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Voting has reset for the month of September. Valucre is in the top 10 but we aim for the top 3 for maximum visibility when people land on the home page of the topsite. If you want to help new members discover Valucre, vote for us daily.

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    • supernal

      Vote for Valucre [September]   09/01/2017

      Voting for the month of September 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. Past hour
  2. Fite me

    Ha, that's not ridiculous at all. I used to be in RPs that churned out 100+ posts in a day sometimes. (Granted those had no length requirements and nobody involved had a life at the time. [And yes, I'll shut up about my past RP experience now.]) Anyway, looks like you have your spot filled, but just thought I'd plug myself for anything you come up with in the future where you may need an active poster. *Quickly bows out of the room before staff throws him out*
  3. Unfinished Business

    Raylon was an astute king, with a generous amount of tact when it came to responding to all sorts of individuals. The response Tenebre had offered him concerning Gabriela's well-being caused the impromptu visitor to travel into various realms of thought. What little he knew about the relationship the dark deity had with the queen helped him pick up on the hints of disappointment and annoyance when it came to someone Tenebre held so dear. For a brief moment, the response mirrored how the deity he himself hosted would react when he did not approve of his actions. This revelation of commonality was not enough to cause him to pry though so he continued to follow along at a moderate pace, admiring his surroundings despite the fact he could not truly appreciate them due to his distracting mind. Illyrians had always been weary of what some would consider the occult and if one were privy to the history of his kingdom they could easily see why. Vampirism fell under this blanket and beings such as Tenebre who stood before him would never find full acceptance in a kingdom that thrived on technological innovation and the purity of magic. Their king knew better than to discriminate or place stigma though. Learned in all sorts of supernatural topics, it was not hard for him to assume that perhaps he would be faced with a drastically changed Gabriela than the one he knew from years ago. Was she...'mortal'? Human...even? Ever inquisitive he would have continued to wonder had it not been for Tenebre offering up more conversation than he truly expected. The mention of Gabriela's growing family catalyzed the smallest of frowns as it only served as an indicator for how much of a failure this relationship he had with the queen had become. To be unaware of milestones like these proved he had become nothing more than an afterthought. He would expect nothing less given the circumstances but that still would not prevent him from responding to Tenebre's questioning. "We have fared well. Illyria has never flourished as much as it is doing so now. I have acquired enough benefit from this to initiate this visit after so many years." Raylon made no mention of Havoc, tacitly displaying how much he considered the deity he hosted a part of his very being. At this time it suited Havoc well as he could care less about speaking to Tenebre. For all of the deity's complaining about his Illyrian host, it was clear that he did not foresee any detrimental result to this whole ordeal. The courtyard Raylon now stepped into tugged at his attention but briefly, the sight of the flora tickling at his pride ever so slightly. It was increasingly difficult to avoid comparing kingdoms whenever he visited ones that were not his own. He felt no air of superiority and had little time to manifest whatever bubbled within his mind though as his staff suddenly snapped into the air, slowly hovering over the gardeners of the castle that were present for but mere seconds before immediately lunging itself to the king's side. This is exactly when Tenebre spoke once again, using that colorful title that Raylon had now grown accustomed to from the 'old man'. He had not ignored the private wing he had been led into but it was clear that he had been preoccupied with other thoughts. This would help him little to prepare what came next. Foreboding seconds passed, Tenebre's name being spoken in dulcet tones that entranced him as he stood behind Tenebre, shadowy appendages obfuscating his view. It wasn't until the shadowy being seeped away through the floor beneath him that the king realized the predicament he was in. The dark veil was gone, his bright white robes once again demanding more attention than he wanted at the moment. Piercing silver eyes witnessed and absorbed a sight he was sure not many individuals in this vast world should have the privilege of seeing. <"That treacherous Tenebre really set you up now. What is a king to do now?"> Tanned cheeks quickly filled with a tinge of red and thoughts of mimicking Tenebre's sudden exit and seeping through the very same floor became increasingly enticing when compared dealing with the situation before him. Nevertheless he persisted, electing not to look away but setting a searing gaze to the sweet visage that struggled to correct this situation they were both thrust into. A sheepish smile forced itself into view before Raylon finally spoke in response to the queen's apology. "There is no need for an apology, Gabriela. Had I known you were tending to this child I would have gladly waited instead of interrupting so rudely. Forgive me for the intrusion." Had it not been for Tenebre, he would have never been placed in this predicament but that did not take away his responsibility or fault. No matter how intense his attempt to focus on the queen's face was, eyes would naturally divert to other areas of her body yet the tinge on his cheeks would slowly fade away. The king now considered it rude to feel any shame for what he was seeing. As was customary in Illyria when apologizing, he stepped forward even more, Gabriela's naked upper body offering up more and more detail the closer he became. There were no perverse intentions, however, as Raylon quickly bowed in apology, arm curving under his bent form and hand pressed tightly against his chest. The luster of his hanging hair covered much of his face now yet the rigidity of his positioning spoke to an expectation that Gabriela would understand he was faithful to his customs. Ever hopeful that this would not ruin his visit, he waited for the Orisian queen to respond, silently elated at his proximity to her as well as the possibility that he could restore what had been lost so many years ago.
  4. Jay vs Baron Von Hensch

