Leaderboard

ACCEPT REJECT PARTICIPANTS LAURENT DUBOIS GRIGORI GAGARIN SETSUKO ERI ALETHEA GILYA

Overview Ogre Assault Mechs, traditionally known as Ogres, are heavy armour robots primarily deployed by the Terrenus Military. On average, they stand at about 20 feet tall, and possess roughly humanoid proportions to a varying degree. All units, with some exceptions, are powered by a single Exalta core, typically secreted away in the spine or somewhere along the back. They are piloted from a cockpit housed in a fortified torso, with an ejection mechanism installed to save pilots from an emergency. Pilots are outfitted with a specialized suit that establishes a direct neural interface with the mech. This link enhances their spatial awareness to match the Ogre’s bulk, in addition to lending an intuitive sense of how to operate its systems. A supporting AI permits Ogres to behave autonomously, though its true purpose is to facilitate information transfer between the pilot’s brain and the machine. Should excessive data feedback occur, pilots can suffer permanent brain damage. Profuse nosebleeds and muscle paralysis are reported as common symptoms. All Ogres, as a rule, trace their roots back to the original OAM-N (Neutral) Frame. This is to ensure equipment compatibility throughout generational development. As a result, most Ogre technology can be equipped interchangeably, with exceptions based on frame-specific requirements. Base Frames Ogres usually come equipped with a primary and secondary weapon, followed by an optional melee weapon. Sensor arrays are located on the chest, shoulders, and in head-like devices, which offer a variety of vision options, including thermal and infrared. Further equipment customization is solely dependent on personal preference. AI personalities can be modified to suit the pilot's needs. They range from vocal to silent, and anything in between. Limited Victory ASI modules provide supplementary functions. These include logistics management, communication assistance, biometric monitoring, and remote telemetry. OAM-W (Warrior): The Warrior is by far the most prolific design to have ever been produced. It is flexible in its armaments, a jack-of-all-trades, and is both sturdy and agile without excelling in either department. The frame stands at 24 feet, boasts a pair of twin auxiliary thrusters, and is a respectable choice for any aspiring pilot who aims for versatility above all else. OAM-S (Scout): As its names implies, the Scout specializes in speed and stealth. It is one of the smallest frames available, in both height and mass, peaking at 18 feet with thin, lightweight limbs. It sacrifices protection and firepower in pursuit of unparalleled mobility, frequently compensating for its frailty with auxiliary thrusters. In battle, the Scout is best suited to hit-and-run tactics, with a strong preference for medium to long-range weaponry. On the same token, more daring pilots will take advantage of its mobility to engage in close quarters. This is somewhat of a rarity, since many consider the tactic an unnecessary risk. OAM-T (Titan): Heavy, large, slow, cumbersome, the Titan was built to take a beating and give an even bigger one in return. Standing at a menacing height of 28 feet, its thickly armoured frame towers over every other model, with excessively destructive munitions being the bread and butter of its design. The Titan actually requires two Exalta Cores to operate, and can even be manned by two pilots simultaneously: one as its gunner, the other as its primary operator. Its function as an artillery unit makes it an invaluable asset on the field, but it can fill a variety of roles depending on its overall kit. OAM-C (Caster): The Caster is one of the rarer frames currently in service due to the steep production costs of its advanced magitech systems. It is best defined as a 21-foot-tall arcane artillery unit, relying on destructive spells in lieu of ballistic weaponry. It comes equipped with light armour to keep it mobile and to minimize overall energy consumption. Older models tended to deplete Exalta Cores very quickly, so engineers were forced to repurpose the majority of its energy systems. Now, the Caster is rarely a front-line unit, preferring distance where it can safely dish out damage. OAM-J (Javelin): The Javelin is similar to the Scout, in the sense that it’s small and lightweight. It reaches 18 feet on average, but a select few frames have undergone alterations to their base build. Every inch of its body has been streamlined for aerial combat, featuring stability thrusters in its hands and feet, the main engine being located on its back. The biggest draw of the Javelin is its ability to transform into a high-speed aircraft. Most frames take the form of a fighter jet, leaving bombers and helicopters in a very niche minority. External weapons, such as rifles, are not compatible with the Javelin’s transformable nature. As a consequence, its offensive capabilities are limited to built-in machine guns, rockets, and retractable blades. With flying being a vastly different experience from ordinary Ogre functions, military pilots must first graduate from flight school before enlisting in the Javelin’s unique training program. OAM-E (Experimental): Experimental frames are exactly that: experimental. There is no baseline for their design. Each frame’s properties are unique to themselves, almost always in the goal of testing new capabilities. Hybrids are not uncommon. As are non-humanoid prototypes. In terms of experiencing live-fire combat, however, Experimentals rarely see the light of day. For one, they are expensive to fabricate. Two, they are rarely suitable for practical application. There is also the investment of their singular design, which may be difficult to replicate should the frame be destroyed. Many Experimentals seen on the field are, in fact, previously retired units. They’re usually deployed during emergencies, or the common case of a pilot begging to be special. Pilots Thanks to the Ogres' neural interface, extensive knowledge is not required to effectively operate a frame. In spite of this, a year-long training program is mandatory in the Terran Military. This program will see participants spend 1000 hours in a simulated cockpit, then an additional 500 hours in a variety of basic training mechs. Once a pilot has graduated with their full certifications, they will be awarded an official callsign, as well as the opportunity to pair with an Ogre of their choosing. They retain any rank held prior to graduation, and may continue to work in their assigned department. Outside of the military, very few private companies manufacture their own Ogre frames.

Here's a place to dump funny stuff you see around the site, and memes. I'll bring up two of my favorites quotes The entirety of this thread: Memes. I'm sorry, most of my initial stock are in the context of Ursa Madeum. can't deny this. No longer very relevant but I loved the fashion war yes

Let me start off by thanking everyone who took the time to fill out the survey. Thank you Internally we're still discussing some of the finer points of the data, and I've separated the long form text responses into a separate discussion which involves more standardization so as to make the data anonymous (or near enough) as well as easily digestible (more signal, less noise) You'll see more updates on that, and the graphs for the below will be released separately to increase engagement, but here are the summarized results to share a great deal of the data in a fashion (I think) conducive to conversation (without the burden of expectation to engage in conversation) Based off 42 responses Most people (41%) take 30 minutes to post; the second largest group (26%) takes 1 hour Most people (29%) come here for the IC (a 1); the second largest group (21%) come more for the IC but also lean OOC (a 4) Most people (50%) access the site on PC; the second largest group (45%) on mobile Most people (98%) think Valucre loads quickly (according to their subjective experience) Most people (62%) find Valucre's lore has the answers but requires effort to get to those answers; the second largest group (38%) finds the answers easily Most people (52%) think Valucre's lore is unique; the second largest group (38%) think Valucre's lore is familiar but uncommon Most people (60%) like to read fantasy; the second largest (14%) like to read sci-fi Most people (62%) like to write fantasy; the second largest (12%) like to write sci-fi Most people (67%) prefer groups 3-5 in size; the second largest (26%) prefer one-on-one Most people (75%) have roleplayed on forums/bulletin boards for more than 2 years; the second largest (10%) for 1-2 years Most people (52%) have roleplayed on Valucre for more than 2 years; the second largest (16.7%) for 1-2 years Most people (69%) prefer collaborative combat; the second largest group (24%) prefer turn-based combat Most people (83%) enjoy character interaction the most; the second largest (14%) prefer exploration Most people (36%) heard about valucre through word of mouth; the second largest groups tie at 26% and are Search Engine and Topsite list

Table of Contents First Volume, Creation Second Volume, Formation Third Volume, Ruin Fourth Volume, Cosmic Peace The Beginning Boljimir, the All-Creator Lailah's Demise Rumination Foreword Habitation O████ Incineration Expansion Glossary Iao, the First Ojurian Speech Eclipsed Nurture Sacraments Karael League Sofiel’s Awakening Elysium Welcome, reader. Call me Evalise. I am knowledge and history in its comprehensible form, and I am the creator of this compendium. Here you will find all there is to know about us, the [REDACTED]. Please be advised that whilst we coexist with other divinities in this vast universe, they will not be mentioned in this collection. We respect their creation, theologies and followers. They have their own domains, and this is ours. Reader, this compendium is to help you understand us. My precursors are not easily fathomable, and therefore, I will make them as such with the best of my ability. My fellow kin is complex but soon you will learn that we not enigmatical as some claim us to be. You shall see that our tales parallel your own. Clarity: this is my gift to you.

May I offer a meme in these trying times?

