestess nuzzled her face briefly against his and closed her eyes, seeming to take comfort in his presence and offer comfort in turn, in a way that not quite mother nor quite lover, but perhaps included traces of both. She felt his anxiety, and as their minds briefly joined she calmed it, replacing it with the serenity and steadiness bestowed upon the faithful. When Martin opened his eyes again, they were more relaxed, refreshed by the tranquility of his mistress. He released her and took out a small pouch from his suit, pouring a line of fine, white powder from the cloth container onto his gloved index finger. Martin held the line of sparkling powder up to Nieve's face and she leaned forward to accept it, covering one nostril and consuming the powder with a mighty inhale that snapped her back up straight and threw her head towards the ceiling, clearing every last speck of the substance from Martin's finger. He wiped the glittering traces of it from her upper lip as her pupils dilated in reaction to the fresh infusion of dust. Now that they were both suitably refreshed, the pair could get to their business. An unnatural presence lurked in Dougton, and it was their task to pull it out by the roots. Each of the candidates Martin had identified would find a note left for them, perhaps slipped into their pockets, perhaps left in their rooms while they were away, delivered to them in one fashion or another. The message was the same to all--if they had interest in serving the common good and earning the respect of the people, not to mention a material reward, they would meet in the lobby of this inn tomorrow at this same time, at sunset when the orange rays were just beginning to fade beneath the horizon. There Nieve would address those who had answered the call, and take stock of how this endeavor would proceed. Their foe here was deeply entrenched and secretive, using the people's own minds against them; drawing out its evil would be no small task...... --- Ivas nearly jumped for joy when he read the note. After he and Llewena went their separate ways, he had felt lost, almost in a state of despair--Ivas had faced all kinds of challenges before, but always ones that he could see and fight. The mystery of what happened to his family was something totally new to him. When he came back to Dougton, they were just...... gone. The land where their farm had been was wild and empty, like no one had ever been there, overgrown with an untamed meadow. Anyone he asked said that they never heard of a "Gainworth" family. It was so baffling that it made him question for a bit whether he really did have a family here, if he wasn't just going crazy. Llewena had reassured him that no, he wasn't crazy, especially when they found his sister in the orphanage, so now he knew that they were real and they were missing. But he didn't know where to turn next. It never occurred to him to question who this note was from or the possibility that it the person who sent it had ill intentions. No, Ivas was just happy that someone was finally going to help him. He marched into the inn with a broad smile on his face, masking the anxiety that he felt over the whole thing. No one would have guessed that this young man was trying hard not to break down, keeping the creeping fears of what he would find shoved down out of sight as best he could. He looked around, unsure of what to expect, and took at seat on one of the sofas spread through the lobby. There were other people in here, sure, but none seemed to recognize him or react to his presence. How was he supposed to know he was in the right place? Ivas was just starting to wonder if he hadn't been tricked or taken for a ride somehow when he looked towards the stairs in the middle of the room, seeing a tall, slender woman descending them in a manner so smooth it seemed as though she were floating. Even without comparing their heights up close, he could tell that she was taller than he by a fair bit! The woman's bright green eyes locked with Ivas's own and he froze up for a moment, a weird shiver running through his body like he had passed out for a split second. The woman's eyes were glazed over, unfocused, yet when they met with his he could swear that she saw through him to his very core, easily stripping away whatever facades he put up to hide his true feelings. Unsure of what to say or do, he simply stared at her slack-jawed as she approached and stood before the sofa he was sitting on, looking down at him and smiling serenely, like she was genuinely happy to see him before she even knew who he was. "Welcome, Ivas Gainworth. I am called Nieve Olene. Together, we will restore Dougton to a state of peace and well-being," she said. Holy crap! She did know who he was! Ivas sputtered a bit, struggling to form a response, before finally managing to make some actual words. "U-uh, th-thank you! Ma'am!" he said, feeling supremely stupid as his face began to turn red. She reached out and tapped his forehead with one of her slender fingers, causing him to wince as if he had been struck--but there was no effect from the touch, only Ivas's expectation of one. He continued to stare as she made her way away from him and turned her gaze elsewhere in the lobby, like there were others that she was looking for. He had been staring dumbly for a few seconds when all of a second someone's fingers were snapping in front of his face, pulling him rudely out of his stupor. "Hey! It isn't polite to stare at a lady's rear end, kid! Get it together!" Martin yelled at him, leaning down and scolding him like he was a misbehaving child. "Wh-what? I wasn't--I wasn't looking at--I wasn't looking at that!" Ivas insisted, his face somehow turning even more red as he began to feel exactly like the misbehaving child that this strange man was treating him as. Of course, as soon as Martin told him not to look at that, Ivas decided to do so, out of sheer curiosity if nothing else. When the woman approached and touched him he felt like she was a motherly figure of sorts, but upon second thought, how much older was she than he really, if any at all? Just because she was tall didn't mean she was old. And the contours of her gown suggested that her rear end was very shapely indeed..... "Hey! What did I just say!" Martin shouted, this time lightly smacking Ivas to get his mind back where it belonged. "Agh! Sorry! I didn't mean it!" the boy insisted. Meanwhile, Nieve would make her way throughout the lobby to each person who had been summoned here by Martin, gliding past each of them and briefly addressing them by name before touching her finger to their foreheads. When she touched them, they would gain a cursory knowledge of all the others who had been assembled here--basic information such as names, general personality types, strengths, weaknesses, abilities, racial background, and so on. Any information of this type which they did not wish to share, would indeed be hidden from the others. Nieve was establishing a group consciousness between all of those who would act as her instruments in the coming days, but her linking of souls was always voluntary, no matter what. If someone wished not to have anything about them known, it would be hidden. But whatever they were comfortable revealing to their allies, they would feel immediately as her finger met their minds. It would be a strange sensation for the people involved, but when it was complete, they would be able to interact like they had already spent weeks together, with no need for introductions and other formalities. On an emotional level, this was highly efficient, allowing for an effective group to be forged in a fraction of the time that it normally took for teammates to bond. Once the joining was complete, Nieve would proceed to the next stage.