    It was a vicious counter attack, one that Jay's never seen someone do before. It seemed that the Baron had completely read through his movement, choosing to call his bluff with an attack of his own. Battle mode kicked in, Jay could feel it through the rapid beating of his heart. If this counter attack was successful, it might very well end this fight before it even begins. His muscles moved before his mind could fully process. His left hand gripped his right fist as the Baron began to lift him up. Putting all his strength into it, Jay twisted his upper body to the side and brought his right elbow down on the Baron's exposed back, aiming for the area directly below the right shoulder blade where there would be muscle and nerves. Jay's plan was to shock the Baron with this attack, incapacitating his body and leaving him unable to complete his smashing attack or at least slow down its momentum. This window was a very brief one for Jay to still escape the possible damage that might occur.
  5. Today
  6. A Religious Robbery [Class B Quest]

    Dan was relieved when the rest of his partners joined him without raising an alarm. "Yeah this is the Nave. Next, we head to the far end and curve into the Great Cloister. I have an idea on how we can get at least one outfit without going too far in. I won't be able to make a move on the people that will show up though, unless something really random happens. Just in case, how comfortable would you guys be with incapacitating several people at once as quietly as possible?" This was one of the hitches in the plan. Once he started the act, he wouldn't be able to stop until all the witnesses were out cold. There were so many things that could go wrong with this bit. Too many people could come, or too few. Or none. Dan was banking on people coming, as this was a church, but he wasn't sure. Dan forced himself to evaluate again. This was a church. A place of refuge. Who in a church wouldn't help an injured 14 year old boy? "Look. Something else. And this is VERY important. Later on, if something happens, I need you to trust me, alright? No matter what I say or do, I'm on our side. Understand?" This was not something Dan usually asked, as it seemed really suspicious. But this was a dangerous job, and he didn't know the actual skill levels of the people he was working with. If he had to do something drastic, the last thing he needed was his teammates not getting it. Although... That would make it more convincing. Yeah. And more dangerous. Especially in the long run.
  7. Tavern of Legend: Season 2

    Marienne had just been minding her own business. Holding her shawl in place, nursing a tepid glass of water between dirtied fingers, staring with a blank expression into nothing. Her hair fell in her mouth as she drank, but decided that it was a waste of effort to try and pull it out again. When the doors to the tavern slammed open, a whisper of cold wind tightened around her, and she curled up further into herself, shying away from the fields of gooseflesh that erupted on her exposed skin. The witch turned her head to the side, sneaking a glance at the woman who had entered the bar. She was short, a lot shorter than Marienne by the looks of it, but with a similar mop of dark hair. Observantly, the witch noticed that the new arrival was soft where Marienne was sharp, approachable where the witch was prickly. But there was something about her - her posture? Her behaviour? Something that suggested that she earnestly believed she was much more than she actually was. Marienne didn't expect the woman to just slide right into the seat beside her, far less expect her to actually touch her. Marienne was quiet for a moment after Aveline's grand introduction, adapting to the situation. She was obviously very perceptive if she could already predict the majority of Marienne's recent past without her even saying a word, so the witch had to watch her step. Smoothly, with only a slight hitch in her breath to detect her unpreparedness, Marienne slid into her charm voice. Low, soft, smooth, silky. Charm them, manipulate them. If this woman truly was unhinged, she may be easier to exploit. Marienne half-turned in her seat, tilting her head to the side to look at Avaline more easily in the eyes, fixing her with her cold grey stare. "Phoenix Chasing the Sun, hm?" She replied lowly, batting her lashes. Play it cool, play it calm. She was at a disadvantage here. "Phoenix indeed. I've never seen anyone so hawk-eyed and perceptive." Placing her lukewarm water on the counter, Marienne turned fully to lean her elbows against the table and stretch back, akin to the movements of a cat. "You got me, Avaline Roseau de Lafayette," the corners of her mouth quirked up slightly at the side, "Now what? Will you make me your slave? Will you exploit me? Will you restore my riches?" Bat, bat, batted her eyelashes, feigned innocence, naivety. Made sure to make Avaline believe she was the one with the power. "What next, Miss?" @SadDice
  8. A Religious Robbery [Class B Quest]