The ground yawns open beneath your feet. You suddenly find yourself falling, hurtling through shuddering clouds and a strange maroon sky. You only have a moment to take notice of this before your body explodes with pain. Darkness claims your vision. You awaken to the sharp sound of water lapping against a river shore. The metallic tang of blood mingles with the bitterness of dirt on your tongue. Your limbs feel like lead. It takes a few moments to push yourself up in a sitting position. The world spins around you, blinding specks of light sparkling against your eyelids, but your balance realigns itself. “Are you four alright?” a whispery voice exclaims. The question is accompanied by the sound of gentle footfalls, soft against the faint crackle of grass trampled underfoot. You take in your surroundings. You and three other people lie sprawled on the ground a few paces from each other. A woman in a tattered green suit hurries in your direction, a man limping behind her. Both of them wear strange, brightly-colored masks that partially conceal their faces. “Did Stargate send you?” the man asks, his coat whipping violently in the wind. His voice is heavy with anger. A tree stretches frail branches towards the sky in the direction they came from. Directly to the WEST, the glassy river murmurs. It snakes NORTHWARD. To the NORTH, mountains cast shadows on a kaleidoscopic forest. To the SOUTH, a strange shimmering nothingness blankets the horizon, stretching to the heavens. @Wade @SweetCyanide @vielle @jaistlyn

Alright, after that lengthy disappearance and all.... I will be dropping a few severely owed posts later on this morning, and from then on will be Sunday nights and Thursdays for my posting days until after finals (May 1st). (My class schedule changes every 5 weeks). If I owe you some writing, please send me a PM if you would like me to continue there. I do have a list, but it's going to take me some time to go down it and read every thread it contains to see how things are going in them. Thank you guys.

Standardized Artifact Rules The old artifact thread can be found Here. Given that this is woefully out of date and the revamp of the artifact system, I’m looking to slim down my current artifact list to 13 items. Of the current list the following have made the cut, i’d Love input from you folks on 1) if any others should be included or (and preferably) 2) What sort of artifacts would you be interested in hunting in a Alterion. This is not only an opportunity for you to create some unique and cool weaponry but to directly alter the lore of Alterion as all artifacts will Have a substantial lore connection. decay blades fenrisulfr the highwind jormungandr the minotaur radiant mantle riva's greatsword

ya girl turns 19 today, a step up from barely-legal status 😂 it's progress!

@Thotification @Fierach @Tyler @Grubbistch @HollowCipher @EpicRome23 @sorainvoked @princeben07 @bfc @Roen @P.N.See @SelenaNichole @zackrobbman @ChaosLord @Akiris @vielle @Veloci-Rapture @Dolor Aeternum @notmuch_23 IC is here: This is a meet-and-greet intro round, there is no posting order. Post as many times as you wish. Feel free to interact with each other, and bring your characters up to speed, or bring new characters in. The first two realms will be starting in about two weeks. (I might have decreased activity from 18 to 28 April as I'm hosting some relatives at my place.) There will be no combat for this round, so no need to worry about your dice or stats yet. To give an idea of what to expect, there will be 6 nightmare realms, 2 will take place simultaneously at any time, so each character will go through 3 realms, plus this intro, and conclusion. Plan the usage of your limited special attacks well! There are about 30 characters, so there will be ~15 characters in the first two realms. The split will be done randomly, and that will also mean that you will be playing with different players for each realm. I've asked the GMs to keep each realm to about 4 to 5 rounds. Each realm will be separated into different IC threads, but proceed at roughly the same time. As mentioned, something will happen if you reach 0 HP. You'll find out what it is later. For the nightmare realm GMs: @HollowCipher @zackrobbman @Akiris @EpicRome23 @ChaosLord @Veloci-Rapture: I will let you know in PM the order of your realms. Each round lasts 2 weeks, and you should post at the start of the round. I leave it up to your availability and plot if you want to post multiple times per round. If no post is made in 2+ weeks, I'll post on your behalf to keep things going. If I post for you, I'll try to keep to your plot but no guarantees on how well I'll do on that front. Post away!

Hello :) my name is Dawn and I came across this site from TopRPSites. Ive been in the roleplay community since I was 12. I started with forum rp, went to gaming rp, and am looking to get back into forum rp. I'm excited to get started and create a great character that I hope y'all enjoy. Oki that's all have a good day :)

HELLO. Hover over highlighted text for more details. Ask questions in this thread when instructions are unclear. What do they know? @Wade @SweetCyanide @vielle @jaistlyn

OOC Character sheets The glowing lights of several campfires dotted through the camp. Day by day, their forces were getting stronger, the walls higher. People settled into a routine, and it almost seemed as if the worst was over. The first few days had been the toughest, as the original team that made it across the Broken Plains struggled to protect what limited resources they had left. Two out of four supply wagons that they had brought with them were destroyed in an attack by Yh'mi's creatures. The most devastating damage had not been caused by the massive Chhitten Magnus heading the attack, but by three Twistlings that had snaked their way into the group disguised as Norkotian soldiers. The White Hand paladin Fidelitas decided to press on despite their losses. After arriving at the hill of the Furthest Point, their main priority was to build a defensive wall that would slow any would-be attackers and give them time to react, rather than leave themselves vulnerable from all sides. They were able to dispose or drive back the dark creatures of Yh'mi that had tried to overwhelm them, with minimal injuries. The second wave of defenders that arrived from Inns'th brought relief, in terms of both more fighters and more supplies. The walls were expanded outwards to support the growth, and now close to fifty people were encircled within the walls. Fidelitas allowed himself a small moment of pride as he looked over the camp from its center. It was time for dinner and rest, and people were systematically handed their food, others were getting ready for their watch, or moving into their tents. But this was no time to slack, he reminded himself. They were in the most dangerous region of Terrenus - possibly the whole of Valucre - and their small foothold on the Furthest Point was still tenuous at best. He returned to the task at hand. "Double walls, surrounding the crest of the hill," he used his fingers to indicate two circles on the paper. "Wooden on the outer one, stone inner. If the outer wall is breached, we can use arrows tipped in fire and burn it down, bring some of the enemies down with it." The woman sitting across from him nodded - she was one of the two White Hand paladins that had led the second wave of defenders to their position. Fidelitas clapped her shoulder in appreciation. Then he stood up and banged his sword against shield to gain attention. "Everyone," he shouted. "Good job thus far. We'll start on the fort proper first thing tomorrow. Get a good night's rest, and always, stay vigilant and report any suspicious activities, even from your neighbours. Don't wander off alone. We don't want a repeat of twistling attacks."

This thread will serve as a continuation of the archived Rulers and Activity Needed thread. Rather than having several recruitment threads scattered about the forum or information board, this can serve as the universal hub for interest checks and requests based out of Genesaris. This original post will serve as a master list. If you have a roleplay opportunity that you would like posted, either send me a PM or post here (but be sure to tag me so I see it) and I'll update the list. Once you've found all the people you'd like to have in the story, let me know and I'll remove it. I will also use this thread to post land grabs, major events, or promote fun activities that I see popping up around the board. Opportunities Land Grab: Arlais Island. Land Grab: Unnamed Island (formerly Nvengaria).

Over the past two weeks or so desolate and I have made some pretty tremendous headway in setting up an environment that we can migrate Valucre to with minimal downtime Part of the process will take hours to complete. When done, since this involves DNS changes, it will take a few more hours to fully replicate globally. Some of you will have access before others but by Saturday morning my hope is that we'll be on a server with comparable resources at a much lower price and with more control in our hands as administrators. This will hopefully see, not only the end to any of the performance issues we saw late March, but provide for a long-term, sustainable environment for the site Reminder that we're not running an enterprise shop here. Save your content, wish me luck, and good luck to you too

~April Fools Post~ Nu Delo... Little did anyone know that another menace to order and sanity was also in the city this day, lurking in the shadows, picking off citizen, defender and attacker alike. Dressed in not but a cheap, black robe and wielding a neon green, plastic wand, the young man with emo-hair combed over his eyes was having the time of his life. You see, it was his life's goal to impose his crazed ideals of chaos and ridiculousness upon the citizens of this world, especially those who took themselves oh so seriously. A massive war filled with death and destruction like this, while villains were raging and giving rambling monologues, and while heroes were giving dramatic speeches and being all overly goody-too-shoes, was a prime draw for a man such as he. All these folks who thought themselves so powerful, so important, so... serious... But why so serious? Perhaps people would ask themselves that soon, or maybe they'd just get mad, either way was fine for wizarding punk who called himself "The Cursor". So long as he could troll the world in the most absurd and annoying ways possible, he would be satisfied. Among his first victims were fleeing civilians in the outskirts of Nu Delo, but soon he spotted Paragons emerging from the city, shooting down stray survivors with their various magic. One such Paragon was Shane Haydes, who was planning on entering the next town of Parrish on foot, rather than announce his arrival to all the defenders using the Cult's smoke teleportation technique. Better to arrive more stealthy, or so he planned. When the strange fellow dressed in black jumped out from behind a tree in front of him, Shane thought for a moment that it was a joke. "AHA! It is I! The mighty Cursor! Bane of the adventurer, the hero and the villain alike! Vexer of the--" "Buddy, are you for real?" Shane interrupted the attempted dramatic introduction. "Yes, of course I am for real! As you shall now see! AHA!" Before Shane could react, the Cursor had whipped out his pathetic toy wand, firing a bolt of greenish energy that struck the Paragon of Fire square in the chest. One minute, Shane was facing the man, the next... he was looking back at Nu Delo? "Ehhh?" It took him a minute to figure it out, but he soon realized his entire head was on backward... somehow. "What the hell did you do to me!?" "Aw, don't take it so serious, friend. You're one of the lucky ones today! Ta ta, now!" the Cursor cackled, before diving behind a tree. By the time Shane got turned around to try and find the guy, he was already gone. Apolypse... Chaos travels fast, and doesn't always make a lot of sense in how it gets around. Not long after having left his mark on the outskirts of Nu Delo, the Cursor appeared once more, this time on the opposite side Nu Martyr, in the slowly crumbling city of Apolypse. Here he came across a sight that was just begging for his attention. A standoff between a gun-totting woman, two mysterious humans, and a dragon. Oh, and there appeared to be a fifth individual, a sparkling psychopath hell-bent on attacking the dragon. She would be first. "AHA!" An impressively well aimed blast impacted the Paragon of Absurdity midair, though the Cursor didn't wait to see the effect before he had already switched attention to the others. "IT IS I! The CURSOR! Bane of adventurers, heroes, villains and all other manner of important folk!" Without further hesitation, he began hurling curses at the others in the party, starting with the woman with the gun (because those people are dangerous), then the two she was pointing it at, then finally at the dragon splattered on the ground beyond them. "Ah ha ha ha ha! Enjoy!" he cackled, before diving through a nearby building window (shattering it) and vanishing from sight. Results (d4 for length, due to slow thread): @Thotification @vielle @Metty //(This was discussed in Discord, for full disclosure.)//

I’ve been toying with the idea of cybernetic talismans (think a ghost from Destiny). These little constructs of magic and science that would bind with an individual and allow them particular feats. I was initially thinking ability wise it would be on par with the DC power rings ie. green represents will power, in addition to being able to conjure whatever you imagine via energy you’d have a type of Jedi-mind trick ability. These are definitely not the droids your looking for. yellow - fear - energy conjuration, instill fear (some scarecrow level shit) red - rage- energy conjuration, manipulate someone’s rage, you could easily turn a party into a bloodbath with a few words and never lift a finger.