  12. As his infrastructure had increased in efficiency after it's establishment, The King---Proteus Rauz. King of Taurus, rising power within the lands of Alterion had began establishing a network of his own. A network that had become increasingly efficient at picking information from the other networks that existed around it. Greater networks with wider spans and more prolific ranges that held places for his own to nestle comfortably in between while he pilfered from them what precious gems of information, data and the like he could. Knowledge was an instrumental aspect of any great up rise. Intel provided means, and showcased weaknesses that would otherwise go unnoticed by one who didn't possess it. So he had been spending his days in front of a monitor simply reading and learning, and when he felt as if he knew enough, he'd have left Arcadia's sector 5 and made his way to this city and found it to be nothing short of a Hot-bed for the "Rebellion". In every land and region had it's groups in power. High powered influences that reigned supreme over the civilians that made up the current population. If it wasn't gods, it was ideals. If it wasn't ideals it was power. They all garnered great gatherings and followings and nobody understood this more then BULL himself. Being a BEING of power, and King. His lands knew not of religion. They knew not of ideals, they knew of BULL---Proteus Rauz, and his POWER. So they followed him. With unwavering faith and absolute devotion to his ideals. Hence why here and now, as their king seeks to expand their kingdom to lands afar---They follow. BULL Stood out here. A titan. A hood pulled over his head to cast his visage into an obsidian veil, while the rest of the cloak was expansive enough to drape even his massive 12' form in an ebony veil of obscurity. It didn't surprise him any that he didn't lure in looks and gawks. It served his purpose. He didn't make any impressions that he didn't want put out prematurely. He had spent times in taverns and strongholds and currently, in an alleyway with one of the more loud mouthed patrons of his last place of interest pressed against a wall, at his eye level, being throttled for information. "My patience is wearing thin with you....I overheard you speaking of "The Rebellion", now all of a sudden you're at a loss of words, You'll be at a loss of life if you don't get to talking again..." His vice around this mans neck tightened. This time to near lethal levels of constriction where his throat was in line to be crushed and his spine in no better position considering. The man tapped furiously at the massive arm and the King released him to fall to the ground and gasp for air. BULL awaited the hacking and gagging to subside, and was indeed provided the information he had sought. The entire ordeal took several minutes, and the King was an intent listener and grateful for this mans willingness to talk. "I swear to you that's all I know! I just want to go home!" ---Not until the King had his say. "You tell them im coming. You tell them im not the masons, but Im FOR their cause. You tell them im far more meticulous. Far more able. Far better equipped to bring them to an END....You tell the rebellion That King Proteus Rauz claims Iztal as his, and there is no Room for ANY who's nature is to Rebel.." And with that the man skittered off and away.
  13. open

    —Cross —Monster Hunt —Class V: The Assimilator ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ In an bay on the far outskirts of the base near where a road and guard posts lay, moved Vortian and Lucille. They had twenty men with them, all trained veterans of the VFi program and each of them knew what glory this mission held as well as what horrible perils were lurking. They were after one beast in particular, but only the Creator knew what exactly lay beyond these fences and into the wilderness of the Mag'Nus Forest. Beasts roamed freely since the fall of the once-great corporation, thanks to its genetic experiments. Nothing was more feared than the legend of a beast thrice the height of a man and able to devour him in a single bite. A swing of a tendril could forcefully cleave a man in two with purely blunt-force trauma. A challenge for honor they were willing to accept. Vortian was milling about the isles, looking through the gear as though he would find something that he desperately needed, but in reality, found nothing. They would be moving in armored convoys and would radio and beacon back once their kill was had, however they were not against collecting Alterna, pelts, and other collectibles for selling along the way. After all, the Valorous Market* was still in the works of being created. Who: the Brave What: Monster Hunt, Class V + several others along the way. When: 48 hour post limits, no posting order. Late, get skipped, whatev'. Combat: T1—Story There's going to be a lot of shit thrown your way. Up to 6 enemies at a time, every time I post... so. Ha. Gay ol'e time...
  14. Rydsa. The soil felt odd under the half breed's feet. The dirt would be marred but at the same time not as fast. Rydsa had cut its ties with the princess and she didn't like that. It was food and slaves the land took from her. The airship ride here was wonderful. No one bothered her for they were turned by the ore. Still eating and getting fat that she managed to even land the airship. Rin was a monster. And she shown it time and time again but barely anyone could fight her. They always became a part of the madness. Part of the ore. Manah however knew the half breed was coming and so she came to Rydsa to fight her. She would round up fighters to face the girl and try to seal her once more. It would be hit or miss.
  15. An aperture opened and with it's arrival, excited winds and a brilliance of light had. The warmth kissed at the pines that dwelled at the base of his mountain kingdom, and not to long after the sound of crunching snow beneath his boot heels could be heard as the Titan emerged from the portal opening. His appearance had changed. Rugged, older. An excessively full beard had grown around a once bare face, hiding those chiseled facial features. The once pristine and excessive lengths of cloak draped around his shoulders had became tattered and ragged. His appearance had long degraded from the intimidating visage of Royalty into that of some outlaw, drifter. Long fallen is he from the regal domain of royalty, in abundance now was the appearance of struggle, trials and tribulations. It had been so long since he had been here. Long forgotten was the scent of these pines in his nostrils. The bitter cold against his skin, hardly felt, but the sensation was there all the same. The feeling of winds over his head, no longer bald but now bearing long flowing obsidian locks of hair. The smells. Wildlife and cold. The sounds...wind, swaying tree's and rolling snow. The sensations here, magic and Anima, his body having long saturated itself of wild and abundant slate and Celestial energies, drinks in the more localized aspects, particularly that of the mage storms here. He looked up, eyes tracing the the mountain upward into the heavens beyond the clouds. Up there, was everything that he had parted ways with,if only for a moment to center himself...and he'd begin the slow trek into the forest dwelling toward the path leading upward..
