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Showing content with the highest reputation on 02/01/2019 in all areas

  1. 4 points

    Let's Get Lored Up

    Oh cool. I've got a few. I love keeping track of threads. Lets me see go back and see the character before all their development and jazz. Lilith Reiter -> Not super new, but I've been RPing with Lilith since mid-ish 2016. I believe I'm working on her tenth thread right now. She's a super strong necromancer who seeks power above all others. Been enough Witch-Kings, let's get a Witch-Queen ? Marik Cayne -> My oldest character that I had put on hiatus for a little bit. Until quite recently, actually. I started using him on Val the day after I joined, so late 2013, but I've been roleplaying with Marik since 2010/2011 don't really remember lol waaaaay back in the Facebook roleplay days. Ugh. Lemme go count how many roleplays he's been part of~ 27 total roleplays. Not all finished but I yeeted Marik out of those when they died so technically his part ended lol Titus Demetrius -> Ironically Titus wasn't even supposed to be a reoccurring character when I made him. Just so rando-mercenary character that I threw together to fit a role I needed filling. Yeah, LMAO is my reaction too whenever I think about it hahaha needless to say though, he's grown into his own and is now an actual character. Been messing with this guy since 2017 and he's been in, eh, 8 threads so far. Could have been in more but I generally only use Titus for threads that have a large canon impact.
  2. 4 points

    Hyperion: Rise With Us!

    Whispers from the shadows "Ask, and you shall k n o w . . . "
  3. 3 points
    @vielle it’s easier than it looks, I’m just mostly compositing multiple images and tracing over them, adapting some parts. Takes a little bit of time to make them suitable for the reactions though. Things like eyes need to be edited to be huge, or they cannot be seen in the tiny reacts. One day, I’ll draw something original. One day... @Dolor Aeternum thank you! I’ll keep Xavier in mind!
  4. 3 points

    For the Good of My House

    “Hardly an altercation,” Andross replied. “And you’re far from old, Marcus.” A bit gray in the hair, perhaps, but the former Lord Commander was far from old. He let what that meant for Ikora’s perceived tardiness hang, sure both understood. There was no shortage of rumors concerning Andross’s favor of Ikora, and there were times (some might consider now a perfect example) where he would intentionally fuel them, if only to see her rise above the quips and comments. What he saw in her, even she couldn’t see—and because of that fogged, greasy mirror, she worked twice as hard as any of the other members on the Honorguard. The sweat she’d missed wiping with her gauntlet; the dirt still clinging to her tabard; the scraps on the heels of her boots from sweeping motions and quick stops. Out training again, Andross thought as he studied her with a brief glance. Marcus stole his attention then, using one of the phrases his father had all but drilled into him and Alexandros as they grew up. “If you want peace, prepare for war,” Andross answered. “It’s one of the phrases father had us study when we were learning the art of war.” Though, he’d been the only one to take a real interest in it. As the older twin, Alexandros was expected to focus more on the political landscape of the realm, as he would become head of their house when their honorable father finally passed. War, dueling, defending Skyfall—that fell upon Andross’s shoulders. “But must it always be like that, Marcus?” Andross frowned, glancing down the corridor Vivienne had taken moments prior. All things considered, he barely knew anything about the woman, and yet, he’d never felt a rage like that which had scorched his veins the moment Vhoori struck her. It wasn’t possessiveness, for despite their affairs she did not belong to him. But something more—perhaps even something that should not have been born from several romps around the estate. “We’ve done good business with the Ul’Daniir for years. I’m sure we could have come to some kind of arrangement if only they would have spoken with us—treated us as equals. Instead, they decided to use decep—” He shot a look Marcus’s way, already nodding his submission. “I know, I know. Never trust an elf.” How many times had the old Lord Commander uttered those words over his youth? Hundreds, if not thousands. Andross had never bothered to ask about the wars in Genesaris, and Marcus never made a point to discuss them. What he and his father had seen, what they had done—well, spare for minor mentions of victories and defeats, the details had all been left out of the expansive Histories of Skyfall and its Lords. Andross always suspected there was a good reason for that.
  5. 3 points

    Which Tabs do you Have Open?

    While researching the LEGO Movie on FB today (for science purposes >_>), I found a burger joint called "Pablo Escoburgers," who was under fire for putting lines of salt garlic on their burgers and pretending they were lines of cocaine. That cracked me up so I was like "damn where is this place," only to find that it's in AUSTRALIA. Which is why I started looking for 1 bedroom apartments in Australia, before realizing Aussie is hella expensive and deciding to just browse 1 bedroom apartments near me ?
  6. 2 points

    Whimsical Wonderful Wandering Wares

    The sound of icy slush crunching underfoot bounced off of closely packed stone and timber walls in the narrow backstreets of a small, frozen city in the Cold South. The rest of the continent was warming with the end of winter, but spring in Valjer meant only that the roads were clear enough for a few intrepid travelers to make their way to the city on foot instead of by the small airship port. Ainsworth, a traveler, was neither intrepid nor wealthy, but he was in Valjer none the less. Said traveler, a man with a flame cupped in his palms stepped off to the side of the street to allow a horse and sled to trudge past. It was carrying several blocks of ice from the market and neither draft-horse nor driver looked pleased about it. He called out to the driver. “Any late arrivals to market?” The driver didn’t stop the cart to yell back as he drove past, “Sorry, pal, closed an hour ago.” Ainsworth shaded his eyes and squinted at the sky. The sun was hanging low, bright against the grey, overcast heavens. He estimated he had three more hours until it was gone. Maybe less if the storm moved in. He sighed. With a snap of his fingers he relit the spark that danced an inch over his palm without burning the skin. It wasn’t much, but the heat felt good through his threadbare gloves. Ainsworth walked briskly down the street, his hands preoccupied, giving his mind time to ruminate. Time was running out and so were his hopes of finding what he needed. As someone who relied on magic as a livelihood, the idea of returning home empty handed was intimidating. He had a full silver piece saved in his purse for this purpose, but it wasn’t enough to buy passage to a city further north where such supplies would be abundant. He snuffed the spark and pulled a crumpled list from his pocket. Some items had been crossed off already, but the apothecary he bought the fireweed and reishi from dealt solely in local herbs. After spending the morning at the market, hoping the thaw would attract new business and being disappointed, he took the afternoon to comb the streets of valjer for any shop that sold anything magic at a decent price. Powdered magnesium? Expensive. Ashwagandha? Even more so. Witch stone? It was unlikely he would find something like that this far south, though he still had a few hours to go. He stopped in front of a door. Frowning, he looked down at the hastily scribbled address on his paper. It matched. A local at the market had directed him here, promising a “strange shop” with “strange things inside.” Ainsworth looked at the door curiously. It was worth a try. The gentle tinkle of a bell welcomed him inside. “Hello? I’m looking for-“ the man drew up short when he took in the inside of the shop. “Woah,” he breathed softly, eyes wide in awe of the sight before him.
  7. 2 points