It's time, ladies and gentlemen and others! Tales of Redemption is Open for Entries! Here's a refresher on the definition of "Redemption" we'll be working with: Redemption doesn't have to be big or totally transformative, but it does imply a moral shift in behavior or perspective. Your main character doesn't have to go from being a devil to an angel in 2000 words, but someone should probably become at least a little less awful for at least a small, significant moment. HOW TO SUBMIT AN ENTRY: PM me with "Tales of Redemption" in the subject line, along with the title of your story and a word count. I will respond when I have received it, but please give me 72 hours before poking me; life things happen to me with a disturbing frequency (see: intended contest opening on April 1st). OFFICIAL RULES: 1) Submissions will be accepted from now until midnight on April 29th! The entries will be posted in random order on April 30th, and voting will open May 1st! 2) Maximum length is 2000 words. There is no minimum word count. 3) Stories can have any tone, from grimdark to flight-of-whimsy, as long as the central theme is redemption. 4) Entries must be original, unused work. Do not plagiarize, and definitely don't plagiarize yourself. I will be checking. 5) YOU ARE SWORN TO SECRECY! Your submission must be known only to you and to me. Do not give anyone any information that they could use to easily identify your entry. 6) One submission per participant. Revisions or substitutions will be allowed up until the deadline, but only one entry per contestant will be posted. 7) Please double-check your formatting. The only editing I will do to an entry is to fix any errors that happen with the copy/paste function. 8 ) Entries MUST HAVE A TITLE. I refuse to post a dozen stories all named "Untitled #1", "Untitled #2", "Untitled #3", like happened in Spinal Chills a couple years back. That was maddening as a participant, and probably would have been maddening as a voter, and in any case it's my contest so it's my rule. Give it a title. PRIZES: Prizes depend on the number of entries received by the deadline. Five or fewer entries: 1st Place: A custom user title, courtesy of @supernal! (if the winner already has a custom user title, then we'll come up with something different and cool, but I just now at this very second thought of this problem, so that's my bad.) Six to Ten entries: 1st Place: $15 Amazon gift card, courtesy of @Veloci-Rapture! 2nd Place: A custom user title! Ten to Fourteen entries: 1st Place: $25 Amazon gift card! 2nd Place: $10 Amazon gift card! 3rd Place: A custom user title! Fifteen or more entries: 1st Place: $50 Amazon gift card! 2nd Place: $25 Amazon gift card! 3rd Place: $10 Amazon gift card! Honorable Mention: A custom user title! [NOTE! Gift cards require a valid e-mail address to send them to, so be prepared to provide one!] WORKSHOP THREAD: Finally, if you've got questions of a general "how do I write stuff goodly?" variety, come on over to the Spring Contest Workshop Thread! It's been pretty dull so far, but I'm hoping we can give out lots of advice as the timer ticks down! Don't be afraid! Let's have a great contest! Give Valucre your best shot at a TALE OF REDEMPTION!

:D Another one! CLUES ON THE PAGE The blocked out word in the Table of Contents starting with an O links to a password-protected tumblr page: https://ouhefogrtht.tumblr.com/ Notably, Ouhefogrtht is an anagram of "Forethought" "HO AUOAA'S A'RNOCAAURL" is placed in low contrast colors on the UAOS Banner. I think this may be a code of some sort. It's def not a caesar cipher. Anyone know a code that uses a limited number of letters? O, U, and A repeat a lot in that message Removing the letters in "UAOS" from the above code results in HRNCRL. Not sure if that's significant. BANNER CODES Hovering over the banner photo (The UAOS Compendium) results in this: AABBBBAABBBAABBABBBBBAABA BAABABAABBBBAAAABABBAABAABAABABABAABABBBBABBB AABBAABAAABAABBAABBBBABAAAAAAB ABAAAABBBA BAABABAABBAABAAAABBAAAAAAABBABABBBAAABBABAAABAAAAAABBBBAABBBBBAAA Decoding using Bacon cipher: HTTPSSTYLESUXXGITHUBIOSTEGANOGRAPHY It leads to http://stylesuxx.github.io/steganography/. Inputting the banner photo in the decode section reveals this: 432118N 422631E Inputting these coordinates as 43°21'18"N 42°26'31E landed me somewhere in Russia. Specifically, Kabardino-Balkaria, Russia ... and that's it. I'm at a dead end for now, but the overall theme of the ARG is wonderfully distinct and different from GM's computery angle, Obby's ... honestly I don't know what Obby's going for, and Mr. E's riddles and number puzzles. IC ANALYSIS Evalise, the creator of the Compendium, is "knowledge and history in its comprehensible form" --> I love more abstract RP concepts so this is v cool! Getting some Great Old Ones/Cthulu Mythos vibes from the Compendium in general: "this compendium is to help you understand us. My precursors are not easily fathomable, and therefore, I will make them as such with the best of my ability. My fellow kin is complex but soon you will learn that we not enigmatical as some claim us to be. You shall see that our tales parallel your own." INCORRECT PASSWORDS Uaos Ouhefogrtht Forethought 432118N 422631E HO AUOAA'S A'RNOCAAURL HRNCRL I think I've tried more but I haven't remembered them all.

in the midst of current hardships, i cannot write, but i can think, and therein lies the difference: ideas flow forth when the mind is forced idle 👀 new Hildebrand machinations soon ❤ other posts either later on tonight or on Monday 🙏

Hey y'all. It's been awhile. So, just a quick update from my last one...Forever ago. I managed through the emotional turmoil of being rejected by my husband(good lord soon to be EX husband finally) and I got myself a boyfriend! Well. New/old boyfriend. Anyways. Things have been going amazingly. So well that I'm a paranoid freak over being in a relationship again xD Since things have finally settled and I'm very happy finally, I am working on my own personal demons when it comes to writing. Since being VERY disconnected for a long time, randomly posts have been forming in my head. Which is a step in the right direction finally. I think I am going to set myself up with an RP partner to write ONE thread at a time, and make sure said partner kicks me in the ass to reply. I'm on the way, folks. I'm coming back.

On one of James's swords is inscribed the phrase, "What is the terror of Death? That we die, our work incomplete", and on the other side "What is the joy of Life? That we die, knowing our task is done" What he wants is the next fight, the next challenge, the next task in his ongoing fight to keep the forces of Chaos and Destruction at bay. He accepts the terror of death, knowing that one day he will die as all mortal men do. What he needs is the joy of life, knowing that he lived to the fullest, creating a legacy that will endure whether through the Force Majeure and others like them, or through a bloodline of heirs to his family's powers, martial prowess, and will.

attackers: samael, ephah, rami | city of apolypse "HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, YOU THREE! PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM AND DO NOT TURN AROUND!" Samael halts in his stride, causing the two hot at his heels to follow suit. Ephah watches in mild confusion as the boy angles his head to the side, wordlessly asking her to do what she does best. From beside her, Rami’s mouth slants in amusement. “Gods, what is it now,” she murmurs under her breath, casts out her power in hungry, seeking tendrils in the direction of the voice behind them, and there, there. There it is. The woman’s blood thunders loud in her veins, and Ephah has to draw herself away from the temptation of delving in too deep, too fast, lest the crimson siren call threatens to overwhelm her. It would be so easy now to simply fold the blood vessels into themselves, or to heat the red tide within the woman’s body and boiling her alive, or to let her dance on puppet strings of her own lifejuice tugging her along and shooting herself in a betrayal of one’s own will. So many wonderful ways to choose the manner of this stranger’s tragic end; it almost makes her salivate in anticipation. However: Samael tilts his head sharply, as if reading the thoughts curling insidiously inside her head. She grits her teeth but holds her ground, waits for the signal to proceed. “Now, now, madame, what’s this?” Rami croons as he raises his hands in the air in some form of surrender, ultimately ruining her plans by opening his big mouth. “Why this hostility?” She pointedly does not reenact her morbid imagination on her fellow Paragon, lest he prove himself to actually be useful instead of causing a scene such as this. They don’t have time for this. “We can all go about this in a civilized manner,” the sand-haired man continues, overly polite where there is no reason to. Ephah narrows her gaze, opens her mouth to retort when— A blur pierces through the darkened clouds, lands on a rooftop and slams into a satellite dish with a sickening crack. All attention shifts to the noise of crumbling debris. The dragon begins shouting and cursing at itself, and in the sudden cacophony, Ephah feels something in the air shift: a phenomenon she recognizes as Samael’s entry into the Mirror Realm, whatever that is. True enough, the boy has disappeared from the forefront of the group, and she resists the urge to sigh in despair. Samael leaving them to deal with this madness—leaving her to deal with Rami—is not quite what she had in mind for the matter at hand, but he is now mist in the wind. They’ll have to catch up with him soon enough. With that, she turns her attention back to the woman and the dragon, Rami regarding the winged creature with curious glee. “Well, well, a dragon here, of all places? Why, it rather tickles my funny bone!” Ephah closes her eyes in an attempt to shut out her vision of his idiocy, clenches her fists, and weaves her influence through the veins of the two strangers, ready to strike from within if it calls for such an attack. @Tyler @Metty