    He couldn't deny the quiet sigh of relief that escaped his lips as soon as the other had stepled away from the guards, immediately pressing his back against the pillar when the guards looked around. I don't know whether to call this a close call or not.. He thought to himself, quickly slipping towards the door and joining his companions. If I remember correctly..."Are we at the nave?" He had to make sure. He wasn't exactly the best at naming places, but from what he could remember they should be at the nave. Looking around, he did a quick sweep of the area, keeping a close eye on the different entrances and exits in case someone were to suddenly enter.
  9. Quest: Hounds and Helping Hands

    Oh well actually I read on the first page that you were hit by hurricane Irma so I went looking for another RP, already found one :P Don't have any extra characters so sorry I can't join, maybe next time we meet again :)
  10. [Nymeria] About Damn Time (The Return of a King)

    Breathe. That simple word repeated itself at a mile a minute, desperately bouncing about within the skull of the man whose consciousness gave it life, hammering away it's message as he fearfully convulsed in his bed. Breathe. At last, the word and it's meaning took root. The man calmed down long enough to inhale deeply, feeling the familiar sensation of bubble-like sacs expanding at the sides of his neck, and water being first forced through, and then expelled out as the sacs deflated. This cycle continued at a rapid pace, before eventually slowing down and reaching a more steady pace. As feelings of terror left him, and sleep gradually made way for wakefulness, it all quickly came back to him. Shcxay Signowr di Nymeria reluctantly recalled the nightmare that had left him in his breathless state. Memories of his fateful descent into the deepest reaches of the trenches outside of Nymeria had a tendency to haunt him, the feeling of being crushed by the pressures below forever etched into his mind. But that of course, was in the past. Nothing could be done of it now. The fresh pain in his legs on the other hand, were not. And there was little doubt in Shcxay's mind that a trip to see Juni would remedy it for the time being. Sitting upright in his bed, Shcxay looked over to the corner of his chamber, turning his attention to where it met with the ceiling. Raising a hand, he groggily muttered the correct incantations under his breath, the dense fog of sleep clouding his mind and forcing him to give the simple spell much more effort than it typically required, almost causing him to forget to Breathe. He caught himself, afterwards returning to the spell with renewed vigor invoked by his near skipped breath. A small, barely visible shimmer at the corner of the room appeared, and Shcxay was pulled up and out of his bed towards it, before being dispelled as he reached the center of the room. He floated down to the floor, now resting on its surface much like an average creature would on dry land, his mass now bound by the larger gravitational spell keeping those within the Mage Corps.' headquarters firmly affixed to the ground. His legs ached as the weight of his body pushed down on them, and his shoulders felt heavy as the apparatus around his neck performed it's life-enabling duty. The device was a strange thing, resembling a cross between a chitinous exoskeleton, a chest-plate, and a bulky life vest. It was elegant in it's design, but incredibly unwieldy in appearance and practice. Shcxay limped over to a closet on the far side of his chamber, and began to adorn himself in his uniform. As a high-ranking officer of the Mage Corps., Shcxay's uniform consisted of a primarily green light armor, accented with a deep purple in places. The uniform would typically end there, but there was more to his role than that of a mere officer. Shcxay also served the important role of Nymeria's Grand Inquisitor, and both out of a sign of respect, and an understandable need for him to feed his ego, the position called for more formal dress. Over his armor, Shcxay slipped on a dark grey cloak, while atop his head he placed a circlet of jagged coral, colored a deep emerald. Taking a moment to view himself in a mirror within the closet, Shcxay briefly entertained thoughts that had long since been eradicated after his incident in the trenches. His circlet did look an awful lot like a crown, did it not? What would his father have thought of him if he had come back from his trek in one piece, rather than the broken man that he is today? What doors could have been open to him that were perhaps now closed? Breathe. These thoughts would help no one. With a slam of his closet door, Shcxay banished them back from whence they came, and lurched his way out of his chamber, down the halls of the Mage Corps. headquarters, and out onto the streets of Nymeria, his beautiful home, a destination set in mind. _ Shcxay floated through the colorful canvas township that was the Faliga, having given up on attempting to limp the whole way a quarter of the way there. Searching the crowd of huts and tents for Juni's abode, he eventually laid his eyes upon it, and steered his way towards it, drifting through it's flaps to see a rather unexpected site. Sitting on the floor, seemingly fast asleep, was Ryxchra Alrandwe di Ferdina. The King in the Waves himself. His Uncle. It had been somewhere around ten years since Shcxay had last seen this man, and it pained him to remember that it had been before he was resigned to his current state. What would he think, seeing his nephew, a young man of such potential, a bastard well on his way to proving his worth, now nothing more than a cripple, no more fit to live in the ocean than he was to live on land, his royal blood sorely lacking. Dark thought after thought collided around his skull, distracting him, consuming him, until his body betrayed him. Breathe.
  11. Lost on Shore [Turned OOC]