  16. xxxxx Welcome to a Brawlers Bar & Inn While exploring the city of Oakwood, you find yourself in the Port district among a chaotic array of businesses; from bars to restaurants, shops to corner stands, brothels to underground markets. Something about a particular establishment, however, entices you to take a closer look. It is the red light that first draws you to it's doors. You're eyes fall on a sign crafted from dark cherrywood, though you are surprised to see there are no words on this door. So where are you? Your only clue is the beautifully painted black cherry in it's center. Nestled among the chaos, the red light above it's simple sign illuminates the building to allow for a closer look. Decored with red tinted windows and crimson trimming, The Black Cherry stands out in Oakwood as a unique establishment, one with the dark beauty of a thorned rose. Upon entering, you find yourself in a bar lit by candles and tinted with lights of crimson and gold. Hookah and incense smoke linger in the air. Comfortably cushioned barstools are displayed along with scattered Hookahs patrons may smoke at their leisure, though some choose to bring their own poison. Near the bar is a lounge furnished with large couches, trimmed in lace and maintaining the dark red and black theme that seems prominent throughout the Cherry. A pool table, dart board and grand piano are found in the lounge, and there is also a fireplace which is steadily kept burning, heating the area and creating a warm atmosphere. The bar itself runs along the back wall directly across from the main entrance. atop the bar patrons will find ash trays scattered for public use, bowls of complimentary cherries, and scented candles. Behind the bar, and all along the Tavern, are flat screen TV's hooked up to cameras that watch what happens in the Pit. Details can be found below. Up the stairs you will find rooms, and for a small fee they may be rented nightly. Every room is decorated with bouquets of red and black roses, restocked regularly. You can choose a single or double, and room service is available just as it is in a hotel, at an additional cost of course. The place, however, is a paradox. Despite it's soft and alluring glow, the Cherry's patrons are generally a deadly bunch. It has become known as a brawlers bar, not at all a place for the faint of heart. Fights are frequent and encouraged and there are no bouncers, only a resident healer who reserves her talents for near-death situations exclusively. The Hot Springs: Branching off of the lounge, through the back of the Cherry is a hallway that leads down underground, about as deep as it's Pit, but removed from it; it is not part of the basement. Upon entering it appears this is a very well kept cave of some sort. Stalactites reach down from the ceiling, as beautifully foreboding as the rest of the place. Candles burn endlessly by some unspoken and unquestioned magic, and bubbling pools of florescent blue offer their steamy, welcoming embrace. These are the indoor hot springs. There are 6 pools total, three large and three small, offering the option of privacy for those who seek it. The larger pools can service 8-10 patrons at once; the underground caves span the entirety of the property which the Cherry sits on and are almost larger than the establishment itself. With plenty of room to unwind, the hot springs are a hit with battered fighters looking to soak after a good fight. Some who visit the Black Cherry experience a very sudden and strange sense of awareness when they pass through her doors. They tend to describe it as familiarity, as if they've visited this tavern in dream or another life. Perhaps you've been here before?
  17. When Kalmuli had returned to Predator's Keep after running errands in another town miles away...the Keep was a smoldering heap of wood and dead bodies. The sweet smell of cooked flesh wafted under her nose and the place smelled of iron and copper everywhere. Walking her Spellcycle into the Keep, she felt a deep, twisting sensation in her gullet that writhed. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this way but she never used to feel so attached to one location. To one people except for home. Maybe it was the twisting, uncomfortable sense of nationalism from having made P.K. her home? Her clients...her just smoldering pieces of wood and bone. Kalmuli walked past slumped over bodies, moaning injured and the crumbling structures of places that had been home and businesses alike. She didn't have to read the threads of fate to see the signs of a pillage. An absolute reckoning. They left behind very little for the people and it was clear from the kicked in doors of some places, they were searching for something. Kalmuli shut her eyes, letting the situation sink in and letting her mind travel back in time, watching everything. It wasn't until she felt something wrap around her legs that she snapped out of her trance and saw her apprentice, Pound Cake, wrapped around her legs shaking. When she noticed Kalmuli staring, uncaring to the child's shivering. Kalmuli moved her hand, patting the child's head. "You did good."She merely said and Pound Cake rubbed her eyes, rubbing her nose and sniffling. "I-I'm sorry teacher...I..."The child sniffed and Kalmuli started walking. "Don't. This is part of life as a healer. Part of growing up as a Mage. You will face trials like these...but I am proud. I saw your work so far."Kalmuli commented, pushing her Spellcycle toward the Pendulum, parking it along the side of the building where it usually was. Out back, there were bodies wrapped in whatever fabric could be found, unable to be saved. Kalmuli frowned, but followed her student into the Pendulum. The child had managed to get as many women and children and elderly into the Pendulum as she could, bandaging and healing what she could until help arrived. They seemed to be grateful to see some reprieve when the Master of the shop came. All eyes seemed to fall on her slim but imposing figure. "Thank you for being patient with my student. I apologize for my absence...but we will get the Keep back in working order as soon as possible. I ask that if any one has any healing background, even sewing, to make yourselves known. We'll need as many hands to help the injured and to rebuild."She asked, going through the rows of people and checking through all of them, asking if they were alright. Pound Cake watched her teacher to stoically handle the healing, using her magic like pouring water over withered flowers. It was amazing how much grace and calm she was showing despite the fact that