Current day... The squad was fairly spread-out once again, save for one major change that had been implemented on Lieutenant Precht's orders (which were orders relayed down from Major Krieger, the man in overall command of Norkotian forces in Yh'mi). All Norkotian soldiers were now required to operate in a buddy system at all times, and were only allowed to go outside of secured zones in groups of four or more. This was in order to combat future Twistling infiltration, which Krieger would not tolerate happening in the future. Murray's squad had drawn straws to see who went with who, since most of them didn't really like each-other enough to give a shit. So when Charlie decided to make his move on Melanie Winter, she was not alone. Sitting across from her was one of the non-criminal Rangers, a rather boisterous ex-mercenary named Hudson. He appeared to be the most battle-read, with a suit of some sort of armor (likely acquired outside of Norkotia) one of those nasty Jorgerson Submachineguns (one of which had been used to great effect against the wagons by the twistlings days ago). Though he didn't actually try to stop Charlie's approach or anything, perhaps being as curious as Ed was about how badly this exchange could go... "Hm?" Melanie turned around, a certain wild, but oddly innocent curiosity in her eyes, "Wha--- Oh! You are on fire!" She smiled broadly as she stood up and snatched her flamethrower from where it was leaning against a crate. A couple flicks of switches and a small, blue pilot light appeared at the end of one of the tubes, which was there to ignite the flammable vapors when they were expelled through the main tube. "And you're not screaming in horror! Are you immune to fire? Is that even possible? Can I test it? Can I set you on fire? Will you let me set you on fire? I think I'm gonna set you on fire!" She babbled on in an almost childishly excited voice, before activating her looks-like-it-was-made-by-a-Canadian-redneck-with-ducttape-flamethrower and attempting to set Charlie on fire. Guess this relationship was off to a roaring start. Very steamy indeed. I mean the heat between them is almost tangible. Actually it is. It just melts the heart, doesn't it? Meanwhile, in the food tent... Somehow, Scoot had either gotten to be the luckiest (or least luckiest) man in the camp, having gotten paired off with one of the most attractive women in the camp. Unfortunately, she was also one of the woman most likely to end the manhood (if she's feeling generous) of any given man in the camp. But the draw (and your humble author would like to emphasize that it was a legitimately random pairing) had put the two of them together, which meant... well... maybe fate was trying to tell Scoot something? "So uh... Jessica..." "Don't call me that. I fucking hate that name, I much prefer Jessie." the ex-hitwoman replied, not even looking up from her rations. "Oh-uh, okay. So, Jessie..." "First name basis is a little too familiar, don't you think, Corporal Deckel?" she retorted. "Uhhh... okay, Ms. Briggs..." "Please refer to me by my rank, Corporal. I understand you outrank me, but I insist upon being afforded the title I am owed. Just because I am a woman does not mean you can disregard it." Jessie stated, still not looking up from her food. "Duh... so... Private Briggs--" "Private First Class." "Huggh... Private First Class Jessica--" "Jessie." "Private First Class Jessie Briggs!" Scoot practically shouted, slamming his palm against the table. Jessie finally looked up. "Yes sir, corporal?" "..." "..." "Uhhhhhh... I gotta tray of chicken...?"

New reactions courtesy of @jaistlyn! If you don't see them clear your cookies edit - btw i love them

>How do you know what we are? What if we’re just.. just humans? Kail looks pained, "No, no. Even the first was human. But it's possible you'll never elucidate. It can't be forced. so many Nomas have tried to force an elucidation. Never ends well." >Zombies! Monsters. I-I don’t know what. We need to go. Now! Kail and Reie are staring south. There is a distant look in their eyes as they watch the approaching figures. To the WEST, several bulges in the ground herald the arrival of more Under-Things. "Cajal limit's dropping," Reie says softly. Kail moves the shields carrying Reie close to her. The shards break into smaller pieces, rearranging to form a crude seat. Reie pulls himself up, settling in a more comfortable position. >You guys going to be okay for a run? The big guy and I can carry Reie if we need to. I mean, if keeping up that stretcher becomes too tiresome. "You four go on ahead," Reie says. He pulls his mask up over his face. "We'll keep those things from following you," Kail says. Her mask reappears, enclosing her head. She squares her shoulders, standing a little bit straighter. Reie leans forward, eyes fixed on the monsters. For a moment, you are able to catch a glimpse of what these two had been before their homeland had begun to die. Kail walks back toward the beasts, bringing Reie beside her. The mounds of soil are gaining speed. The ground ripples in their wake. Four slimy bodies claw themselves out in a spray of soil, snaking towards the pair. The five shambling figures move faster. Multiple mouths stretch across each body like gaping scars, dark red tar bubbling from every orifice. The acid stench of vomit grows stronger with each heavy step. It becomes all too clear this is a last stand. "Go, now!"

"You're pretty resourceful... Setsuko." Kail comments, eyeing the Under-Thing leg. >What exactly are you? They are silent for a moment. "... humans?" Reie says. Kail bursts into laughter. Her giggling lasts for half a minute before she wipes her eyes, choking out a response. "Humans! It's true! It-" She bites her lip, suddenly somber. She blinks, then touches the side of her head. "Ah, sorry. I think... it's getting worse. B-but yes, you're humans. We're humans. Just human." >We get—powers? "Through- uh-" Reie gestures vaguely. "Elucidation." "Hmm, yes." Kail blinks hard. "When you're- p-pushed past your limits. Your mind and body. Mind or body." She raises a palm, then clenches her fist. "Breaks. And your powers activate." "Ours was a bomb," Reie traces the scar on his face. His fingertips are gone. "My first shield was for him." "She was near-dead after. I healed her" They are silent for a while, leaning against each other. The screams in the distance grow louder. Kail sighs. "We'll deal with that when it gets there. But-" she points towards the mountains. "Follow the river. Through the forest. We used to have an outpost in the Breach- a canyon beyond the mountains. Maybe you'll find some of us still there." The screams grow louder.

>Pretty. Even on the inside. Reie’s a lucky a man Reie snorts, rolling his eyes. "No flirting with my wife." Still, the quip has a trace of humor in it. Kail smiles. She moves to brush a lock of hair off her face, her hand faltering as she feels the missing flesh. She grimaces, then lets her hand drop. >You called us ‘non-elucs’ earlier. What did you mean by that? I’ve never heard the term before Kail glances at Reie. He shrugs. "Non-eluc. Short for non-elucidated. You're like us, but your powers haven't activated yet," Kail simply says. "They'll probably get them soon, considering all the trauma Elendaron's throwing at us," Reie chuckles weakly. >You also called yourselves Skjold and Kore. The protector and the cure. Seems kind of important, if you ask me. Why the name change? Reie pulls his mask down under his chin. He's grinning. "Neat, aren't they? They were codenames to keep who we were secret, back before it all went to hell." "They don't matter anymore," Kail says quietly. "The others are all either dead or..." she taps her face, "Like us."

SUMMARY After respect had been paid to the arisen Empress, and a bit of unintended excitement had come and gone, the Inferno nation and it's people continued to celebrate through the late night and into the early morning. Without further hindrance to the festivities, the heir and his sister were placed to bed and the investigation of a new appearance was beginning its course. Who was this strange woman with her eyes bound, from the looks of it her feet as well. Was she mute, or was she simply silent? Had she taken a vow of silence? Why was she here? Perhaps Shuyi would have the answers he sought, perhaps Gwen might have seen something as well. Either way, the Emperor was going to find his answers, and when he did he'd deliver his verdict upon this woman whom was mysteriously marked by the number seven. Shichi. Nana.