    I probably won't be able to post until after work tonight.
  12. Jay vs Baron Von Hensch

    The rules weren't anything too unusual, but all the same Vol Hensch breathed a sigh of relief on hearing them. No hair pulling! His carefully trimmed whiskers were safe! A little more at ease, he fixed his mind on the coming duel. As the gong sounded, he too would advance, though in a markedly different manner. Where Jay strode forwards quickly and confidently, the Baron moved more slowly, almost cautiously, showing little of the youthful vigor his opponent did. Thus, they'd enter each other's range around three-fourths of the way across the ring from Jay's end. This boy had clearly given and taken a few knocks before. Von Hensch could already tell he was a slippery one, trying to trick him into a defensive position right off the bat! A cunning maneuver, but it held three weaknesses. Firstly, the Baron knew his best days were behind him and chose not to move in recklessly, giving him time to judge distance and ready himself to respond to an early strike. Secondly, rather than make a jab or a front kick, moves with often deceptive range, Jay chose to sweep at the Baron's side. In order to be effective, such a move would require at least part of Jay's foot to extend past the front line of Hensch's torso. In reality, of course, the feint would never touch him. Though it would only barely miss grazing him, that was a far cry from an effective blow to his side, a difference the Baron was more than capable of judging. Thirdly, through happy coincidence, the move played right into Hensch's own plan of attack. He seemed to tense as the feint swung at him, leaning slightly to the left- the strike was fast enough that he had no time to be sure of his judgement, and it was hard to suppress one's instincts in the face of such a threat. All the same, he'd chosen to make the gamble. He wasn't going to be forced on the defensive so easily, even if it meant risking a hit; his intent had always been to take the offensive. The instant Jay's foot passed him by, the Baron lunged forwards. It wasn't a straight movement: he stepped in with his left foot first, moving into the space Jay's leg had swept through just before, slightly to the younger man's right. Nor did the mustachioed adventurer remain upright. It'd be almost impossible to intercept him with a punch, for as he moved his low stance dropped even lower, his torso leaning forwards until it was nearly horizontal. As for a kick- well, unless Jay was somehow able to immediately reverse the momentum of his right leg, there wouldn't be any risk of that. In short, Hensch came in low and slightly to the left, leaving no opportunities to effectively bar his path. This wasn't some mere advance, either. Unless Jay somehow managed to defend or retreat while badly out of position, the Baron would literally run into him, using his own body to block Jay from getting his right foot back down while wrapping his arms around the younger man's hips and hauling upwards, using his entire body as a lever to momentarily lift his opponent entirely off the ground. Before slamming him viciously down on his back, combining forward momentum and leverage for a single, crushing blow.
  13. A new land ( survivors destination:High rock)

    All was quiet as Markus explored the castle, leading the way with his acquired dagger. The place was dark, with lots of fallen debris and shadows to hide behind if he so wished. It was a tempting thought - an escape from the slave life. He pulled uncomfortably at the collar that chafed his neck, a reminder that things weren't that easy. He couldn't leave this area if he didn't want to be blown to bits. He sighed. Where was the alleged treasure? Just as he thought that, a shimmer of light passed across his eyes. Something was reflecting the moonlight through a crack in the wall. A secret chamber of some sort? Markus tried to pry at the crack, but it wouldn't budge. The dagger didn't fit through it either. He looked around for a good fist-sized piece of stone that could be used to pound at the crack, hopefully chipping it off.
  14. ZARP

    ^smol time skip to midnight?^ (Mar) I got up out of bed and nudged Nathen who, with much persuasion, got me to let him sleep beside me on my bed. when was the last time this guy slipped? I thought to my self. I pushed him slightly "get up" he groans and I push him again "Get up, we need to go scavenge, i don't have enough food for us to last even 2 days" he groans once again and this gets on my nerves. I push him off my bed "Get your ass dressed so we can survive in this fucked up apocalyptic world we call 'Earth'!" after that I get my clothes on, and it that makes me look like in am 'Alan walker' (Nathen) So I didn't want to sleep on the floor, I mean who knows what was on it even at this moment. After a good 30 minutes of talking I agreed to stay on my side of the 'bed' and at midnight, we will go rade some people. the time comes and I get pushed off the 'bed' "Aghh! ok, ok, ok! ill get my bag" then i get up and put on my jacket followed by my bag.
  15. Looking for a sparring partner