    GIF association

    Was feeling cute. Might delete later
  8. 2 points
    I am still a go for this. Might make a brief appearance at the ball too but have just been busy with life.
  9. 2 points

    Cap and Bells Market

    Trout stood at a fried mushroom stall, chatting with the vendor while eating greasy shiitake caps off a paper plate. “First I’m thinking Weland, then Dougton, then Casper. I’ve heard Casper is amazing. From there who knows? Maybe even an airship to Genesaris or Tellus Mater!” “When you go to Weland, make sure you visit Xingjuan Garden, it’s less crowded in the winter, but it’s still really beautiful, especially if there’s snow. This is my favorite time of year to go,” The vendor said, dropping a few more mushrooms into the hot oil. She wore an old-fashioned silk robe, bright red and gold. Her young son sat behind the stall poking a mud puddle with a stick. “I’ll do that, thanks! Say, do you know a good tailor here? I really need a good traveling cloak. Ideally something windproof. And waterproof. And hexproof.”
  10. 2 points

    Mapping the Depths

    Selene acts without thought. Having no regard for her own safety at the moment if only to keep James alive and in one solid piece. An instinctual feat. What she does not expect on his rise from the edge is where it lands him. Selene pulled and rolled onto her back as he made his way up. The two forces working in unison to help land him in an awkward position. One where he keeps himself from crushing her by holding himself above her. Her breath hitches. Her heart skipping a beat as quickly as it forms a new rhythm in her chest. “Appreciate the help. Thank you.” Blue eyes widen as her lips part in an attempt to answer his gratitude. But nothing escapes them... However short those seconds may have been, they last much longer in her mind than she anticipates. Maybe she is still tired? Maybe the adrenaline rush is going to her head?... and cheeks, and chest… She’s back on her feet as quickly as he is. Brushing dirt and pebbles from her person while attempting to ignore the warm sensation coloring her cheeks. Selene’s attempts to distract herself are soon thwarted by the actions of Dan. Her feet leave the ground and travel across the expanse where they would have crossed the bridge, had James not broken in. Selene meditates on the stillness of her frame. Control of her movement relinquished to the young man, at least until her heels meet once more with solid ground. And once they make it all over, she moves onward with them again. It doesn’t take much time for them to come across another are eerier than the last. The people littering the throughways and open spaces of the ground make it difficult to circumvent the area. As she wants not to disturb them from whatever sleep, death, or spell they rest under she is careful to weave around them without making physical contact. Curiosity causing her to stop so that she may take a closer look upon the form of what appears to be an elderly woman. Before slipping away to look at the child laying on the ground beside her. Frozen, silent, timeless. Each face wears its own expression, as if they’d been caught in the middle of whatever they were doing, and told to sleep on the spot. 3. Examine Bodies Further
  11. 2 points

    Hyperion: Rise With Us!

    Well, Thurgood, Aveline, Vivian, and Nadia will be at Grant's coronation, they'll probably drag Josh Rymer there too: he is their prospect right now. Also, they might open another Mil Dot location there.
  12. 2 points
    Cerik made it out of the woods and back onto the main road without incident, and brought Stormfire to a stop some distance from the trees. He wasn't particularly inclined to wait around for Sera, it was obvious that, barring the event in which she was killed by the griffin, she would come charging up the road behind them before long. No, he was simply going to wait for the rest of the group to catch up to him, and then he would continue down the road... unless the ladies insisted that they waited around for Sera. Though, judging by how even they reacted to her recent antics, he would hazard a guess that they weren't inclined to wait around either. As he waited, a pair of men that the knight vaguely recognized approached him, some trepidation in their faces but striding forward with as much confidence as they could muster nonetheless. They came to a stop in front of the mounted knight, both meeting his narrowed gaze. After many seconds of awkward silence, the taller, lankier one on the right cleared his throat and began to speak. "Uh, hello there, Sir Knight. Please don't draw your weapons when I say this... we were part of those bandits who waylaid down you the road." Cerik's gaze, somehow, seemed to narrow even further. After a couple of moments of strained silence, however, he gestured for the bandit to continue. "But after that, err, thorough defeat you brought upon our gang, my buddy and I took some time to evaluate our lives. We're turning our backs on banditry. I mean, we were starting to become disillusioned already, due to our leader being a fucking moron without even an ounce of sense... then you came along. Everything about you spoke of a man who had fully embraced knightly virtues. And seeing you fight, something about that inspired us. So we're planning to find some honest work after we leave here, perhaps as caravan guards or something. But we wanted to do something good for you before that. Judging by your direction of travel... you're heading into the High Desert, yeah?" Cerik, for a few moments, considered whether to respond honestly, or distort the truth, or not respond at all. Then, he nodded. The tall man smiled slightly, and his shorter, stockier buddy stepped forward. "Well, I've got a hot tip for you. There's a nice little place at the end of this road before the desert. A small market, an inn, all of that. Anyways, I picked up some news when I passed through there recently. There's a sizeable bunch of religious nutjobs who have been gathering in that desert every nightfall, worshiping some kinda glass mirror, or ball, or something. Point is, whatever it is, it's rumored to have a hefty bit of power in it. If you have any interest in it, you'll want to either be prepared to slaughter them worshipers to the last man, or concoct a plan through which to infiltrate their ranks and steal the thingamajig right under their very noses. That's my hot tip for you... Oh! And one last thing, unless you have a solid death wish, don't travel into the desert until night has fallen. The heat will cook you in that armor right thoroughly, and even someone in more regular clothing would likely end up roasted. That's all, good sir. If we ever meet again, I hope you'll see us having turned over a new leaf." With that, the duo of former bandits waved and made their way back the way Cerik and his group had came. After a moment, the knight gave a tentative wave in return, and watched as the duo heard the racket in the woods and adjusted their path to give them a safe distance between themselves and the source of the noise. Cerik stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to see if the others had arrived yet.
  13. 2 points
    Oh, I think I just misread your post a bit. I mistook this to mean that he was being shot or hit by shrapnel but it was doing no damage to him. The bit about Esben's position was more directed at Jaistlyn. Might be worth it to make a diagram of how I think everything is situated. I might do that real quick... tomorrow...
  14. 1 point