their home Keep had been destroyed. After making her rounds, Kalmuli stepped outside and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of rot and decay with the air. Pound Cake stepped out with her, trying to show a brave face. "Are they all who survived the attack?"Kalmuli asked, though already knew the answer. "No...Some of the men survived too and there is also the underground. I think they already closed the entrance...I have no seen anyone from down there."The child answered, receiving a pat on her head. "Keep an eye on those inside. I am going to speak to some others and try to help regather the Keep where I can. Hopefully we can get more suitable shelter going...I want you to go to The Room and make contact with the closest realms."Kalmuli informed and she saw the small girl's face light up. Few students were allowed to use The Room, the source of how Kalmuli traveled and communicated with worlds beyond. She eagerly nodded, retreating to do as she was told and didn't turn back. Kalmuli walked away from the Pendulum, heading out into the Keep. She didn't look down at the bodies, the burnt out buildings or the puddles of blood everywhere, but focused on the living. The men who, despite having fought for their life and for cover, still were working on trying to pull out bodies and clear up as much rubble as they could. Covered in sweat and blood, they stared at the white-haired elvish woman with wariness that came with trauma. "Is there anyone hurt that need help right now?"She asked them. "No..."One spoke up. "How many have survived the attack above ground?"She probed more. Silence. "I can't help if you don't talk to me."Kalmuli spoke directly. "From your looks, you've probably never been to my shop. I'm a healer. An Archmage...A counselor should you need it. You went through a lot...Let me help." Kalmuli's ear perked, hearing the sound of moaning beneath the rubble. She stopped trying to talk to the men, moving over to the pile of stones and started throwing rubble away from the spot. The men watched her work meticulously, balancing the stones and carefully moving pieces of building aside like they were as light as cloth. They watched as she crawled into the pit herself, returning up with an older male and his children. The men realized what she was doing, quickly helping her to pull them out. Kalmuli brushed off the dust from her clothes, putting her hands on her hips. "There."She huffed. They stared in awe at her face and then focused more on her ears. Kalmuli caught them staring, reaching up and running her fingers along her ears, watching them stare curiously. "Elves have better hearing than humans. I could hear them beneath the rubble....Trust me. I can help. Gather what men you can and meet me in what's left of the square. We need to get everyone in one mind so we can get the Keep back into recovery."She spoke. "We'll need every able-bodied person here helping." Seeing her actions, she had managed to gain a modicum of respect. It was enough that she could get everyone in one place so she could help try to get them focused. They were shaken by such a terrible raid but that didn't mean the would should stop turning for them. Kalmuli would check on the small family she pulled out, healing any scrapes and other injuries before sending them off to the Pendulum. They would have to retrieve wood and build some temporary structures since her shop could only hold so many until she could do an expansion spell. Kalmuli would make way to the center of town, standing on a pile of rubble and waiting for the men and women to gather close-by. When there was enough of a crowd, she started to speak to the crowd, explaining what happened and breaking down a game plan for cleaning up rubble and bodies. She would break up survivors into three teams: Builders, Burials and Scavengers. Scavengers would gather what supplies could be found and rationed. Builders would use what would could be found or made from surrounding forest to harvest the trees and those who could stomach it could handle the Burials. People were chosen by their knowledge of the Keep and the surrounding areas to help identify the bodies. Those that couldn't be recognized were to be put in a mass grave while others got their individual ones once they could be identified. Kalmuli received a report from Pound Cake of who had responded to their request for additional healers and helpers, feeling a tingle of pride of her students ability to jump into action. Though by nightfall, she was burnt out. Kalmuli sat in the middle of town, wiping her face of sawdust, blood and sweat. They needed more people. The surviving women and children could only do so much and magic would just tap out the strength of those who could use it. Magic that should be reserved for healing and harvesting. A tap on her shoulder stirred her from her deep thoughts and planning, an elderly woman having brought a bowl of stew and a wet cloth. Kalmuli wiped her face, placing the cold cloth on the back of her neck and sniffing the stew. "Thank you..."Kalmuli spoke softly. "You are haven't stopped working since you got back. Your little student told us you were helping another village before you came here...Thank you for helping us."The elderly woman spoke, sitting next to her. She smelled heavily of medicine but it didn't bother Kalmuli much. It was an old, nostalgic smell. Someone who's lifetime was just a blink compared to hers. "My husband says you are the one who makes my medicine for my aches? I've got terrible pain in my hips and knees." "Yes...I make the majority of the medicine in the Keep. Today though, I'm more like upper management for the Keep..."She laughed half-heartedly. "I should have been here but the Keep will rise stronger from this. That's at least what has been divined. More people will come to help soon. Please go get some rest...I'm used to longer hours than humans." The elderly woman would rise, smiling through gummy teeth and patting Kalmuli's head. She reached up, removing one of her shawls to slip over Kalmuli's shoulders too. "Get some rest too. I have seen even Elves sleep."She chided the elvish woman a little. A little stunned, Kalmuli managed to crack a smile and wrapped the shawl around her more like a scarf against the cooler air. The stew tasted over salted but it was enough to giver her some strength back, warming into a comfortable lull. She would retreat to a partially burnt out building where some of the men were around a fire to keep warm. Kalmuli eased up against a wall, sighing and trying to doze for a few minutes before the shift change.