    If this is still open, I'm interested, since I just completed my last combat thread with Fierach. I intend to have several combat sequences, with various characters that I've used on this thread. So far, only one of them has been exposed to Combat. I'm not a fan of the prep system, because of the impression that a prepped Attack is strictly one unit more powerful than a normal Attack, and a twice prepped Attack being two units stronger, etc. Rather, I'd prefer to let the strength of the Attack be left open ended. There is no real digit that can be given to dictate how well something gets countered. Since we're both polite people, I'd assume that we'd be more than willing to not go over the top to beat the other, to the point where it gets unpleasant. Hence, I would request not to use the prep system. I'm thinking of doing a 1x1, in any setting, possibly varying based on the characters used. If a battle seems to be getting too drawn out and boring for either of us, we can choose to cause a slip, a mistake on one of their parts, and then have them die slowly and painfully. Of course, all of this would happen in the universal coliseum, and would not require any introduction of the characters. However, I would still play them into character, so they would bear the semblance of thought, and the willingness to hold back due to sympathy, and clear weakness in many of my characters. I cannot guarantee that I'll be able to produce 400-500 words. In fact, I can guarantee that no matter how hard I try, 400-500 is far out of my reach, unless you wish for me to queue 20 different attacks against you at once that you'll have to deal with simultaneously, something which is a tad bit extreme. I tend to queue at most three seperate actions within each post. I will put time and effort into them however, that goes without saying. Here is an example of how I roll if you're curious, just scroll down the page a lil' bit. I'm prepared to get my ass kicked in the name of science. Are you? @LordYalet
  16. Winds of Alteria

    Satisfied that Ayla had accepted his offer, Kado smiled contentedly. It was endearing to see the flush on her face from his compliment, but it was a sincere one all the same. Not too many girls might feel comfortable traveling with a young man, but Ayla didn't appear to be too concerned. Kado felt happy to have earned the girl's trust, and was determined to never abuse it. Thankfully, the young woman actually decided to accept his kindness, and mentioned that she would need protection from the cold. "That would be a good idea. The nights have started to chill, and making a fire isn't always possible. You'll be protected from daytime weather as well." A cloak such as the one he normally traveled with should be sufficient, especially since it had been enough to keep his clothing dry from the storm. Noticing the woman looking up at his frame, Kado realized that he must appear especially tall from thing angle. Especially since Ayla was nearly two heads shorter than himself, and might barely reach his shoulders if she stretched. The difference had not been as noticeable sitting at the table, and he found himself needing to tilt his head down in order to make eye contact. "Well, shall we be leaving?" Kado smiled, and moved to hold open the door for the two of them. As the pair passed along the halls into the main room of the tavern, Kado returned the room key before fetching his now dry cloak. The tavern appeared mostly empty today, with one or two figures unconscious at a table. The walk to a corner store on the outer edge of town was uneventful, and as they passed through large crowds, Kado found himself holding Ayla's arm so they did not lose each other. That gesture alone caused nearly all the other men to now keep their distance from the girl, wary of the man obviously protecting her. The chosen shop was run by a middle-aged man, and appeared slightly quiet this morning. Kado had a little trouble finding a cloak that did not immediately engulf Ayla in it's size, and was eventually able to find one that ended just above her ankles. Another bedroll was picked up, as the young man expressed his own could only fit one person, and he was not about to Ayla sleep directly on the ground. After picking up a few other minor supplies and some rations, Kado found his pack substantially more filled out, and his coin purse a bit lighter. Happy with the business, the shopkeeper wished them well on their travels, although only after mistaking the two for a couple. "It might be a good idea to head south for now. The terrain on that road is simple, so it shouldn't be too washed out. The route is a bit remote, so I wouldn't expect to see too many others." Kado explained as he began to lead them out of the town. After passing the main crossroads, it wasn't long until they began to walk down a narrow path which quickly led into a light forest. "We'll make camp an hour before sunset, but feel free to let me know if you need to rest sooner." The Druid allowed Ayla to pick the pace, knowing that with his stride it was easy for him to walk too fast. Feeling at home in the woodlands, Kado was happy to enjoy the peace, letting the girl before him lead in conversation.
  17. Jay vs Baron Von Hensch