    The Pulchritudinous Priestesses of Coth

    [♥️] [Coth] Inside the church on Coth's hill, in the basement library which had been untouched by god's cataclysmic fires, Constans sat across from the Brothers of Hedon and tried not to look dismissive. Yet his hand was holding his face up, and he was leaning in his chair like someone who desperately wanted to be asleep. That he hadn't slept for three days might have had something to do with it, but he'd managed to stay up through the previous meeting with Coth's farmers just fine. And he'd been alert when treating with the men petitioning for hunting rights before that. No, it was the Brothers of Hedon who had this effect on him, and it was getting harder and harder not to show it. They were repulsive. "-and the powerful Smeglord Dunkeen has also heard of your new pleasure temple," one of them cooed, smiling through rotten teeth. The rattling lust in his voice when he said 'pleasure' made Constans' stomach turn, "He is most...eager to visit your dominion and sample the delights you have opened to the world. Terrenus is in need of more whorehouses and fuc-" Constans jolted up in his seat, coughing loudly into his hand before the corpulent, pockmarked Brother could finish. "Hem-hem, excuse me," Constans started, after offering another few forced coughs, "Please convey my personal invitation to the Smeglord to visit Coth anytime it pleases him, however our priestesses serve faithful Cothites only, in accordance with god's law." He'd give up god's green fire before he'd let a Smeglord or any of the Brothers of Hedon defile one of god's handmaidens. The Hedons were a sect of philosophical pleasure seekers, but had long ago descended into a loose collection of slovenly sexual deviants. They possessed incredible resources, however, and they appreciated Constans' devout faith, to an extent. "Oh, my dear Patriarch, all this about god's laws. You are an educated man. Erudite, unlike these 'faithful Cothites' of yours, ho ho! They say you were a Gaian before your reawakening. We are extremely sympathetic to this more positive change in your religion, but you must understand that the only law is pleasure. The only good is the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. It is the taste of salt on a subjugated woman's skin. It is the groan of endless satisfaction. The secrets of life can be found only by splitting the flesh of the innocent and forcing yourself inside, diving into the wet, tender pus-" Constans summoned another coughing fit. "I have no doubt that pleasure has its benefits good brothers." Constans wasn't quite at his wits end, but he was careening towards it rapidly, "God himself has clearly chosen pleasure as a method of sharing his magic with us here in his worldly kingdom. But god's pleasure-- the priestesses' pleasure-- is a gift, not a service. And our priestesses do more than just comfort our citizens. They are our spiritual guardians, and they represent the feminine perspective which I so sorely lack. They complete Coth, and they are the sacred daughters of god, my friends. They are not common prostitutes." "All the more delicious." One of the brothers wheezed. Another quickly chimed in. "Yesss, are you sure we can't come to some financial arrangement to, say, sample one of these lovely girls in lieu of the Smeglord?" "I'm sorry, we cannot." Constans said mournfully, "But that ought not interrupt our other trading negotiations, nor sour your visit." The Brothers of Hedon agreed that it would not sour their visit, and further pleasantries accrued. Eventually, thankfully, they arrived at the real point of their visit, and spoke to Constans plainly. "Patriarch, we have recently come to something of a business dilemma with a denizen of your claimed territory. North and west of here there is a small tower, the home of an old knight who did not heed the call to leave these lands during the awful war. He is the basest sort of man, with no mind for pleasure beyond counting his riches and accumulating soldiers and thugs to do his bidding. He is called Warthog. Minor potentate though he is, we did not bring much by way of guards on our trip from the south, and he has used this fact to abuse us most heinously. Aside from visiting your earthly paradise, our trip north was also for the purpose of providing Warthog with four sumptuous virgin woman, for a modest price. Yet when he saw we had no guards, he took the virgins and refused to pay!" Constans' lips twitched, but he resisted his own disgust. Brothers of Hedon were not slavers, but only barely. Legally, the women they traded to their friends and associates gave themselves over by choice, usually as payment for egregious debts their families could not settle. To Constans, a woman without choices was a slave, and he felt abysmally for these stolen people. Oftentimes, however, he was powerless to stop their trafficking through god's lands. The Brothers of Hedon were depressingly influential and made for insidious enemies. Constans had no need for any more of those. But now they had come to him to settle a dispute. In this situation, there was something he could do to help these unfortunate women. For as bad as the virgins had it with the lecherous Hedons, the pleasure-seeking brothers took great pains to feed and care for their women, so as to increase their value. In the hands of a brute like Warthog, they would be heedlessly mistreated. It was a certainty. "I've heard of this Warthog, he is as despicable as you say. I am gladdened that you came to me to settle this dispute for you. Brothers, Coth will see to the liberation of these women. You have my word." His wording had been precise. Perhaps too precise. Yet the Brothers of Hedon accepted with gusto, their eyes now looking lustfully at Constans, as though he were a ripe virgin himself. He didn't like that look, the look of hunters who had just caught their prey, and he left wondering if he hadn't just made a huge mistake. It didn't matter. Four innocent girls were in the clutches of a rancid villain. It would not stand. Constans parted ways with the Brothers and headed down to the new Temple, Coth's second holy site wherein the priestesses of god conducted their discreet rituals. Before their door, he tarried for a moment. He always felt an odd sense of apprehension when he visited the priestesses. Despite that they seemed to look to him as the pinnacle of god's love, he had a hard time looking at them. They were...attractive women, to say the least, and he was unused to impressing such delicate and sensual creatures, even after knowing them for two months. Dispelling his apprehensions, Constans entered their temple foyer. His brow piqued at the sight of his massive green serpent taking residence on the floor of the temple, its glittering scales reflecting the colorful light of the building's stained glass windows. When it noticed Constans, it lazily picked up its hooded cobra head and flicked its tongue out in greeting. Then it laid back down again, utterly ignoring him. "At least one of us feels comfortable here." the patriarch muttered under his breath. @LikelyMissFortune @vielle @Minuet of the Nightingale @Witches Brew
  15. 1 point