The SQUAAAAAD Rides Again… Yesterday... Due to some inexplicable circumstances, Jack Murray’s Ranger squad had not been assigned any communication equipment when they were sent out to help protect the Furthest Point Expedition. Why this was, nobody was sure, though one can speculate it was because the idiots forgot to bring said equipment, or because they were intentionally never assigned any because their commanders didn’t want to waste said equipment on a people they were expecting to die anyway. Whatever the case, when the second wave arrived at the camp, the Norkotian forces accompanying the resupply wagons consisted of just a single squad of engineers and their gear. However, those engineers did have communication equipment, which they used to radio back to command and request replacement soldiers for Murray’s unit. Those replacements were scheduled to arrive today… But in the meantime, recently promoted (because there was nobody else left to promote) Corporal Scott “Scoot” Deckel, also known as the “cap guy”, was trying to pass the time by observing the engineers at work. Or something like that. “But chief, I’m fairly certain with the proper amount of research and study, we could learn why it is that this land rejects us, and find a way to make peace with it. Clearly many of these creatures have the rudimentary ability to reason, so perhaps if we--” the young, skinny, glass-wearing nerd of an engineer was explaining, before his sergeant cut him off. “Look buddy, we’re engineers, that means we solve problems. Not problems like, “Why is Yh’mi evil?”, because that would fall under the purview of religious theology. We solve practical problems. For instance, how are we gonna stop a horde of chittering mother-buggers from bustin’ in here and tearin’ us all some structurally superfluous new behinds? The answer?” Chief turned around and pulled a thirty-caliber machinegun from out of the crate behind him and dropped it with a loud thud on the workbench in front of him. “Use a gun! And if that don’t work…” He turned around again and pulled a fifty-caliber machinegun from out of the crate and dropped it with an even louder thud on the workbench next to the thirty. “Use MORE gun!” “Uh, but… how does that…?” “Now you just go plant yourself on that darn communication station thar’ mister, and leave the thinkin’ to me.” Deckel shook his head, wondering why command would send this sorry bunch of losers out into a place like this. But he supposed that not everyone could be as daring and dashing as him. “SCOOT!” The sound of Murray’s voice from elsewhere in the camp reached the speedy man’s ears. This probably meant their replacements had arrived, and Scoot was eager to assert himself as Murray’s right-hand command shounter. Kicking up a small cloud of dust, Cpl. Deckel was off, bolting across the camp (nearly running over a person or two) and arriving next to Sergeant Jack Murray, his superior, and the only other Norkotian survivor of the original expedition force. Murray was now recovered from his injuries, though his mentality perhaps had not. He seemed a much more serious and graver man after watching his entire squad killed in front of him. Even when he was riding with bandit gangs in the Norkotian badlands, he had never seen a company so completely decimated as his had been. And what was worse, he was the leader, and thus, he was responsible. “Hey boss! Whassup?” Scoot inquired, as he skidded to a halt and kicked up even more dust. “Our replacements have arrived.” Murray pointed-out. A small Norkotian convoy had been admitted into the camp, consisting of two trucks, a jeep, an armored car and few horses. They were not here to stay, only to drop off reinforcements and supplies, before heading back to the Inns’th. A regular officer bearing the insignia of a captain stepped out of the jeep and approached the two Rangers. “Sergeant Murray?” the officer saluted, “Captain Smith, here to deliver your… heh heh… reinforcements.” “Heh heh huh, what’s so funny dare, captain?” Deckel wondered. “Hmm, was I laughing?” Smith feigned innocence, “Alright boys, unload them!” Some grunts riding in the jeep and the second truck disembarked, heading to the back of the front vehicle and pulling down the tailgate. A ragtag group of men and women were subsequently unloaded, eight in total. Except for the last two, all of them were cuffed and chained together. “Uhhh, is dere a reason our reinforcements are in like dat?” Deckel scratched his head. “Feast your eyes upon your new squad, sergeant.” Captain Smith mocked, “Except for Hudson and Wilhelm there, this is the best bunch of crazies and criminals the military had to offer. Command figured you were the only one capable of… handling them…” Murray may have been a little crazy, but he wasn’t a moron. The only reason these people were here was because command didn’t know what else to do with them. His old squad was kind of like that, but even so, most of those men were capable, semi-sane sorts. This group… The supply convoy left soon after unloading their passengers and gear (including the squad’s weapons), which also included a lieutenant that was supposed to be in overall command of both squads. He immediately called a meeting with Murray and Chief to get a full status report and get himself acquainted with his subordinates. In the meantime, Deckel was free to socialize with his new squadmates… Begin Suicide Squad-style intro scenes, except with people who actually have potentially useful skills and/or weapons. “So, yo a sniper, huh?” Scoot questioned. “Yes sirree! I’ve been shooting since I was just a kid, so it seemed a shame to not make a career out of it when I grew up. Why, I’d argue I was the best bounty killer on the Norkic Plateau not named Mara Mercer. Or, at least the highest scoring one.” the Ranger replied. “Uh-huh, sure. If yo so good, let’s see a demonstration.” Scoot pointed at a thick, cast-iron frying pan dangling from a rack across the camp. “No problemo!” the Ranger grinned, pulling out his single-shot, breech-loading rifle and taking aim. *BANG* A dent appeared on the pan. *DEFLECT* A chip was shattered off part of the nearby stone wall. *BOUNCE* A small whiff of dust was kicked off the ground. *CLANG* A divot appeared in a on a White Hand breastplate that was currently sitting in hanging from a rack in the supply depot. *PFFT* Scoot's hat went flying off his head. "Hey! What the!?" He turned around and rushed over to grab it, finding a gaping hole in the fabric, just above where his head might have been. "Oh... eh-heh, sorry about that." the Ranger chuckled sheepishly. "You damaged my hat! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" Well, maybe Scoot was in luck; one of the new squad members was a medic, so perhaps he could patch up the damaged hat with his stitching equipment. He found the supposed medic sitting near a fire, trying to avoid contact with everyone. "Hey, doc!" Scoot scurried over and hopped into a seat next to him, "Yo uh, you think you could patch something up for me?" "I-I-I don't think I'd be able to help you." the medic gulped nervously. "Wuh, why not? You're tha' medic, right? Com'n, all I need is my hat sewed up." Scoot explained, dangling the headgear in front of the medic. "I can't. P-p-please just leave me alone." "Hey, what gives? Isn't it yo job to help people, doc? Come on, you gotta have some sorta sewing supplies in 'dere somewhere." he motioned at the medic's bag. "N-no! I don't have anything that can help you!" the doctor protested. "Oh really, let me have a look 'den!" Scoot snatched the bag away, despite the doctor's wimpy attempts to stop him, "Let's see we have... a tiny metal hook? A miniature mirror? And... what's 'dis!?" "It's dental floss! I keep t-t-telling you people! I'm not a doctor! I'm a dentist!" the poor "medic" proclaimed. "Wuuuuhhh..." Well, Deckel got what he wanted. He stole Pvt. Knox's "dental floss" and that little metal poker thing and used them to temporarily stitch the hole in his cap shut. Now he was back to wandering the camp, and getting a little hungry while doing it. Deciding to head over and sneak some rations out of the supply tent, he adjusted his course toward the big grey tent that the Norkotians were using to store their supplies. However, before he could enter, someone abruptly stepped into his path. "Hold it right there, maggot! This area is restricted to authorized personnel only!" The man in Deckel's path was another of the new arrivals. A gruff man in a grey Norkotian soldier's uniform and a helmet that covered his eyes, this fellow appeared to be a dim-witted grunt if there ever was one. Over his shoulder he was carrying a homemade rocket launcher, constructed of mismatched (but sturdy-looking) pikes, fittings and miscellaneous metal components. "Ya know, uh... I'm a corporal, so that means I outrank you. So, I order you to step aside and let me in!" Scoot puffed out his chest. "Negatory, sir! My orders come from the top! No one is to access this tent unless carrying expressed written orders from Lieutenant Precht!" "What? Who's dat?" "The commanding officer of the 1st Expeditionary Platoon. Now, return to your post immediately, or I will report you for loitering!" the domineering soldier barked. Well, this was a problem. Scoot was hungry, but he had no rations handy. He needed to get in that tent, but this bozo was not going to let him. Luckily, Scoot was an expert at outrunning nitwits like this! "Hey look, a chhitten!" he suddenly pointed in a random direction. "WHERE!?" the grunt instantly pivoted in that direction. Deckel promptly charged into the tent, snatched some rations, then tried to scurry back out. Unfortunately, he either overestimated himself, or underestimated the soldier, as he was met with a trench shovel to the face the moment he tried to emerge. *CLANG* *THUD* "OW!" "So, you're trying to steal the BREAD, are you!?" the soldier growled, reaching down and reclaiming the stolen rations, "Looks like we got a traitor!" "Uh wut...?" the dizzy Scoot groaned. "Any last words, maggot?" the grunt inquired, lowering the barrel of his rocket launcher at Scoot. "Duh-huh!? Wuh-wuh, no way! You don't need to do that!" Deckel scrambled to his feet and made a run for it, "WWWAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" The grunt just lowered his rocket launcher and snickered as Scoot made tracks. "Muh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh." So by now, Deckel was getting a little tired of dealing with his new squadmates. But his spirits brightened when he realized that the next one up was a girl. Girls were supposed to be sweet, kind and understanding (except for drow), as Deckel understood them, so surely he would not run into the type of problems he ran into with his male compatriots! And better yet, the woman he was approaching was a real looker, with long, wavy brown hair, a well-toned figure, and an attractive face. Though, her choice of clothing was a bit odd, admittedly. Her wardrobe choices included a pair of grey cargo pants, a black t-shirt, a grey flatcap and a white nasal strip (allergies). A chrome lever-action rifle with a black, synthetic stock was slung over her back, while in her hand she was holding a square stone of some sort. Well, Scoot didn't have a bucket of chicken (his traditional flirting method), but that wasn't gonna stop him. "Heh-hey 'dere. 'Sup?" he sat down and lounged in place, "So, what's a lovely lady like you doin' in a ugly place like 'dis?" "Serving my time." the woman replied, "And I don't find this place ugly." "Oh, uh, well... sure, yeah, I agree with ya. Not ugly! That's just what da others say, but... heh, yeah, whatta they know?" Scoot laughed it off, "Say, maybe I could give ya a tour of the base... maybe take ya up on the walls. See all the not-ugly sights?" "I can find my own way around." the woman replied. "Uh... oh, I mean, yeah sure... I wasn't doubting you ability for a second. I was just thinking..." Scoot trailed-off as the woman pulled out a large blade and began sharpening it on a sharpening stone. "Uh... uh, nice sword." "It's not a sword, it's a machete." the woman rolled her eyes. "Oh, machete, right, right... wait, why do ya have a machete? Aren't those for choppin' jungle brush?" Deckel questioned. The woman abruptly stopped sharpening the blade and looked up at him. "Not where I come from." "What do you use them for where you co--" Deckel started to ask. *WHOOSH* *THUD* Scoot went deathly silent as the machete was suddenly thrown the distance between them, embedding in the stump he was sitting on... right between his legs. Had it landed just a little higher... "Oh, uh, yeah! Yeah, that makes sense!" Scoot laughed, now starting to sweat, "Here, lemme get it... out..." He tried to pull the machete free of the wood, but his noodle arms (Charlie was right about one thing this trip) could not wrench it free. This prompted the woman to stand up, walk over, grab the handle, and rip it free. Without another word, she walked back to her previous seat and resumed sharpening it. "Yeah uh, well... nice meetin' you." Scoot rubbed the back of his head nervously, as he stood up and quickly exited. The woman finally cracked a smile now that Scoot was gone, as she rubbed her finger across the blood-stained machete blade to test the sharpness. "I like this place." "Jeez, this day sucks..." Scoot grumbled. His hat was being held together by dental floss, his stomach was growling, his face was hurting, and his pride was hurting even more. He would take anything to brighten up this day. "Oof!" He accidentally bumped into someone who was going the opposite way he was. That someone was another of his squadmates, and as luck would have it, it was another woman. This one had long, raven-black hair and dark, bloodshot eyes, while tattoos of fire ran all up and down her arms. A tank of some sort was stretched to her back, while she was carrying a very long, oddly-shaped weapon. Still, she was pretty, in her own exotic, strange way. "He-heya beautiful! What's up?" he grinned stupidly. "Heya, flammable!" the woman smiled back, her eyes going wide, "The temperature!" She raised her weapon, prompting Deckel to realize it was a flamethrower. "Oh no! AAAAAAAHHHHH!" He didn't want something to light up his day like that! Needless to say, he was kicking up dust (again) as he ran for hills. Actually, heading for the hills around here is a bad idea, so he just decided to take that walk on the wall all by his lonesome. That left the woman standing there, blinking in confusion. "Aww... why don't boys like me...?" At this point, Deckel was about at his wits end. He'd had a bad enough day that the sight of the haunting, desolate, cursed landscape outside the fort was actually soothing, in a way. He stood there a while and just watched as the moon began to rise in the distance, at least until he caught a figure a bit further down the wall. They were wearing a cowboy hat, so they had to be Norkotian. And as their poncho blew in the wind, he saw the outline of a feminine figure. Oh right, there was one other woman among their new recruits. Well, three strikes before you're out, right? Slinking over to her, he leaned against the battlements and tried to look as macho as he could muster. She wasn't the prettiest of the three women in the squad, being a little older and looking a lot more weathered. Nobody knew her name, but people referred to her as "Blondie" based on her short, fair hair. A faintly glowing cigar hung from her mouth as her narrow eyes stared out across the barren landscape. "Heya babe, it's a bit lonely to be out here by yourself, isn't it?" Deckel spoke-up. There was no answer. "Yeah, uh, so... it's getting a bit cool tonight. Maybe we could head to the fires..." Still no response. "O-or we could just stay here, yeah. Dat's fine. So uh... has anyone ever told you that you've got beautiful eyes?" Still nothing. "Um... I like your hat?" "Bug." "Wut?" Suddenly, the woman cast her poncho aside and whipped out her revolver. *BAM!* There was a faint shriek of a chhitten squealing somewhere outside the walls. How the heck had she seen it, reacted so fast, and managed to hit it with a handgun? You know what, that's actually the least craziest thing Deckel has seen today. "You know uh, I'm think I'm just gonna... go to bed. Uh, good night." he sighed. Yeah, good night Scoot. Good night...