  18. Open

    Theme[spoiler][/spoiler]   Acreos had been traveling all night. He was exhausted. Fatigued. Famished. His black beard somehow felt like weight on his face, eyes stinging, body weak. He had lost his caravan to bandits. His men, his coin, his supplies—gone. Ashville, he hoped, would offer valuable enough restock to get back on track, but for now he was a merchant whose fortunes had become fines, and whose pockets of depth had become pockets of debt. He had put everything into that endeavor. Everything…   Well, at least tonight he could afford himself some slivers of solace, actually managing to find comfort in the drink and the food and the warmth of the inn he had decided would be his resting place for the night. The Traveler’s Tug was positioned about halfway in between Ashville and the Forgotten Wood, allowing a resting period for anyone traveling in either direction. Though enjoying a consistency of customer activity, the inn was no fancy establishment, preferring simpler architecture and basic layout; the 'everyman's inn'. Located where flat grassland began to take place toward Ashville, its outside color of a slightly dark yellow was selected to allow more obvious detection by persons farther away.   Acreos had chosen to sit in the middle of the inn's dining floor, enjoying the swarm of activity that elevated the atmosphere; an all too welcome change from the cold loneliness of an arduous voyage. To make things that much more quaint, alongside a roaring fire, the smell of stewed cabbage and salted meat and the aftertaste of average ale, the incoherent rampage of mixed conversations which ruled the ambiance was overthrown by the majesty of music.   Instruments took cue in their performance. Acreos felt himself smile, heart beating faster, at the sight of the beautiful woman who came to open her mouth and let escape an angelic voice if ever the man had heard one. Her singing was…intense. Taking a slow swig of his ale that suddenly tasted much better, he resided to sitting in comfort, imagining for himself a wife like the woman who had stolen his attention. 
  19. The man known as White listened patiently to the officer's briefing. Travel to the defunct power array, assess the situation, resolve problems if possible, but with primary emphasis on reporting back with pertinent information--yes, he knew all of this already. He wouldn't agree to a task which he didn't already know the terms of, and Stonehaven's civil defense service had been quite clear in the call made for contractors willing to undertake this particular job. Still, it was a formality that had to be endured. As the man droned on White's right eye swiveled and scanned relentlessly beneath its curtain of hair, recording and examining all of his surroundings in detail. There was nothing special in this room by Stonehaven's standards, but he was from Alterion, and their technology was completely foreign to him. The computer consoles mounted on the walls, the bubble-shaped omni-directional camera protruding from the ceiling, the bundles of circuits, cables and other infrastructure packed behind the shining steel wall panels, all of it was fascinating to him in how utterly different its readings were. It was nothing short of incredible, how this island managed to achieve such a level of sophistication without access to any power source comparable to Alterion's Crystal, or even using any magic at all it seemed. This was but one reason why he traveled to the isolated island state. As important as biological data was, samples of unique and useful technology could be just as vital in making advances back in his home sector of Cosanastre. This place and Sector 3 were not really so different, at their core. They had perhaps taken different means to get there, but ultimately both regimes had arrived at very similar locations with their societies. As Sector 3's reigning regent, that was something White could respect. He did not, of course, make his identity as such known while visiting here in Stonehaven. The Royal Doctor wanted none of the nonsense that came with being a person of importance. He had been invisible before becoming regent of a major power, and preferred to remain invisible after. So much easier to learn what one wishes when no eyes are watching. When he arrived at this experimental power array, there would be no eyes watching to tell him not to take scans of its structure for study and replication. Finally the lecture finished and the lieutenant led him to the small craft waiting in the docking bays installed into the sides of the island's cliff faces. The vessel was small and compact, perhaps fifty feet from bow to stern, but more than suited to its purposes--White had downloaded the specs on this model after identifying it as the most likely vehicle to serve in a reconnaissance task like this. A single kinetic cannon mounted on an armored turret occupied the front half of the deck, while a small superstructure with two interior floors occupied the back half, a communications room and then a command room above that from which the ship could be operated, although it could also simply be left in the hands of the onboard AI. Two torpedo tubes were installed below the ship's waterline with a dozen or so missiles at the ready. The gunboat could glide across the surface of the water at blistering speeds, propelled by twin fusion engines on its rear, or reconfigure slightly into a submersible capable of diving as deep as two miles. And it still had bunks for its crew of five and a small mess hall. A thing of beauty, White thought, to pack so much functionality into such an efficient package. "Does it have a name?" White asked. "Hmm? Oh uhh, no. Registration number's four-two-oh ecks-dee. That's the closest we get to naming our ships," the officer responded. "I see." That was rather fitting for the well-oiled machine that was Stonehaven's society. White wondered if any natives would be joining in this endeavor, or if it was to be purely mercenaries. Personally he hoped for the former. People with a personal connection to Stonehaven would have more of an investment in the success of the mission and would likely be willing to struggle harder, less willing to flee if things went poorly. The officer informed him that his fellow crew-members should be along at any moment, and that once all five were assembled, they could shove off immediately. After a reassurance that the onboard AI was more than capable of navigating them to their destination and then back again, the lieutenant bid White farewell, leaving him to stand alone on the deck of 420-XD. The RD paced the gunboat's surface as he waited, methodically examining its engineering. --- OOC: Post an intro for your character however you like, they can come up to the boat after White, or already be on board, or etc. Once everyone has posted we will get going