    Gaia is Dead

    Constans had hitched a ride with some Dougton merchants on the way to Blairville. “-and so then he says ‘fine! we’ll just put it back in the cow!’” Constans finished, pantomiming the act of gripping something tight in his hand and thrusting that hand into something unpleasant. The merchants howled with laughter. One even fell off the wagon on the left, which made everyone laugh even harder. Bigby, who was sitting beside Constans at the front of their carriage, was doubled over. Constans politely rubbed the man’s back as he looked from person to person, enjoying the mirth he made. The night air was so rich you could almost taste it. It was tinged orange, colored by the rays of setting sunlight crossing through the lazy haze of pipe-smoke he and the fellows produced. Tonight, the stories came out easy and the pace was slow, an ideal night as far as Constans was concerned. He was enjoying being out in the world, away from Coth and among folk who had no idea who he was. He’d named himself “Conner” on the travel manifest, but on account of his green eyes they all called him “Cothite”, which of course he was. Constans was proud to see that “Cothite” had become a term of endearment for the people of Terrenus; a name for free folk, for brave folk who eschewed the easy life. And if people from the cities were somewhat ambivalent about the Cothite god, well, that was to be expected. One day god would be more to them than some distant religious icon from a small town. In time, Constans told himself, in time. For now, he was happy to see that Coth had entered the public mind as a beacon of freedom in a land of lawlessness and danger. He was just as happy to see trade resuming on the roads between cities. It meant that people were starting to feel safe again, in no small part because Cothites like himself were out in the world making it so. “So Cothite,” Bigby said later, when everyone had caught their breath, “What is bringing you to Blairville? Has your fire god sent you?” This question was met with a few grunts of disapproval from the other travelers. It wasn’t in good form to pry too deep into other men’s business. Constans encouraged them to pardon Bigby with a genial wave of his hand, “I’m an elf-friend,” he began, “and a lady Ioreth, an elf, has been encouraging me to visit Blairville for some time-“ he began, but was interrupted as three of the men began talking all at once. “Is it true there are more elves in Coth than men?” One shouted over the others. Constans shook his head, ”No but there are many.” He admitted, “God alone knows why. Anyways, so this lady says I’ve been spending too much time at home, and that I ought to see more of the world. Coth is such a paradise it’s sometimes hard to find a reason to leave, but she was right.” “Aye, the fair folk always are.” Bigby intoned beside him. ”They are,” Constans agreed, “so I’ve come to see if Blairville is a good and just place, I suppose. I’ve promised my kin I’d tell them of it. Some have never seen it. Some have, but haven’t been back since before the war.” This answer satisfied his fellow travelers, and it had the added benefit of being mostly true. “Things are different now, I’d say.” Another traveler said from the carriage on the right, “All the same old problems, but worse then ever before. The damn mages-“ That line of conversation elicited a slurry of opinions all shouted over each other at once. Constans gave an apologetic look to Bigby, who shook his head as the men around them began to jostle for the group’s attention. As always, one voice finally broke out, a grey beard’s to their left: “My sister is a witch and I say there’s no good reason for putting her on a list, she’s never hurt nobody!” “But she could! And who would know?” Another shouted ”Ah, what’s a damn list of wizards going to do to protect anyone anyway?!” “It’ll hold people accountable! Show them sorcerous folk we’re watching them!” “A politician’s trick! You know it won’t do nothing!” Constans felt his eyes bouncing between speakers as he watched in silence, they continued, “What’s any wizard done to you makes you want to put them on a damn list, huh?” ”My ma told me a wizard turned my uncle Rebo into a weasel once!” It was quite possibly true, and a sobering enough thought that the group quieted for a moment to think on it. Every man there knew they would find it funny to turn one of their friends or enemies into a weasel, but at the same time knew that they themselves never wanted it to happen to them. That was the crux of the problem, as far as Constans’ investigations into the matter had discovered. In Blairville, the people were clamoring for accountability from the city’s many mages. Yet at the same time, most people understood that accountability had a nasty habit of transforming into tyranny. That was all well and good, but as far as Constans was concerned, tyranny was already well present and accounted for in city life. Yet Ioreth had challenged him to prove it. She had a soft spot for Blairville, he knew, and she was ever the skeptic even while she helped shape Coth’s dogmatic idealogies. Constans felt that if he could convince her, he could convince anyone. So here he was, going to collect the evidence his arguement would need. “Putting people on a list for maybe being dangerous is foolish.” Bigby finally said, “How many men carry swords in Blairville? No one puts them on a list and they’re plenty dangerous.” ”If I may,” Constans interjected, “a sword is a danger I can see. The man carries it on his hip. Even a secret dagger has to touch me to hurt me. Magic can kill me from miles away, or plague my dreams or do awful things I can’t even imagine. I like magic personally, but I bet no one here could tell me how it’s done, or what anyone could do to stop it if it’s thrown at you.” There was a general agreement to this, and another voice rose: “Listen to the Cothite, Big. Magic is no sword! And frankly I think the only people who ought to have it are priests. At least with a priest Gaia— or whatever god,” he added quickly, nodding to Constans, “can make sure they don’t abuse it. Who does a wizard answer to? Eh? No one! Well, should that be? I say no! And you would too if anyone ever turned your uncle into a weasel!” Others began to talk, and Constans leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Bigby beside him did the same, taking long draws from his pipe. As the light waned and the moon rose, they looked to the horizon and spotted something in the distance at the same time. “What’s that?” Constans said of the huge shape as it came into view. ”Our destination. Troubled Blairville.” Bigby answered mournfully. Indeed it was. That huge shape turned out to be walls, and the little points above were towers, wizard towers mostly. “Well, here I am then.” Constans whispered to himself, “Let’s get the measure of this place once and for all, Ioreth.” @Minuet of the Nightingale
  16. 1 point

    the Dead Celebrates.