Fidelitas settled down into the routine of sectioning the meat. The bruised and bloody parts were cut away and put aside. It might not taste as good, but they could be soaked in salt first then cooked. With their limited resources, they couldn’t afford to waste anything. A commotion on the other side of the camp drew the paladin’s attention. He hadn’t sensed anything attacking, so that wasn’t it. “I’ll go check that out. I’ll be back,” he told Ed. At a glance, it was immediately obvious that things were not right. There were blackened spots on the ground and burnt corners of crates and tents. Fidelitas put his hand on one of these crates. It was still warm to the touch. He drew his sword before approaching the gathered group in the far corner. Just in time to see Challara’s fist collide with Charlie’s face. “Enough!” He bellowed. “What’s the meaning of this? Are you a bunch of children? This. Is not a joke.” He produced three scraps of cloth with the Norkotian badge on it, torn from the clothes of the twistlings who had been parading as Norkotians. The original owners of those clothes were most likely dead, probably eaten. He looked at the faces of those present. “Do you wish to die? I can end it for you right now, lest you get the rest of us killed.” He would make good on that threat if any of them exhibited signs of being corrupted by Yh’mi. I-i mean... B-bawk-bak-uuuuhh... Cock-a-doodle-doo-and stuff... Argh, crapsters. This is gonna be hard to explain... Listen, I--- Fidelitas turned to glare at the person who was making fun of the situation, but instead he was staring at a talking chicken. He did a double take. As he watched, the rooster suddenly grew human legs - notably naked ones. ”Look away! I don't like where this is going!" The paladin grabbed a spare cloth that someone had been using to clean their weapon and threw it to the chicken-man. The dirty cloth was too small to cover his entire body, but at least it would be large enough to maintain his dignity. “I don’t even want to know what happened,” he muttered. He pointed to Charlie, Challara and Deckel in turn. “You, you, and you. Too much energy to spare? I have work for you. Don’t forget that I hold your payment.” He would make them help with storing the meat. That would also give him a chance to keep an eye on the three, especially the man who had provoked the chhittens at the end of the last battle. - @Akiris @zackrobbman @Tyler @notmuch_23 @P.N.See In the vicinity of @Dolor Aeternum @SelenaNichole

Hello hello, I'm Bunny and I'm here to declare I am NOT a furry. I swear. Come on guys, stop staring at me like that I just like rabbits. NOT LIKE THAT! Alright forget it. Jokes aside, you can call me Bunny; I'm nearly 30, I've been roleplaying on and off for nearly twenty years. I like all kinds of roleplay, though like most I'm most experienced in the traditional 'fantasy' settings. My deepest inspirations are 80s and 90s JRPGs and anime, with things like Suikoden, Escaflowne, Record of Lodoss War, Legend of Crystania, The Weathering Continent, Amon Saga and of course Berserk really influencing the kind of characters I create and stories I try to tell. Look forward to roleplaying with you all soon!

@Csl , thanks for digging deep. Hint Password @elixir Next Step

>You mean no harm?! I didn't know I was signing up to be thrown like a rag doll into this... this...Where the fuck is this? Kail sighs, fingers pressed to her forehead. "Look. We're just as frustrated at this situation as I'm sure you all are. I promise we'll answer everything we can. We need to make sure you're not going to die from your injuries first." >That sounds...reasonable. So long as there aren’t any needles. "Yes, thank you," Kail says, relief clear on her face. She waves her husband forward, "Just fix them." Reie moves closer, lips pressed in a tight line, one hand extended. As he nears, you feel wounds closing and bones knitting together. The pain in your sides fade, injuries disappearing in seconds as your body is made anew. He stops by the young girl who has yet to speak. "Hey. Kid. Are you alright?" >Your family needs you. The couple freezes, as if the world has stopped turning for the both of them. In the briefest of pauses, a myriad of expressions flits across their faces: resentment, bewilderment, wariness. Kail shakes herself out of the haze, taking a deep breath as she regains her composure. "You're family, huh?" Reie lets loose a harsh laugh. "Of course," Kail whispers. She looks at the group. "Do you... have any powers?" >What. Happened. One of our..." the woman hesitates, visibly struggling to find the right word, "...colleagues, Stargate, transported you here. I'm guessing you all saw the message Officer Dubois did. That was...Well, it must have been Seer."

So not only is Challara pissed and hungry already, some dumbass comes by and throws a magical fireball that lights the pants of her Copper Valley Militia Battle Dress Uniform. More specifically, the bottom half of the left leg. Of course, the drow put it out quite quickly, but it still left a nasty burn. So Challara stands up, marches over to Charlie, who is sitting by, and talking to, Soryn and Selena (but mostly Selena). Challara catches that last pick-up line, and it doesn't really impress her, and it probably would make Selena roll her eyes. So the drow grabs Charlie under his left armpit and drags him back a couple feet. "Th' fuck ya think yer doin'?" Challara half-shouts, "D' ah nee'ta beat some sense int' ya?" @zackrobbman

REMINDER You saw it. You accepted.