    Jay did not have as many scars decorating his body as his opponent, his pale skin being mostly smooth save for a few here and there. He had seen his fill of battle in and outside of the arena, however. His keen brown eyes studied his opponent as he made his way into the ring dramatically, silently analyzing his every move. It was clear that the baron had seen his fair share of fights before and had managed to stay in shape for more to come. Jay took it as a sign not to underestimate the older man. As his opponent assumed his battle stance the voice of the referee who stood outside the ring boomed across the arena, issuing a wave of silence to settle among the crowd. "WELCOME TO THE ARENA!" This broke the silence for a few moments as the crowd rose in a cheer once more before quieting down again at the sound of the referee. "THE RULES ARE SIMPLE: WIN CONDITIONS ARE KNOCK-OUT OR TAP-OUT. NO WEAPONS OR GADGETS ALLOWED. ANY ATTEMPTS AT BITING, SCRATCHING, HAIR PULLING, OR UNDER THE BELT KICKING WILL RESULT IN YOU BEING IMMEDIATELY DISQUALIFIED AND REMOVED FROM THE RING. EVERYTHING ELSE IS FAIR PLAY. TRY NOT TO KILL EACH OTHER AND MAY THE BETTER FIGHTER WIN. BEGIN!" The sound of the gong followed the referee's words immediately, signaling that the fight had indeed begun. Jay didn't waste in any time in acting, choosing to go for an offensive maneuver to get a measure for his opponent's reactions. With his arms posed in front of his chest, he began to take long, quick strides towards the Baron, beginning his attack by bringing up his right leg for a powerful sweeping kick aimed at the Baron's side. This, however, was a feint. Jay positioned himself at a distance where his first kick would miss, if only by a minuscule distance, hardly noticeable. His right leg would harmlessly sweep the air in front of the Baron, possibly drawing a defensive reaction from his opponent before completing it's arc and coming down. As soon his right foot would touch the ground, Jay would bounce, using the momentum of his first kick to propel himself forward, launching a faster, more devastating round house kick with his left leg, this time aimed for the Baron's head. If this attack is successful, it would undoubtedly leave the Baron stunned, assuming the impact doesn't knock him out entirely. Blocking the kick would result in a considerable impact as well, due to the momentum of the attack, possibly leaving the Baron shocked from the force.
  18. [Ravenspire] Rendezvous.

    "That you did," Rou answered toward his promise, meeting him halfway to fetch the glass with a lean, dragging the unfortunate maid with her. Ignoring the annoyed grunting of the maid who resumed brushing (albeit wrangling her long tresses a little forcefully), she swirled the red malbec around the glass like a whirlpool, taking in its floral aroma. She balanced it delicately as the wet-haired An'She was pulled by the scalp, the usual morning's tormentous routine for the sake of beauty-- no doubt with so many sisters, it wouldn't be the first time he'd been privy to the female preening process. "To Kadia and Umbra," she toasted back with a raise of her glass and an arch of her brow, "and the fortuitous opportunity it has provided us both." Rou quickly found it hard to enjoy the subtle sweetness with the maid at her back, effectively sloshing her drink with each pull of the bristles. "That's enough; just arrange it in a ponytail for me, and you may be excused," she ordained authoritatively; she hadn't been born into the sort of privilege that gave orders, though it was certainly a hat the An'She wore well, now that she'd earned it. The maid seemed relieved, making quick work of the task she was bid; gathering up the dishes she'd set aside, she curtsied to both her charge and the Prince before leaving them to skitter off to the kitchens. Finally able to enjoy her wine in peace, Rou closed her eyes as she took a frugal sip of the malbec, contemplating it awhile, deep and dry. "You should consider yourself proud, your Grace," she said finally, licking her lips and dipping her chin in a reverential nod. Obviously satisfied, her gaze found the Prince over the rim of her glass as she went for another fair sip, "It is a marvel." His choice had obviously pleased her, as she made moderately quick work of the glass and returned it to him to fill again. It had been so long since she'd had the pleasure of a red that wasn't a foul Orisian, as was favored by the allegedly tasteless East Genesarian populace, and wasn't going to let the opportunity for a more refreshing and sweet palette to go to waste. "You wouldn't like me very much at cards or dice, I'm afraid," she commented slyly as he tended to her glass; Rou proved not to be shy about most things-- her liquor, included. However, her half-cocked smile hid her true reasons as she indulged in her second glass of wine, "...because I don't even need sleeves as long as this to cheat." The Buxom Bandit had spent a great deal of time in the taverns and inns during her prime, and Rou could make a deck of cards do whatever she wanted, and charmed dice like a pair of snakes. Too many victims found themselves signing away their life savings across from her in a hand of cards... whether they slid it coin by coin across the table to her, or unsuspectingly invited her back to their room on a drunken winner's high, only to find their valuables stolen by dawn. "I make quite the sore loser," she humored him with a feminine, sweet smile, Deiter seemingly unalerted to the dark thoughts beneath, with how often he cared to wink at her. "You do write in the common tongue, do you not?" Rou asked as she delved into the box, withdrawing a number of enamel pieces and sliding them across to Deiter, and collecting an assortment for herself. Each white square tile was perfectly polished and shiny, with a dark letter carved in ink upon the center of its face. "Since you're a virgin to the game," she said, glancing up at him keenly before returning to the tokens, "We'll play with the easiest rules. Players begin with ten tokens, a different letter upon each. Every turn you draw three new tokens--" she held up three fingers, and with a flamboyant snap, exchanged it for one-- "and you may exchange one for a letter you wish, should you need to. The longer word you create, the more points you get; once a player has used all their tiles, you earn fifty points to add to your score, and the game is over." Rou started to peruse her own tiles, sliding them across the surface of the table as she tested out combinations, not taking her eyes off them as she paused for a sip of wine. "The gimmick of the game is to intersect the new word with a letter from the previous word played." "Fair enough?" she propositioned him with a lift of her glass, the keen challenge in place. "Ladies first?" After fetching three new ones to her assortment, the tiles softly scraped at the wood table surface as she slid them into place, displaying the word CORSET in front of him. "That's six points for me; now you must create a word that intersects with mine." Rou's yellow eyes watched him carefully over the rim of her glass, silent and half-hidden in the glass of malbec.
  19. The Abyss Gazes Back [Artifact]