    If not for the strike of keys against the board of the piano Ina may not have noticed Shikai right away. More so because she wasn't intentionally set on seeking him out. Upon her short travels around the hallway, the bowing of her chin with a politely placating smile to each person she engaged, she at some point stopped to listen to the excitement of his fingers dancing across the ivories. Like others in their troupe she has many passions, music being more of a silent one that she releases on rare occasion. Mostly when she doesn't realize it. And for now she takes the time to enjoy it. Walking toward him just as he finishes playing to see him make a hasty getaway. For such an enthusiastic player, and speaker when working, it surprises her that he tries to alight from the immediate area as fast as he does. Not as quickly, but just quick enough to slide her fingers across the arm of his shirt as he passes by. “Entertain me with a dance?” the same hand flips over, palm paralleling the ceiling as the small slender fingers wait patiently to see if he'll accept their open invitation. It's true to say she isn't one to engage others on a regular basis, the same going for many of them. But for some reason she cannot deny the evening nor Riforte's wishes for them to enjoy this Christmas Holiday. They're all together, so they might as well make the best of it. Ina included. @danzilla3
  17. 1 point

    Characters born to die?

    I can agree with that ^ Edit: Oh jeez. My turn, this was in reply to @supernal
  18. 1 point

    Let's Get Lored Up

    I...may have gone wild...at some point ? gotta get those plots and establishments moving somehow! ?
  19. 1 point

    Characters born to die?

    I differentiate slightly between characters written to die, and head-held-high accepting/embracing death for your otherwise not throwaway characters. On the one hand, I think you're absolutely right on all counts. (And still I admit, that's not something I've had the courage to do, but it's something I will take with me to be considerate of/challenge myself to in future roleplaying) But those characters will usually have other stories to tell before they die, while the other... I guess facilitates stories without being a protagonist, and are sort of necessarily cut down before they reach their potential. I don't see it being a common thing, either, these martyr characters. That could be easily over-used. . But in rare cases? /Shrug/
  20. 1 point
    Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end.
  21. 1 point
    Dude infamous 2's karma was so great. Sure, it's not hard to regain them, but you thunder drop on a massive group, it will hurt your karma. I like that.
  22. 1 point

    Breaking An Egg To Make An Omelette

    The cut into Samael's mirror self was deep. Strong. Enough such that it should have sliced the reflection in two; a quick and swift end to the match up. But instead of collapsing and splitting, the body stitched itself back together in a matter of seconds. The only damage Samael seemed to have done to his mirror self was frighten it even more. A fear, for what it was, was a powerful thing. Dangerous and unpredictable, but powerful nonetheless. Calling out from beyond the fog Lilith's voice was oddly patient, if slightly disappointed at the failed attempt. "Did you really think all it would take to purge the weakness from yourself is to brandish Deathbringer like a scared child out of his depth?" Within the fog Samael's mirror self scowled, terror clear in his eyes. But even that was overshadowed by a desperate need to survive. To live. The rules of the mind were unlike those of reality. Samael would find that out soon if he hadn't already. A long, sharp sword suddenly materialized in Mirror Samael's hand. The aura permeating it resembling that of Deathbringer. Striking out in a righteous fright the reflection swung his corrupted sword at Samael: murderous intent deeply imbued in the swing. To fight a cornered rat was to fight it at its most dangerous. "I saw to kill it," she reminded the young boy. "Not cut it or stab it. You need to kill it or it will consume you until there is nothing left but a whimpering lump of nothing." @vielle
  23. 1 point


    Trout High Concept: Young man itching to the see the world Trouble: Curiosity killed the Trout Appearance: Small, bearded, smiling Trout is a Korr: if you’d never seen Korr before, you’d probably mistake him for a gnome. He’s short for a humanoid, with brown eyes and a neatly-trimmed black beard that makes him look older than he really is. He’s skinny, despite eating voraciously. Background Trout was born and raised in Chesterfield, a small town in western Terrenus. Trout studied hard and made top marks in school, occasionally partying, rarely leaving town. He hopes to take over the family business some day. His parents own a block of downtown properties, including a hotel, a restaurant, and commercial space they lease out to antique shops and local artists. They’ve done quite well as Chesterfield has grown, and are lavishly funding Trout’s adventure. (Lavish by Chesterfield standards, anyway.) Now that he’s graduated, Trout wants to take some time off and travel Valucre. OOC Thread Currently eating fried mushrooms at Cap and Bells Market
  24. 1 point


    Hmm, so some filthy pirates are about to interfere in the nobility's business, hm?
  25. 1 point
    Composite tracings are the way to go! ? lol
  26. 1 point

    The Light, Extinguished (OOC)

    ? Count Freckles in.
  27. 1 point

    GIF association

  28. 1 point

    Which Tabs do you Have Open?

    Chacha? Samba? Yeah I can dance! ? I'm digging the 7 Val tabs, I end up with that when I'm trying to get my facts straight or weave in stuff from other locations/threads. Also docs nice, always. Hey is that.. Is that porn? Also what had you searching Anton Chekhov? I'm trying to get into Russian literature right now and the list has been short, so adding a name would be nice but why? Booiiii your tabs are all over the place. You need a tabs manager. I am officially applying for the position.
  29. 1 point

    GIF association

  30. 1 point
    Well, it sure doesn't sound easy to me ? I can only hope I can someday draw something more complex than crude stickmen or it-has-a-deeper-meaning-i-swear abstract art ? I shall await that One Day with great anticipation ? thank you once again ❤
  31. 1 point
    November 24 | 29 AO Dahlia watches with considering eyes as the two women converse with each other, learning the slightest nuances, the ripple of gestures and expressions and what they mean. She can’t help the amused smile that graces her lips; it’s been a losing battle from the very start. "I think we are done here, Lady Chamelis. You may leave me to my..uh...solitude. Feel free to do other stuff..uh...without my presence." Wait. Dahlia frowns, leaning closer and tilting her head as she regards the white-haired woman and her downcast mask. Were she a lesser woman, she would have thought the Mistress had been downright sulking by then. “Why? Are you quite sure? Have we—do you require anything else?” Surely the woman isn’t despondent because of the Lady Goldcourt’s sudden appearance—? Lo and behold, Lady Evienne herself steps in to the situation, explaining the reason behind her arrival to the teahouse, requesting that the Mistress join them and offer up her own critique of the Lady’s fashion designs. Behind the noblewoman, Marcy gives Dahlia a knowing look, humor curving along the edges of his mouth. "Perhaps, I could tempt you with a commission as well?" Now, that idea hadn’t sounded half-bad at all. “Why, isn’t that a grand idea!” Dahlia claps her hands together, a gleeful smile firmly plastered on her face as she catches everyone’s attention. “The Lady Evienne quite simply makes the most charming designs, and perhaps your lovely visage will be made to shine more through the clothes she can create for you,” she tells the Mistress, a considering look in her eyes as if already picturing the white-haired woman in something created by the noblewoman’s hands and finding it stunning to gaze upon. “Not only does it provide Lady Goldcourt with an additional commission, but it provides you with more pretty outfits to be seen in. What do you say, Mistress?” @Thotification @LikelyMissFortune
  32. 1 point

    Hyperion: Rise With Us!