The man lifts his eyes to the heavens. “Fantastic. Of course. They grabbed you lot and left all the explainin’ for us to do.” He stands silent, fists clenching and unclenching, before he responds. “Stargate’s the one who sent you. Has to be her. How else would you have fallen from the sky?” The woman lays a hand on the man's shoulder. He falls silent. “I’m Skjold. He’s Kore.” The woman says, her gaze distant. “The protector and the cure. Though… it doesn’t matter now, these names.” She sighs. “Kail Taravos. You can call me Kail.” The mask over her face blinks out of existence. The man’s face is disapproving. Nonetheless, he answers the question. “Reie.” His gaze darts to the woman. “I’m her husband.” Reie scowls when you stare at his leg for too long. “Reality degradation,” Kail says, by way of explanation. “A fancy term the Nomas cooked up for spiritual death,” Reie mutters. Kail sighs. "It may take some time to answer your question. Will you let Ko- Reie heal you first? We mean no harm." Reie stares at you. His frustration unravels, tenuous threads giving way to disbelief. "You really don't know anything? Stargate's a complete brat but Seer would've t'least sent one of her mind messages."

When Laurent wakes up, the obvious question comes to mind. Where am I? Each word is a pulse of his consciousness. He stands up, blinking away the dark slurring the boundaries of his vision. An alien world assaults his senses. He fixates on the word alien. Two people approach. Fear twists his insides into knots, but he also feels a tepid fascination. They ask him a question he doesn’t understand. “No,” Laurent says quietly, surprised at the croak of his own voice. “No.” This time it comes out in a familiar, smoky bass. “I don’t even know what Stargate is.” His eyes snag on the man’s left foot, pale and translucent. Fading. Like a ghost. “What is that?” His dark eyes flit between the strangely-dressed pair, then he glances at himself. He’s still wearing his correctional officer uniform. He instinctively reaches for his handgun, and he’s relieved when he finds the wood polish of its grip, sturdy and smooth, a perfect fit for his long fingers. “Who are you people?” His hand doesn’t stray from the gun’s hilt. There’s no menace in the gesture, just caution. He makes sure to capture this in his tone. “What is this place?”

@Thotification @Fierach @Tyler @Grubbistch @HollowCipher @EpicRome23 @sorainvoked @princeben07 @bfc @Roen @P.N.See @SelenaNichole @zackrobbman @ChaosLord @Akiris @vielle @Veloci-Rapture @notmuch_23 I don’t think we concluded if you’re joining yet, let me know if you are! Here are the mechanics of the thread. It is condensed into 3 main concepts: HP, Sanity & Skills. 1) Health Points (HP) When a character suffers physical damage, their HP is lowered. At tip top condition, they are able to perform 3 actions in a turn. As they get injured, their movements slow and they get less and less actions. Your number of actions for the turn is based on your HP at the start of your turn. You don't immediately gain an extra action after healing, only on the next turn. Every character starts with 5 HP. 2) Sanity Sanity affects your character's state of mind. The less sane you are, the more likely you are to miss or damage yourself, or even attack your team mates. I leave it to each of you as to what low sanity means for your character. Sanity rolls are applied per action, so if you use your first action to increase your sanity, you can use the improved sanity for the next action. Characters who participated in the first arc starts from sanity of 4 due to mental exhaustion from the previous failure and prolonged stay in Yh'mi. Fresh characters start with sanity of 5. 3) Skills Unlike the previous round, your character has a set of skills that they draw from, which differs from character to character. Each character will choose a set of skills from the skills list below. This will form the list of actions that your character gets to choose from every turn. Everyone will get 3 normal skills. On top of that, characters from the first thread will get 3 special skills, and new characters only get 2 special skill. The extra 1 special skill represents the characters gaining experience from the last battle and being able to form a better strategy for this fight. Movement does not require an action, but the distance you can move per turn should make narrative sense. Choose the actions that fit your character's fighting style the most! Support characters (heal, buff etc) could be as useful as offensive characters. Normal skills (choose 3 for your character) - Has no usage limit. Can be stacked in that turn (e.g. attack 3 times). You can delay 1 action over to the next turn (e.g. if you have 3 actions, you can delay 1 action so you have 4 the next turn). Special skills (existing characters choose 3, new characters choose 2) - Each one of these actions can only be used 3 times throughout the thread. These actions are still affected by sanity, but if they miss or backfire, then they are not considered to be used. Use them wisely! Q: Can I choose an action not on the list when building my character's skills? A: Yes, but run your idea by me for approval please! Q: Can I change my skills halfway through the thread? A: I have no plans to allow for that right now, but if we find any of the skills problematic later on, I may allow a change. Example Combining 1, 2 & 3, I will give an example. Say my character has five skills (Attack, Defend, Meditate, Area Attack, Mass Rally.) Imagine he is at 3 HP and 2 sanity. He can perform 2 actions. Using the first action, I decide to Meditate (+1 Sanity). Because my sanity is at 2, I roll a d10, and get a 6 (success). My sanity is at now at 3. For my next action, I decide to Attack. I roll a d10 and get a 2 (miss). My actions are done. I write out these outcomes in my post.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe they do. Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe they don't. You're not part of my house, so you don't get to sit at the special table with special conversations ;x ❤️

I think this is a suitable compromise for those that want to bring in the elements of technology while staying true to the quasi-medieval aesthetic. (I see Ursa Madeum as a more Baroque style place, but that's just me.) It would feel...odd to make Ursa Madeum as a whole into a modern fantasy setting. It has themes that are heavily historical, and I prefer the option of staying in a historical fantasy setting than dealing with a technological arms race.

Yes. I'm ready whenever Notmuch is ready. Reverie is basically dead. I think everyone was waiting on Ataraxy, and he's... well I just don't expect Reverie to be the top of his list if/when he manages to get time to post. It might be worth someone wrapping it up and canonizing it if that is the intent. But I'm also open to the meeting yes. As one of those people who has been asking, I guess I feel like there needs to be a rational for it not to happen if it is not going to happen. If we want to prevent airports and power plants, then the question is "Why would they not be plausible here?" from an IC perspective. Is Veluriyam going to ban such technologies? If they do, that would make it far too easy for people to say that they are intentionally holding Ursa Madeum back and retarding progress that would be vital to recovering from Damien, meanwhile Taen is allowed to advance to modern technology without problem. Also the fact that state-sponsored House Singlance is at the forefront of the new technology wave, so restricting others while letting them go will be blatant hypocrisy, more fodder for the Anti-Veluriyam folk. The other restrictive option would be for there to be a loci of some sort that retards technology, like La Ruta in Orisia. But that would seem an odd turn for such a thing to emerge so suddenly, especially when it is the Taen Loci that is supposedly dominant here anyway. Because Ursa Madeum is supposed to be Taen Loci, it should then be expected that any tech that works in Taen will work in Ursa Madeum too. That leaves the last, and in my option, most logical option. Allow modern technology, but keep the medieval aesthetic. What does that mean? Think soldiers and nobles that wear medieval garb, but perhaps use guns that are ornately engraved or styled like medieval weapons. Vehicles that look like carriages. Buildings with modern amenities, but still styled in the classic medieval architecture. For example, one of my plans is for the main control tower for House Karradeen's airfield to actually be a medieval-style turret, just (eventually) rigged for electricity. Maybe someone else can come up with more variations of options, but those are the three I see as being most doable.

For anyone who thinks giant robots are cool: If you want one, go nuts. There's no submission process. This isn’t an artifact list, and so I'm not going to treat Ogres as such. That said, be mindful of how a frame came into your character's possession. Roughly 80 to 90% are owned by the Terran Military, in which pilots undergo a year-long training program before deployment. If you don't want to be a part of the military, that's cool. There are other ways to acquire an Ogre. Private companies, theft, scrapyard ingenuity, those are just a few ideas that readily come to mind. Just be reasonable. That's all I'm asking. Ogres aren't two-legged Death Stars you wrap up for your five-year-old's birthday. Otherwise, I'll be here to answer any questions. Suggestions are also welcome, as I'm still polishing the final concept. IMPORTANT EDIT: You guys don't have to ask me for one. Just go ahead and make a profile 🤙

Next week is my spring break and I made a promise to myself that I'll take the time for some mental R&R. Plus, I'm working on kickass lore (articles) for Andromeda's lot, which was supposed to be an ARG in itself but since we've got Mr. E's Obeli low-fiving a Grand Mainframe...