  20. The trip from his kingdom to these lands was an expansive one. It took time. Time worked in his favor because he needed it to think. Gather his thoughts and let the levity of what it was he aspired to do truly set in. What was that??? Expand. Bring those to whom could use his guidance and direction under a banner that sought to prosper. Sought to uplift and beautify lands that may have gotten ugly in times passing. Give hope to those who were hopeless. Give warriors a flag and a purpose. Give soldiers something to fight for and a country to protect. To make better that to which was bad and he was taking it all upon himself to do so. He was willing to risk himself, life and limb to see his vision come to fruition. There are those who are content with occupying a corner. Having a niche. Carving out a slither of existence and being fine with that. BULL was never so selfish as to keep a good thing all to himself and let it be stated here and now---his rule was a GREAT thing. MANY and ALL would be blessed to have it. Exist within it. Be moved and motivated by it. His only concern was presentation. Rather then come with some large occupying force, he instead comes as a LARGE man capable of Alot of force. Make sense?? Aye, indeed it does. He was indeed large---standing now from his seated position within the air-ship to a lofty 12' in height. Every bit of his 4.4 tons of performance immensity and impeccable musculature beneath a regal armor, promenading down the metal walk way that lead to the cargo bay doors of the behemoth moving through the air. His trusted pilot made him aware that they were over Arcadian Air Space and that sector 5 could be reached from here. He didn't respond. Only idled there for a moment before the hydraulics parted the steel construct before him and the light of the skies at over 40,000' kissed his skin and put detail to features once hidden in a low light ambiance, draped slightly beneath the hues of the red PNR light that had came on just a few hours ago. The absolutely ridiculous amount of Cape draped over those broad shoulders began to flail wildly in the building winds within the vessels cargo bay. All the while one of the airmen approached the king at his flank, and asked a sensible question. "SIR!!! DO YOU REQUIRE A PARACHUTE?????" The king would have looked glared at the airmen. Spite beyond spite. If that look could burn then this man would be a pile of ash. You'd think that the man had asked the king to sleep with his mother, considering the look he was giving him now. Annoyed, but not deterred Bull would precede forward before diving out of the rear cargo bay of the vessel and beginning the descent downward. at 40,000, and 4.4 tons it went without saying that BULL picked up speed very quickly. He was like a massive comet, speeding along at terminal velocity eagerly to the ground awaiting him below. His face was stern. His eyes seemed unaffected by the winds whipping wildly around them. The mass of cloak flailed wildly behind him on his way down. Should there have been anyone who looked up to the skies that day they'd look upward and see the descent and the cone forming just before him. An air wedge created when one was knocking on the door of the speed sound. Yet at the speed of bad assery he approached the ground and just when one may have thought he intended to dive head first into oblivion, his feet flipped over and down toward the ground, going up right. And then it occurred...the touch down. WABOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! His very landing was akin to that of a Nuclear Bomb going off. Not in terms of radiation fall out, but in comparison to sheer magnitude, sound and concussive displacement he came damn close. The crater left in his wake, if filled with water could arguably serve as the largest man made lake in the area. The tremors of his actions could be felt nearly a hundred miles away. The dust cloud in his awake blanketed the area with a thickness that made one seeing their hand in front of their face a nigh impossible feat, and the concussive shockwave that rolled over these lands moved with the ferocity of a category 5 storm. All in all, he had arrived, and the King had walked to the top of his entry land mark and took in all this place had to offer. Mere moments passed. Silence had finally retaken hold of the area when the Titan reached the top of the crater he left in his wake to view the building that served as his Comrades old Headquarters---left as a token to The king who was a member. Entry would soon bring him to a main area where the flick of a switch would reveal the interior of this domain in it's entirety....he had finally arrived. PROTEUS RAUZ....THE BULL.
  21. The soft whine of the magi-tech turbines slowed, the constant howl of the vast amount of wind pulled through them a constant thorn in Séon's side as he had attempted to read through the journey. The captain had an extensive collection of geographic tomes, focusing primarily on wind patterns; slip streams and the like. After much annoyance the captain of the small cargo airship had finally agreed to let the strange young elf borrow a few for the journey, and much to the captain's surprise he returned some twenty hours later asking for more. Despite that, Séon had felt his reading pace had been slowed by the rather loud magi-tech engines and he was thankful to be free from the airship after quite a trip from Tellus Mater to Casper. "You be careful out there, kid. Casper ain't as friendly as Caedule." The gruff looking dwarf captain said, patting Séon on his back and laughing as he did - for Séon had jumped about two feet into the air at the surprise of being touched. After some simple good byes Séon gathered his travel gear, slinging the heavy bag over his left shoulder, strapping his ornate looking short sword to his left hip and finally gathering up the large crystal topped staff. Casper was much larger then Séon had imagined, the sheer complexity of the alleys and paths bewildering him as he nervously glanced back at the airship he had just departed - but now was the no time for regrets! He couldn't give up before it had truly begun, he needed to be a great man his mother could be proud of, he needed to prove to himself he wasn't just a meek fool destined to hide behind his mother his whole life. It was these thoughts racing through his mind that he powered down the street, his staff tapping the hard ground below as he used it to help support himself with each step. "I guess step one is find transport to Blairville, or a guard or companions for the road if I'm forced to walk." Séon mumbled to himself, his soft voice feminine much like his physical appearance. At only five foot six, Séon was below average in height and his build was thin - with small feminine hands and thin forearms it wouldn't be a stretch for his arms alone to get confused for a girls. His soft chin length pale red hair and big green eyes only added to his gentle appearance, and his angular and attractive features were distinctly feminine but uncommon for an elf male. A loose fitting patterned white and red sweater was worn over top a collared black shirt, the sleeves of the sweater flaring wide at the wrists and a bit to large for his frame, covering his hands and hiding his build further. A set of tight fitting black pants covered his lower body, with knee high white and brown boots protecting his thin legs. Over top all of that was a simple red cloak, hood down and made of a material more suited to buffeting the wind then adding an actual warmth to his attire. Eventually his aimless march came to a stop, his eyes exploring the avenue in search of any visitors center or some sort of map or posting. "No chance I can buy passage to Blairville or guard, I'm broke." Séon mumbled, patting his bag with a sign - despite his determination the reality was he had spent all on his money on the ticket to Casper. Travel on the oft dangerous roads of Terrenus roads seemed out of the question solo, but unless he could find work or some kindly soul his chances of reaching his goal any other seemed unlikely. "I guess I should look for work....." He stated more clearly, as if trying to convince himself. Séon didn't have many marketable skills, but Casper was a prosperous place and Séon nodded to himself as he thought of any number of simple tasks he could do. How much could passage to Blairville cost? A guard probably cost even less! In his own mental excitement Séon had lost perspective on his location and bumped straight into a street lamp, garnering a snicker or two from passerby but nothing out of the ordinary for the transient populace of Casper, the bewildered foreigner was a common sight in Terrenus major port. Séon rubbed his forehead slightly, laughing pitifully to himself before continuing down the avenue in search of a visitors center or perhaps a bulletin board with some simple work on it.