    Pro Slavery eh?
  33. 1 point

    General chat thread

    Don't forget to support me through reptreon.
  34. 1 point
    Die Shize

    Which Tabs do you Have Open?

    I keep a lot of tabs open on my home PC and work PC, for all sorts of functions. Home PC includes Valucre, youtube, IGN, writing resources, email... Work PC just various tabs for various functions. I get giggles about it from employees and even IT but, honestly, in my experience I never have performance issues unless I really overdo it and as long as the tabs have already loaded and aren't loading. For my current window at home:
  35. 1 point

    Hyperion: Rise With Us!

    Freedom-fighters! No to slavery!
  36. 1 point

    Hyperion: Rise With Us!

    I could get down on a freedom-fighters or Railroad plot ?
  37. 1 point

    Hyperion: Rise With Us!

    ? Interesting..Is there a minor noblehouse? Or a vassal position?
  38. 1 point

    Church On The Hill

    Odille does not quite like the look on Billy's face. It's contortions are made hideous with the a blush the rivals his hair in its rudiness, he had almost sliced her feet off. There was a barrier, between her and him, and she had tears in her eyes. It wasn't clear whether it was from shock or relief. Or the kindness that Ioreth had so readily show a stranger. One that had stalked the woman for months, at that. Her thoughts were jumbled, to the point she isn't quite sure what to do until Ioreth loops her arm around Odille's and they make their way through the kitchen. "... That's Billy." She started, her voice catching as she witnesses Mark, hauling Billy up by his arm. The man looked os frightened, almost like Odille was of him. There were so many eyes on her. Her thoughts left her, and all she could think of was the face of the inn keep- hatred and disgust swirling in them. Odille had ruined it again. She had caused trouble, and now, this was her punishment. She forces her gaze onto the floor after that, one foot in front of the other- embarrassed, guilty and ashamed at herself. She should've just remained in the little farm, with Bess and the other cows. Be treated almost like them. No Father, I won't marry Billy. Stumbling into the kitchen, she almost crumples. It was warm, too warm, perhaps-and she almost crumples to the floor; panic ebbing, leaving despair and sickness in its wake. "I'm so sorry for that, Elf Ioreth. I am so sorry." She isn't able to hold out for long. @KittyvonCupcake
  39. 1 point

    Characters born to die?

    ? The closest I got is perhaps The Lady Blackbush...which I did kill off screen, unfortunately. But she was one of my favorites. And I've been trying to keep her dead for a long time?. But her planned death gave way to too much growth ffor her killer..soooo?
  40. 1 point

    contemporary movement

    Bingo. Her target must not be very accustomed to pain, given how his body was overwhelmed by having his hand severed. She was right, then. He was only trying to be brave. Darah wound up her string neatly, then stretched them out again. A whip to the neck. It would be simple to finish him off — Darah’s eyes tore away from Jasper at the sounds of the ground being ripped up by shells. The target wasn’t her; she was standing much too close to the people that the gunmen were trying to protect. A movement at the corner of her eye brought her back from the distraction. The barrel of the pistol was pointing at her, but Darah dodged Jasper’s bullet easily. An offhand shot with his trembling hand couldn’t hope to nick her. She kicked the gun out of his hand. It skidded over the ground, slick with blood, and was in turn picked up by Lupin. In one swift motion, she hauled Jasper to his feet and put him in between her and Dicken. She pressed the strings to her hostage’s throat. They cut shallowly into his skin, allowing a thin stream of blood to flow. “Make a move, and he’s dead, while I may not be. Let us go, and I’ll return him to you.” The situation was working against the squire - while he couldn’t be sure if Darah would kill Jasper anyway, it would be bad for Dicken if he became the one responsible for the Hildebrand sibling’s death.
  41. 1 point
    @vielle I pinged you in what will be our preparation thread, but you won't be up to post just yet. @Grubbistch If you would like to post some sort of response and act out the initial first contact, you have an opening. If not, we can say it happened off-screen and I will time-skip to the current time, summarizing that some level of relations has been established and that Norkotia now has something akin to an embassy or consulate, as well as merchant posts and the like.
  42. 1 point

    Let's Make A Deal [Stormlands]

    Cali was trying to remember the rules of being a hostage, though it was a bit dull to him. The ship that was currently carrying them to whomever this 'boss' was had suspisously appeared after the crash, thus if it were them that had shot the ship down they must have what ever weapon that was. To look at it now would be foolish, cameras would be looking out for that hidden ones most likely so wait he did until he heard something "Poor hitch hiker guess they will be joining us for this wonderful trip to whoknows land" he mumbled as a thought came to mind ("Wait they dont know she's here do they?") Hence if all goes well she could work like an espionage unit yet they needed to make sure that these people did not know she was here If they didn't know already that was. So he marched to (Im going to edit later but basicly he gives the captian suggestions on turning the new prisoner into a temporary espionage unit)
  43. 1 point

    Vote for Valucre!