    Damn it all, Cerik had been through far too much with his lance to let it get swallowed by some damned sea serpent. Stormfire swam fearlessly above the serpent, allowing Cerik to drop off her back and onto the neck of the beast. He plunged Farcutter into the closest eye he could reach. As the creature screamed in agony, the knight wrapped his arm around what he thought to be its stomach, and started a cycle of squeezing, letting go ever so slightly, then squeezing again. Soon enough, Windpiercer came shooting out of the serpents mouth, along with... stuff that the knight didn't care to identify. All he needed to know is that it was more than likely absolutely disgusting. Pulling Farcutter back out of the serpent's eye, he jumped to the seafloor to retrieve Windpiercer. When the serpent, blinded by rage, charged forward toward the knight, Cerik thrust the lance forward, plunging the weapon into its chest. On a lesser creature, this would have been a fight-ending blow. Instead, the serpent ripped itself backwards, leaving a blood trail in the water as it retreated into a cave-like formation within the reef. The knight whistled for Stormfire, and was soon giving chase.
  20. Jay vs Baron Von Hensch

    "Augustus, you're up!" Squinting at his reflection in the mirror, the Honorable Baron Augustus Von Hensch, first of his name, moved a pair of silver scissors just a millimeter upwards and closed them with a quiet snip, shearing a tiny tuft of white hair off the edge of his mustache. A delicate art, this. A noble adventurer couldn't go out in public without making sure his facial hair was positively fabulous, could he? Leaning back, he took himself in, appraising his work. Handsome as always, if starting to age a little. The left edge of his beard wasn't quite perfect, though- perhaps a little extra trimming would be needed. As he reached for the scissors again, however, something gave him pause. He could hear the crowd cheering, raucous and eager in their anticipation for the coming fight. What kind of a man would he be if he denied them his presence a moment longer? Why, hardly a man at all! "Very well." He straightened, standing up and stretching. "Time to show this young rascal what for!" Mere moments later, he burst out into the open and strode confidently over to the ring. Like his opponent, he'd forsaken his shirt for the battle, adorning himself only with a pair of sturdy purple shorts and small, tough gloves, along with a glorious, flowing cape that swept out behind him as he approached. This last garment he cast aside upon reaching the ring, tearing away the clasp with one hand and flinging the cloak out into the crowd, where grasping hands quickly snatched it up and fought over it with glee. After one final stretch (wouldn't do to have his back give out on him now of all times), the Baron stepped into the ring, triggering a fresh round of cheers and hoots. Time at last for the fisticuffs! He spread his arms wide, beaming at the noise around him, then clapped his hands together, rubbing them against one another before settling into a low stance on the opposite side of the ring from his opponent, knees bent and arms at his sides as he faced down the other man with a devilish stare. Augustus was around the same height as Jay, and surprisingly only slightly leaner. True, he had a few creases and wrinkles beginning to creep their way across his features, but in terms of musculature one could see that he'd been keeping in good shape, a product of his active and dangerous lifestyle. Scars swept across his chest here and there, wounds from old battles- but it remained to be seen whether he had fight in him yet. Only a few seconds after he'd entered the ring, a loud gong would sound, signaling that the time for pleasantries was over- the fight had begun!
  21. [Lorean] Wandering Lone Wolf