  22. open

    Okay Valucrians, I have been receiving interesting email about the Blood Farmers. I have decided to give a LIST of CURRENT Blood Farmers who have either Migrated from Cocytus, or are under rule of Rika's boyfriend, Adrienne Xeno Tepes Gothra. NOTE: This list is TEMPORARY and may change in the future updates that I DO have to finish typing out. Each of the characters are of EXTENDED FAMILIES with incomplete backgrounds thus far, so please do not scowl. I will have the information updated as soon as I can find my other notes. Please give me MORE time. Thank you, Benny. List of CURRENT Blood Farmers and/or Taints as of January 17th, 2016; 5:42 am, CST: 1. Cyrixd Tepes Gothra 2. Adrienne Xeno Tepes Gothra 3. Phelghariah Tepes Gothra 4. Jimmy James Tepes Gothra (Xeno's younger Brother) 5. Lady Mormegil Antoinette Tepes Gothra 6. Xanthrophil Danielle Denise Tepes Gothra 7. Phylla Jeraldine Tepes Gothra-Jones (Engaged to Jimmy) 8. Seresute Delear (Cyrix's Taint; Retired Character) 9. Viscous Anthony Mormegil Tepes Gothra (TBA in an upcoming RP) 10. Danny Micheal Tepes Jones (half blood Farmer through Blood Transfusion; Cab and Limo Driver for Xeno Gothra) 11. Orlougue Tepes Gothra (Cyrix's Father; Head of blood Farmers.....lost to time) Race: Time; Bending Vampires; Coenmic Reasoners of Chaos; Protectors of the weak. Food; Mint Tea, Bloodwyne, Bread, Scones, Cakes Apples Alignment; UNKNOWN Distinguishing Characteristics: Blood Farmers carry either a Gigantic Cross on their backs, or a 4-foot tall Hourglass of Confomance. They are chosen by Lady Vermillion on what weapon to use, based on training technique. Fighting Style; UNKNOWN Quote: "Hero or Villain, Lad or Lass, ALL will answer to the Hourglass!" Any future characters will be added in the upcoming months as RP increases and WILL THOROUGHLY explain what Blood Farmers ARE and where they come from. Benny
  23. Rydsa, a large city that laid in the new island of Valhalla Heights. And the temple laid dormant for ages. It was the year 1792AY, Springtime. April actually. The grass had overgrown the old temple as it had been forgotten including its relics. And it meant it was time to claim them. But sadly, unlike the other treasures in Athentha, these six relics were cursed by the Comet Rain ore. Contaminated by its Magi and turned to cursed items. It would consume the owner giving them abilities like no other at the cost of their humanity and virtues, morals and good hearts. They would become twisted dark creatures loyal to the void of the ore. Now, dear adventurer do you seek the relics? Do you desire power? Riches? Women? The world? This quest is for you. ---- 1792AY, 7 Avril Rydsa Port, Outside Rydsa 9:00A.M The ship docked into the port as it came to land. The airship had stuttered and cranked as it almost fell from the air. It was landing in the port because of an engine problem. Rydsa was a new city full of bright futures and hopes. Marred by the past and the ore called Comet Rain. But the people of the city endured and in time built the most bustling busy city. As the doors opened, the bare feet of the woman stepped out. Her name, Rinoa Alikylan Sakimura-Tachibana Yddragsil. She had made her name even longer because she wanted to. A selfish act from so many selfishness ones. Rin looked upon the city then as she made her way into town. One of the relics was hers to claim and she would get it. No matter the cost. There was a small park the meeting party would meet that were going on this expedition. Those poor souls not knowing their fate. Rin smiled to herself. She wanted to watch them with her own eyes become puppets to the ore. Twisted because they wanted the relics. She was a glutton herself. But she would restrain herself unless a pretty young female came her way. She had a weakness for them as they were more fun to twist. Her bare feet entered the park as she awaited those brave enough to damn their souls. @Deviant @carrionjackal
  24. As Welfrick stood outside of Niche's entrance, he looked in awe at the lurid lights that emanated from within the deepest reaches of the Sud'dha Ksetrom. The bioluminescence that radiated from flora and fauna of the cave system gave the world an alien atmosphere that was in stark contrast to the continent that was above. The air wasn't stagnant at all, but fresh and crisp. When he had first heard about the Ksetrom, he expected to be traversing a damp, musty cave. Instead, it felt as though the hunter was in a dream, an ethereal plane where nothing was what it seemed. Welfrick looked up towards the roof of the cave where dots of luminous stalactites dangled like stars in the sky. He felt strangely at home, drawing his own constellations from lights above him. Ever since the curse, he was no longer able to stargaze in peace -- the monster inside of him would not allow that. Looking up at the night sky was one of his hobbies when he grew up, something that he enjoyed to do greatly. He felt a strange sense of nostalgia wash over him as he reminisced over the life he once lived. Despite it not being the real thing, he enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the artificial night. Currently, he was waiting for the rest of his party to arrive -- they were late. Very late. Thankfully, the morning had just begun, so the hunter had plenty of time to roam free within the network of caves without fear of transforming into a massive beast; however, Welfrick did not enjoy people who wasted time. The researchers from Ashville and the Mhalsakar Conservatory sent him here to join an expedition to catalog and collect samples of undocumented specimens of rare flora and fauna that lied within the deepest recesses of the complex cave system. In particular, the group would be looking for a small white flower known by the natives as "Prakaash Pattee," or "Luminous Petal." It was some kind of wonder drug, a cure-all of sorts. In return for his services, Welfrick would receive information on a possible antidote for his affliction. He couldn't afford to waste any second of this day. He had to finish the mission before night fell. "Where in Gaia's name are they," he said, frustrated. The hunter had been ready two hours ago. As he stood there at the edge of the city, Welfrick remembered