  44. 1 point
    No, no.? I'm guessing it wasn't deliberate seeing as he spoke to him after firing three neon blasts in his face. The only way to get bad karma is to be overtly careless to the innocent or deliberately do something evil. Any time you lose karma or gain it, I'll put something at the beginning of my post to indicate it.
  45. 1 point
    In the city of Port Sun Lithist sits on a box with his top hat beside him. "So what are we doing today? I got this little metal man." The hat wiggles around on its own and the gears inside it turn. Lithist then nods and picks up Capri, putting it on his head. "Lets make some money." He then walks to the middle of the street. Lithist sets the metal man on the ground and puts Capri on it. The hats gears start shifting loudly inside it to draw attention to people. He raises Capri and the metal now stands at three feet tail instead of a few inches. Lithist snaps his fingers and some of his magic goes into the metal man and it starts dancing, clapping its hands, and even prancing towards people watching it. The impressive part of all this is a 375 pound muscled man just made a wired metal man dance through magic. (OOC: Giving you a taste of what you'd see from Lithist.)
  46. 1 point
    Minuet of the Nightingale

    Gaia is Dead

    Dawn arched an eyebrow at him, her olive eyes still wary but perhaps a touch amused at this strange man. She was thankful he had taken her hands-on observations as calmly as he did. She would have a hard time reasoning away her behavior without sounding paranoid. Which she was a bit in all honesty. The way he was casually looking her over also left her a bit uncertain. Of course, his next line of questioning caught her entirely off guard - so much so she let out a snort of laughter before composing herself; "That would be your call, Holy Man. Have I done enough to earn your trust?" She met his eyes for a brief moment and felt that wave of recognition all over again. Annoying. "I can say I don't trust you yet - I've never met a magic user who performs small miracles for free. And you did just admit you're looking to cause some trouble for little Blairville here." She gave her shoulders a little shrug. "But if you want to tell me all your deepest and darkest secrets, I won't say no. I might question your ability to judge a person though." Ah, she was rambling. Wait, was she trying to impress him or something? What was wrong with her? Dawn wrinkled her nose in obvious displeasure and put her hands on her hips, trying to size this man up. How was he just so... calm with everything? And disarmingly charming? "Do I know you?" She asked suddenly. "Have we met before and I've just forgotten somehow?" That would at least explain where her mind got his face from - just some random encounter she had on the street who'd been haunting her dreams. It sort of made sense. Of course, she'd feel kind of weird just saying adding that particular fact to this already strange encounter. "Because I can't remember ever meeting you or hearing your name, and yet you strike me as uncomfortably familiar."
  47. 1 point

    Destruction des morts

    The Apprentice has no idea the deal being struck so many levels below her feet. Or maybe Schrei is using this to her advantage in some form or fashion. She knowing of the other woman’s choice of actions, while their estranged guest stands before her potentially unaware of what transpires so high above them. Were the Apprentice capable of dividing her attention, and in the know of such a stand-off, she would assist the girl. Their forced partnership under Cain’s command the only whim needed to necessitate such an action. Unfortunately, the Apprentice remains occupied with the rolling waves of bodies behind her. Using any means she is capable of to climb further up the tower. Her ultimate goal so near, and yet still very far from the tendriled reach of the inky shadows whipping against the floor and walls around her. The worse portion set before not only herself but also to the lizard king @Twitterpated and her small and silent counterpart below is that the Maleficence in the air ducts has already penetrated the throne room. The devastation awaiting her arrival shrouded in mystery and….maybe even tragedy. Luckily there is an antidote nestled within the bag her boss told them to take, whether or not she yet knows she’s going to need it. @amenities Will she make it on time to save the enigmatic Nica Sero from his fate as he bleeds out on the throne room floor? Will the Heretic be infected and wild enough to discourage such an action? All questions she doesn’t know to ask at the moment. Any answers to them remaining incalculable at this point in the game. Somewhere along the journey, she’d not only gained numbers but also lost some. The infected beings are only attracted to the magnetism of her ‘life’ force but still attack and destroy one another, climbing over the fallen to continue the chase. Unflinching in her resolve to complete her given and chosen task for the Black Tower, she continues onward. Her currently unhindered movement more than she could ever ask for. This is not to say she doesn’t remain wary, having run into more purple-frothing goblins and people than she would like to have anticipated so high up. Like an extended limb, her umbrella parries like a sword. Swishing and slashing to whip the distorted beings into line, or if only out of the way, so she can continue moving forward. | Ten more floors. | @bfc Shared, just to keep her partner apprised of her location and commitment to the required outcome. Fingers, rendered white by the thin leather linings that glove them, dip into the void of her skirt. The malleable black fabric almost liquid under her touch. Her intentions to both procure and possibly use the eight small orbs she’d plucked from it. They are held like large marbles snuggly but not too tightly between the distal joints of her finger-tips and crooks of her thumbs. Should there a wall or door to block her emergence into the throne room, she would use them. Essentially creating her own entrance of sorts.
  48. 1 point
    "The Uldwars? They pay well. And are surprisingly courteous. Definitely not rude. Unlike those Singlances" There's a certain tone of distate in her words, that result in a scrunched nose and, Evienne, shifts her focus to the Mistress Black head directly. Surely, she had been right about this woman being in the moral grayscale; neither the black her name suggest, nor the white her complexion insists. Her cup is used, as a thin veil of propriety- she had no doubt The Mistress would mind her brazen stare, but theatrics must be put on. "However, I am but an insignificant and simple woman. A bastard and commoner at that. Who am I to judge a noble house?" She snorts, at this, grinning into her tea. Lukewarm. "But you noblewoman, you have quite the penchant for clothing. I'm sure you have quite the discerning eye. Why don't you be the judge of me?" "Ah, but you see! We nobility put on all these airs and graces to make you think you're insignificant." Her tea is downed, in one long, rude gulp. "You're not, without the common men and women, tradesmen, farmers and warriors the nobility would be quickly overwhelmed. We have to curry favor with the masses, make sure they're happy, or we'd all just end up a head shorter. "But, you already know that, don't you?" she laughs, daintily, contriving. "As for you, I think you're a lot more than what you seem on the outside- and, I rather admire your choice in such risqué attire. All those stays and bodices and bows and frills give me a migraine, and I suspect it does for you too." Evienne was sure she was overcompensating for something, in that languid, lazy position. "You're much kinder than they imply. So much kinder." It should sound like an insult, but it doesn't. @Thotification
  49. 1 point
    Minuet of the Nightingale