    Paris smiled a wicked, inviting smile that split like face like a fine butcher’s knife. Mm, I can think of several ways I’d like to employ you, little Okina. His pale jade eyes darkened with thought, his carnality always an obvious thing whenever it manifested itself. I bet you howl like a bitch in heat when you're being taken. “Is that so incredulous a reason?” the crown prince inquired with a smirk. “That the heir to the throne would walk among his people so that they do not come to think their plight, their suffering, their losses go unnoticed?” Casting his gaze across the rows of graves at their feet, he gestured out lazily with his offhand. “This women and women died serving my family, just as their ancestors did, and so on and so forth, dating back to the First Men of Lorean,” he explained with all the elegance of a studied professor. “The Du Chevalier dynasty has not survived this long by neglecting its foundation. “And that is what they are: the basis on which this kingdom is built, upon which my rule shall be centered. I cannot hope for my people to serve me if they believe their efforts are for naught,” he reasoned. Surely, even a vagabond looking for work could understand such a simple concept. “That leads to resentment, and resentment is the seed of the great tree of rebellion. A king is nothing without subjects to rule and lands to govern,” he chuckled darkly. “So yes, I am here to visit these men and women in the aftermath of their darkest hour. It is the least I can do.” Glancing back over his shoulder at the village, Paris smiled more knowingly. “And they love me for it. That’s all politics are, Okina—a dance of love and hate. Learn to balance them, and you win the game of thrones.” He pursed his lips as his expression turned thoughtful. “Or rather, you survive the Game. No one ever truly wins.” Several steps brought him closer to the she-wolf, closer than one might consider appropriate between a man and woman of no familiarity. “Now that I’ve answered one of your questions, perhaps you will answer mine?” Paris did not try to hide how his gaze danced over her, favoring her more supple, feminine features. “What manner of services do you offer, Master Adventurer Okina Raynes.” Then he was walking away, further into the cemetery. “What would a prince’s coin purchase?”
  22. Lyric Talk -- Literally

    So dance, fucker, dance. Man, I never had a chance.
  23. The deafening roar of the crowd was music to Jay's ears as he stepped into the large, circular ring. He made his way from the entrance to the other side of the ring, a smile on his face the whole time as the crowd cheered and waved to him. He was a regular here, had been for some time now. Upon reaching his corner he removed his black shirt, choosing to stand topless, for greater mobility. He wore only a black pair of pants. Jay began to stretch while waiting for his opponent, jumping up and down in place to get the blood flowing through his body, his heart beating slightly faster from anticipation for the rush of the fight. He would be fighting an older man today, surely one with more experience than him, and a baron no less. Perhaps this will be interesting...
  24. Adolphus Chronicles: Prelude

    Punctual. The staccato click of heels on marble flooring echoed down the corridor Adel was led through. Though she was often early for the world, often she found herself ill with having to wait for the correct and proper time--and worse, if the world was late. By the graciousness of the Inquisitor's instructions she was permitted to enter the moment she arrived and not a minute later! She was an attractive woman; blond-haired, brown-eyed and all business. A pair of slim rectangular glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, her lips drawn into a taught smile. It was always a business suit with her, a matching briefcase to the black ensemble she wore never far from her grasp. Its very contents were considerably dangerous, after all. She was Adelaide Upton, the Blue Scholar; Artificer and Technomancer. Her skills were particular and so--it was a great pleasure upon the disbanding of OXY to receive a summoning from the Inquisitor himself. The dimness of the light did not bother her--for too often she was squirreled away in an office tinkering away until the early stretch of dawn across the skies. The zealousness with which she worked was diminished only by the imposing figure of the robed Inquisitor. Adel did not fancy people, but this man was another breed of something altogether. She did not sit--for seeming all too comfortable would afford her scorn, she understood. No matter! With a reflexive glance at her watch, she marked the time. Her posture was impeccable, evading eye contact with the other erect woman in the room with them. Before long others would arrive. Now it was just a matter of time.
  25. Fite me

    Sweet! I'll start the thread shortly.
  26. Some Variation on Hello

    Don't be absurd. It is almost certain they'll be genetically modified to be less independent than the original host. They make a better clone army that way. ;) Also, hi and welcome! (Can I say welcome yet? I just barely got here myself...) Anyway, saw your character in the Tavern of Legend; I like her already. lol
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