how treacherous the terrain on his arrival -- he was lucky to have met a group of travelers who had visited the area before. The entire structure of Ksetrom was like a never-ending labyrinth of shifting passages. Once inside the caverns, it was very easy to get lost. Everything looked the same, and becoming disoriented within the undergrowth was not uncommon. If one was not careful, they could easily become the meal of the cave's more feral inhabitants. The hunter remembered his brief encounter with a horde of Savroch on his journey to the inner city. He shuddered at the thought -- he hated insects. The occurrence was most definitely not a pleasant memory for Welfrick. Other creatures he had seen were the reptillian Rangskel and the vicious Bhaksaka. After seeing them, he wondered what menagerie of creatures lied outside of Nich'e's boundary.... Welfrick sighed, leaning back on the walls on the pale walls of mycelium and thinking deeply about the risks involved in the journey. As a hunter, it was his job to assess the risks associated with traversing any stretch of wilderness, especially since he would be traveling with others. He could easily manage on his own; however, he would have to now worry about the safety and lives of his companions. It would surely be a dangerous mission, going into an environment filled with predators with an entire arsenal of tools used to kill. Out there was jungle law: only the strongest may survive. While Welfrick may not be the strongest predator, he was certainly among the more cunning. Preparation was the first step towards any successful hunting expedition. He took out a small bestiary given to him by the Conservatory and began to read it page by page, muttering the words to himself. "The Preta are a species found in the deeper areas of the Ksetrom, existing on the fringes of life and death... not magical... most likely an infectious parasite... do not approach at close distances...." The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance. Were those his companions? Welfrick put the book away into his satchel, and gave a preemptive greeting. "I assume that everyone is here for the expedition, right? Hunting for that plant? Let's hurry up and go, we don't have all day." The hunt for a panacea among poisons.
  25. "This is your post. You work eight to eight. If you see something urgent, you ring the bells. If you see something that isn't urgent, notify the Watch Guard. We have a trolly that passes by every two hours to supply you with food and snack, but don't fill up and pass out on duty. Do you know how to use your baton?" "R-roger, sir. Thank you for this opportunity and work, Captain." "I'm doing this for your pops. He was a good man. Good kin. Sorry to hear about his passin'. I spent a lot of time on the force and there wasn't a stronger, better man to be in a fight with..." He stared curiously at the boy, wondering where the lineage had died off before shrugging lightly and sighing, "Your WG will be around shortly to introduce himself, I imagine..." With this he turned and walked into the doorway and disappeared into the darkness, leaving the young man to stand atop a the broad wall. There wasn't a sentry station for at least three hundred meters in either direction, which left the youth in his own head to take in a slow, stuttered breath. I can't see myself doing this forever, but with dad gone now ... this is all I have. I have to succeed, or I'll just be another slummer... The perimeter he was to cover was roughly fifty meters squared. A patrol corner on the great exterior wall of the Kadia. The chunky gray walls offered little solace to his waning mood, only seeming to drive him further into the cerebral state of his actions and choices. He saw the look on the Captain's face and knew instantly that he doubted the stock of his father, or whether he was but a bastard. Scrawny and gaunt were two key adjectives that often were used to describe his physique, beyond starved and scarecrow. The night breeze came up the wall, rushing into his face and throwing the ivory strands that hadn't been tied back into a frenzy above his crown as he stared over the edge and down the steep, slanted wall into the darkness below. The etched amber lines of walkways inset into the wall looked like a circuit board within a computer, sprawling the length of the fortifications and dotted with small lights which represented various things. He heard a throat clear, but had felt the presence before the noise turned him around to spy a rotund man with a sinister looking mustache sprawled across his chubby face. "You must be Stigmata?" I had a name once, but it's been so long since anyone hasn't referred to me by my markings that I've forgotten it... "Please call me Stig, sir. It's a pleasure." "How old are you, boy?" "Almost eighteen, sir." "Too young to be stuck in this shitty job already. Don't let me catch you napping. There's a radio in that corner of the post—same as every post. This is S1-0-7. So you'd radio in: Sierra One Zero Seven, all clear, if everything is good. You'll do that on the hour. Do you have any questions, Stig?" "How long have you been doing this?" "Too long, boy. Felroc was a good soldier. If you come from his line, I'm sure we'll have no qualms. Keep your nose clean and report anything to the radio or ask questions. It'll be my Desk Relay who receives your messages and will respond accordingly. We have newbies all the time." "Does everyone know my father?" "Anyone on who is anyone on the wall. He repelled a rather hefty attack a few years back. Some raiders thought they'd picked a good night to hit the Black Watch and ... well, you know how big your dad was. They picked his section. Never seen a man pick up three at once like a god-damn bear..." He chuckled and his fat cheeks hid his eyes immediately. Stig offered a smile, but felt like the shoes he was to fill suddenly had grown deeper until he couldn't even see the bottom—much like the wall he now stood on. "I do remember him coming home a little scuffed up a few years back. Was one of the first times he'd sat and talked with me about the wall..." "Aye, a strong man. An ox. But ... you, he told me you were some sort of ... wizard, I think?" "More like a fated birthmark, really."