Hello, just joined the group. I had no idea about any of this, and haven't been following it. Then I get a strange message on my profile page and here I am. I came to the same conclusion of the answers being Seinaru Forven, and Draco South. I sent this to Obelus with a snarky little comment about if that's not correct I want to play an E for the hangman (since it looked like a hangman word game). As I said, I had no clue about all THIS that was going on. I just thought it was someone trying to be cute in order to just say hi. I didn't even click on the link of 'where' until Wily told me to after I'd already sent Obelus my response through PM. Anyway, here is what I got with this exact message: To perceive the whole, the narrative must be viewed with others. I thought this was just a cryptic message, but I clicked on it about a minute ago and it sent me to this ARG club. And here are the messages

and the final tally is.... 16 threads. oh boy that's a lot more than I thought I was in LOL fuck

Proprietor: Evienne Goldcourt Dali. Context Dali Designs has been a prominent name in Ursa Madeum’s Couture for centuries. Usually being tied to the Goldcourt branch of the house and armed with the Dali’s cloth manufacturing industry, it has been a reliable source of income and trends generation after generation. And, although the name has lost some of its clientele to the Uldwar house of threads with development of the panniered, corseted and pouf’d silhouette. With revolution comes new design philosophies, however, with Lady Evienne’s new slender silhouette, Dali Designs is once more creating waves. Purpose Embracing the natural form and moving towards freer less restrictive and more egalitarian clothing has always been the priority for Dali Designs, in step with the families more republican political views. As such even during Damien’s rule, and spearheaded by Prescot Goldcourt, Dali Designs promoted a simpler silhouette with the gaulle dress instead of the more elaborate court styles. With the fall of the empire, the mode has changed to simpler silhouettes borrowed from classical statues and portraits. The lack of rigidly boned stays, and the breathier fabrics have allowed for the ‘New Style’ to be afforded by all. No longer is what one wears dictated by their position in society, but whether they can afford it or not. Outlets. Mrs. Sedley’s Shop: In Andelusia, owned by a Mrs. Caroline Sedley, a former Opera girl. Almost exclusively sells designs from Dali, as well as cosmetics, hair pieces and other bobs. Dali Designs Atelier: Located three doors down from Mrs. Sedley’s Shop, a hub of activity and chaos. Affiliations The Andelusian High Tea Society, with a line of cosmetics called ‘Dear Dahlia’ being underworks. Investors: Goldcourt of house Dali. Quinton Swan.

@Sir Nathaniel _______________________________________________ Map Landonia House Belmore Music The Lord of Steelsward Gerold Belmore guided his courser across the sunlit land with an air of authority in his lungs. It was fresh, sweet, with drops of morning dew on the tongue and a crisp chill crawling up the nostrils. The sky was marble blue amid the white vessels that sailed it, with wisps of white wind wrapping round the Landonian Mountains just beneath, like ribbons twirling around a dancer. On the ground, or at least that of a floating island so high in the sky, spring green fields covered the expanse, plump with forests, woods and trees and bushes bursting with lush leaves. The great greenery was interrupted only by the sparkling sapphire of the River Vana, separating one side of the city from the other. Parading the water’s grace, the distant sound of Herald Falls was even fainter amid the sphere of activity, but serenity soared up the plummeting waters to greet the rider’s ears all the same. My home. My land. My Landonia. Homage trotted along without a care or concern for the pastures that embraced her, yet her rider and her master had long since learned to appreciate the keen senses of the steed. This is your home too. And you know it. Armored fingers curled into the white mare’s mane, caressing silver hair with a whinny of approval. Horse and rider, steed and master, the two had become and would remain an unbreakable pair in the time to come. With his castle at his back, Gerold sat in the saddle facing ahead, gazing through the outreaching ranks of soldiers and warriors, knights and retainers, spellswords and battlemages, priests and healers—all of them brave and stalwart defenders of Landonia. My kinsmen. My countrymen. My brothers and sisters in arms. They would need them; the family bonds, where every Landonian was kin, and the arms to bear arms. War was coming. No, war had already come. A great and terrible enemy had erupted in the realm of Renovatio after escaping what could only have been hell. The pits of the world. The untamed, unjust, unholy lands on the surface of the val. The mainland of Renovatio, the province of Nu Martyr, the island of Landon, the city of Landonia—from continent to isle, these lands and their peoples of Renovatio were worth ten times more than the sprawling chaos of the realms far beneath them. And now one Lilith Reiter, one Unsung Horror, one Commander of Death, had come to sing her song of destruction and command her dead armies to play the instruments of death. So we shall play. Sunrays galloped across the grassland ahead of horse and rider as though beckoning them forth. Budging Homage into a canter, Gerold led the two toward the western perimeter of Greater Landonia just south of his castle and west of the river, and they arrived at the barrier with the martial music of preparations parading them. Men, women and beasts were at work digging ditches, carting supplies and chopping wood. Armor jingled beside voices carried by the breeze. One of them went Gerold’s way. “Lord Belmore.” A man spoke, approaching on foot with a fist crossing his chest. He was garbed in plate and a grey-gold surcoat. Crested upon it was a grey flower upon a golden shield—the sigil of House Belmore. The face, meanwhile, betrayed the man for Commander Lelfrey Landers, a retainer and leader within his lord’s army. Gerold mimicked the salute, his gaze browsing the palisades and barricades, trebuchets and ballistas, and all manner of more. “I see that additional work is being done to our defenses.” “Can never be too prepared, my lord.” “Indeed. Especially against such a foe, one that can apparently appear out of thin air and strike at any time. Cult of Power. If the reports of how our neighbors fared against them are anything to go by then their power is much and more.” “Aye. But the bastards have yet to contend with Landonian power. Belmore power at that. We’re the bulk of the bulwark on this field, after all.” “We are at that.” House Belmore’s seat of Steelsward was among the first line of defense for the greater expanse of Landonia. It was Gerold’s forces that comprised half of the majority stationed before the city, backed up by those of House Arnford from Orchard Hall hailing from the other side of the River Vana. Each house defended one side of the river, respectively, allowing for a joint effort but confining the forces to east and west, at least for the beginning. Special retinues and militia units were among their company, and the Watchers of Genesaris, foreigners that they were, had been granted permission to move about the city freely, inner and outer, based on immediate need. “Anyway,” continued Gerold. “Our enemy brought me out of the comforts of Steelsward, from a warm castle and a warm bed with a warm body beside me. I should like to return to them once this cold wind passes—bed, body and all.” The two men exchanged a smile that was everything of humor, pride, strength, courage and caution amalgamated in a single look between two old friends. With that, Gerold veered his horse away and dismounted. He began to pace the defenses, placing a hand of strength on shoulders, greeting the troops and observing the war efforts. As he walked, a new air seeped into his lungs: the satisfying knowledge that, in this moment, he was on their level; a lord and a general but still just another soldier, with his jingling armor making the same sounds as their own. A horn sounded in the distance. High. Low. High. It peaked ears in an instant, as familiar as a mother’s call. Then it sounded again. Same notes. Same song. Same call. And again for a third time. Gerold turned to the south, pinpointing the location immediately. He wasn’t alone. One by one, head after head turned to look, till from the corners of his eyes Lord Belmore spotted man after woman halting their every slice of labor to gaze beyond the Bridge of Realms. The vastly long rope bridge that connected the city of Landonia to the rest of the island of Landon, serving as the only landborne means of traversal on foot, was as simple as it was symbolic. Even on the island of its namesake, Landonia was alone—and it wanted to be. This morning, at that very moment, however, Landonia had a guest, and the Bridge of Realms had a visitor. The figure was just so from so far away, unable to determine if it was man or woman, but that mattered less than what the figure was doing. He or she was clearly running across the bridge, as any Landonian might, but this was no leisurely jog. Landonian horn. Three blasts. That meant only one thing: the enemy was near. And near must mean right behind. Just then, another shape entered the vicinity behind the bridge. Then another. And another. One. Two. Three. Gerold lost count at thirty. He might have mistaken them for reinforcements, perhaps even for outsiders who had not retreated from the outlying towns and villages and hamlets, but they were moving too slowly. If the enemy were on the heels of countrymen then they’d be running like the one before them. Not walking. That, though, wasn’t the dead giveaway. It was what had gradually happened with each new arrival in the meager seconds that had passed. The rich, vibrant, beautiful colors of Landonian flora, where the island’s forests teemed with spiraling trees and their dancing limbs, pink mushrooms with golden lights and flowers of every shape and variety, had suddenly mutated into a mockery of themselves. Even from where Gerold stood, he could see the leaves fall like ash, the pink fade to black, the green corrode into grey, as though the whole section of forest had just become a graveyard. My gods… “Tellus guide us!” Gerold stole a look at a woman who had uttered the words beside him. She appeared as shocked as a cat caught by lightning. Who could blame her? She was watching her garden twist into something foul and perverted, by what could only have been the fault of the horde that had gathered on the other side of the bridge, on the other side of the realm. Steorra save us. Once more. A horde. An army. A plague. As the lone figure dashed across the bridge, one by one the horde marched on the messenger’s heels. Dark shapes silhouetted beneath a condemning sun, shadows caught by the horrified rays, creeping closer and closer with every footfall. Gerold had heard of them before and he knew what they were immediately. The undead were naturally unnatural, a tale of truth told before, and there they were in the rotting flesh. There was no doubt about it. The Lord of Steelsward just gulped back a stab of dread that had somehow surpassed itself. If the dead was marching on Landonia, from Landon, the greater expanse of the island, then the revelation was one of woe. They’re not just dead. They’re dead Landonians. My people! He watched and waited, as all of his brethren did, and that was when lightning had truly struck. The runner, the messenger, the horn-blower who was escaping with all his might, could easily outrun the composed coming of the lifeless horde behind him. But he would never get the chance. From out of nowhere, a long and twisted thing of green energy had slashed the sky to stab the messenger, a bolt of lightning if it was nothing else. It had vanished as quickly as the runner had, bursting into a cloud of black-green smoke. When the smoke dissipated, there was someone there after all, and this figure was garbed in red from head to toe, with an undead army marching behind it. The Cult of Power had come to Landonia.