    Gaia is Dead

    There were a lot of people out there who needed the help of someone who knew a thing or two about medicine; Dawn had treated a lot of people under the watch of Eleanor, and more recently on her own accord. Some survived and went on to live happy lives, while some couldn't pull through even with all of her expertise and desire to see them live. It was always a little hard to let go and come to terms with those that didn't survive, but Dawn usually managed to move on... Unless it was children. She was sure she wasn't the only healer out there whose heart was stirred when it came to the plight of the innocent little ones, but nobody really ever talked about it with each other. If Dollie didn't pull through, she would carry some sense of responsibility for the death for the rest of her life. But she had done all she could at this point; all that was in her power. She stood next to Dollie, carefully wetting the girls hair to try to clean it to the best of her ability because she felt obligated to stay a little longer when the curtain that separated this room from the hallway swung open. Dawn immediately assumed it was Eleanor and that by some miracle she had returned early from her trip just in time to help, but her eyes landed on bright green eyes in a face she hadn't seen before... at least not in person. She was taken aback and immediately on edge as to why this man was walking in on her while she worked before she noticed Riz was there with wide eyes. Dawn glanced at the boy and then the man, and reached towards the small tray of surgical implements for a scaple. It hadn't been cleaned yet, blood still coating the blade. "Riz, who is this?" She asked, her voice very soft as visions of strange dreams bubbled in her mind. She had seen this face dozens of times in her sleep as he turned to look at her with a small smile as if he was keeping some secret, and she had seen his profile silhouetted on the top of a hill far more. Those dreams were plagued with images of serpents and green fire, sprawling fields with hundreds of people looking up at her for guidance, and a disjointed voice whispering to her from a green lit candle about how wrong this world was. It felt like those dreams should have been nightmares from the imagery, but she never woke from them feeling frightened or worried. At worst, she might be confused, but most mornings she awoke feeling decidedly peaceful and well rested. "Constans. He has magic and said he'd help Dollie!" The boy stated, trying to pull the man forward a bit more. Dawn narrowed her eyes into dangerous little slits, the scaple still held in her fingers with a rather assured grip. "And he's offering to help for nothing? Doubtful," She replied, her tone a lot colder and definitely targeted at this 'Constans.' He wasn't dressed like any mage she knew... Well, except for Eleanor... But were the chances of her meeting two self-sacrificing magical healers in her life? It had to be very slim. "I seen it though! He healed his finger!" The boy exclaimed, trying to grab her attention once more. Dawn couldn't help but let out a derisive snort. Perhaps she was being more judgemental then she normally would - but it was unsettling to realize the man in your dreams was a real person and not some messed up quirk of your imagination. Still, if he could help she would be stupid stop him. "Fine, but if you do anything other then help the girl, I will carve you up like a roast chicken,and feed the bits to the pigs." Dawn did actually have a pretty good idea on what parts of the body would be the easiest for her cut through if she ever needed to reduce a body into smaller, more manageable pieces. She didn't suspect she would ever need that information when she had studied it, but she was a curious creature. After giving her warning, she took a step back to let the man get closer to the child, her eyes never leaving him. She didn't even risk blinking.
  50. 1 point

    Gaia is Dead

    A few hours later, and Constans was enjoying one of Blairville’s many storefronts. Bigby and the others had dispersed throughout the city, promising to write to one another as the situation in Blairville developed; it was always prudent to keep any friend you made in these troubled times. Constans was disturbed (and admittedly felt a little bit validated) to see that those troubles had hit Blairville hard, despite its tall walls. “Ah, sorry sir,” the shopkeeper said to Constans as he picked up a handsome wide-brimmed hat and tried it on, “don’t mind the price listed on that, or any of the others like it. I’m in the process of changing them all now. They’ve become quite the commidity since we stopped hearing from the hat-makers out west. Now they’re sixteen silvers instead of six.” Constans put the hat down, and the shopkeeper gave him an understanding frown. Out west. The lands near Coth, he meant. Constans knew a few hatters who had come to Coth with stories of raiders stealing their stock and destroying their homes and workplaces. It was only a matter of time before the safe citizens of Blairville realized that letting the countryside burn would hurt them in the long run too. Though that wasn’t exactly fair. It wasn’t the shopkeepers who had abandoned their rural fellows. They were too busy trying to make a living to keep paying for their spot behind Blairville’s big strong walls. Anyone would have done the same in their position. Perhaps that was what Ioreth had sent him here to realize. His fervor for change could sometime blind him to the humanity of good people caught up in a bad way of life. And so as he explored further in the city of Blairville he kept his eyes out not only for the signs of its troubles, but also for the little human victories eeking themselves out amongst the saccharine splendor and heavy weight of the city’s fading prosperity. He saw friendly conversations between neighbors, children racing through the back allies with faces painted red from laughter, old wives gathered around wells to trade the gossip of the day, younger girls admiring expensive gowns in shops they hoped one day they’d be rich enough to enter. He saw men grooming horses and whispering tenderly in their ears, smelled the smoke of cooking meat and smiled at the stray dogs pining after it. Lovers kissed in the shadow of a temple. From a midwife’s home Constans heard the scream of a woman giving birth. People didn’t have the luxury of putting their lives on hold just because times were hard, Constans realized, and so it fell to him to make sure the world got better soon, so they could all continue their stories without worrying about the world being torn down around them. And yet, to transform the world...he would have to tear it down. How else could he obey god? Was there some hidden path between destruction and creation? He doubted it. The screams of the new mother spoke to the eternal truth that birth and pain were inextricable. To give birth to a new and better world, Constans wondered, what pain would the old world have to endure? And more personally, was he ready to subject it to that pain? He would find out soon. Hopelessly lost in these somber thoughts, the prophet of Coth almost walked straight into another scene of struggling humanity in the city— or at least half humanity. Blinking his green eyes in surprise, Constans watched as a young woman, a half elf, convinced a passerby to ferry a small, broken child to another part of town for healing. Here was a true spark of good in a place Constans was so certain had gone bad. Constans found that he had no voice as he watched the woman deposit the injured girl into the cart. Her tenderness was almost painful to behold, so sweet and sad. Constans studied her face. Care creased her features in a way he found astonishing. He felt a familiar tug in his heart, the same sort of pull he felt whenever Ioreth called him to adventure, or when his pet serpent conveyed to him a portent from god. Destiny was with him. Cautiously, he followed the woman, the children, and the cart to the corner of Wick street and Cat’s Eye. He was determined to see the conclusion of this tragic story, and learn more about its unexpected heroine.
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