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Showing content with the highest reputation on 04/03/2019 in all areas

  1. 5 points

  2. 4 points
    Akako Akari

    Sokui no Rei (Jigoku no Toshi)

    Spirit? No, that wasn't right, was it? Was it a slip of the tongue? She was his wife, his mate. The vixen had loved him with every fiber of her being when she lived, and she loved him even now, obsessed over him - worshiped him. Her family was the reason she was unable to rest in peace. Her life was too short, her existence a blip in time that was unfair. The look in his eyes was cruel considering their history. No love was left in his gaze, as familiar as it was. It was cold, apathetic to her presence. It was heartbreaking. Kimi's image shimmered as the crowd moved and continued to pass through her. When she was fully visible to Koji again, the Empress looked as she had when she lived. The vixen stood across from him with long black hair, crimson eyes, and pouty red lips. Her expression was one of hurt, repressed tears shining in her eyes as the full blow of her mate's rejection hit her. Somehow she thought he would enjoy her morbid games, felt that he would remember their childhood and everything they had done together. It was momentarily forgotten that he was building the empire she inspired him to create. The people she caused panic in were once her people. Remember me. The apparition shimmered out of view again, and the panic that had made the people ill began to fade. When Koji blinked, the Empress stood before him; her gaze was hard, unforgiving as she stared up at him. To treat her like a common criminal after everything they had gone through. Did his wives, his harem, experience the excruciating pain of being locked in the Void for loving each other? Don't you dare forget. Her hand reached to his face, but before she could touch him, her image vanished. Kimi's ghost trailed across the way to the woman that held her child. Kimi appeared before her, not looking at the woman, her crimson eyes on the burden in her arms. The vixen's gaze softened, and she lifted a translucent hand to touch her son. Her fingertips trailed over her son's cheek, and the tears that she couldn't truly shed fell. Finally, she lifted haunting red orbs to look at the woman that held her son. She gave the woman a meaningful look before she was gone. Why aren't you here? Everything returned to how it was, the oppressive atmosphere dissipating just as quickly as it had appeared. As the crowd was herded away, a lone woman remained blindly walking, her hands groping ahead of her as she tried to find her way. She was bumped into many times before she finally fell to her hands and knees. Her hair was a dark brown, nearly black, and she wore a simple white and grey hanfu, her long wavy locks fell around her like a curtain. She sobbed quietly, her hands trembling on the ground as she lifted her chin as if she could see. Her hair fell away from her face to reveal a white and bloodied cloth that was tied around her eyes. Without sight, she gazed across the way to the Emperor unconsciously.
  3. 3 points
    Well, if you need your players traumatized.... I'm available.
  4. 3 points
    In 6 hours i can
  5. 3 points

    Cup Noodles & Tears [Year 1]

    No, said the green-eyed boy at the door. He was a new student, the spark of oh-gods-I'm-in-Bronte wonder still alive in his eyes. Hah. Elias met his gaze without blinking, his smile fading into something that resembled sharp curiosity. "Well then." It must've camouflaged itself. He would have to find another way to explore the room. Elias opened his mouth to reason with the boy (or if need be, threaten him), when a string of curses floated across the hallway. Elias scowled. Another consequence of Filter escaping his room: the Flesh-Beast was in charge of keeping his lodgings clean. When it wasn't around, unwanted things tended to... linger. He turned to face his unwelcome guest, sighing. "I didn't take it, Soloveiv," Elias replied with the tired politeness of one who had been asked the same question for the millionth time. His gaze darted to the bedroom door. "At least shut the bloody door. You're paying me extra if anything else escapes." Elias returned his attention to the freshmen. He raised an eyebrow at the invitation. Well, that saves me some breath. He shrugged. "Sure." After a moment's thought, he extended a hand. "Elias Nevidri. Third year. Ilumad. Nice meeting you." Deftly, Elias plucked a beer from Lucas' grip, sauntered inside the room, and sank into the nearest chair. He raised a finger at Frey. "Behave." In a considerably more friendly demeanor, he turned to Damien. "I don't think I've heard of Iowa. Though you two probably haven't heard of Ilumad either." He crossed his legs, leaning back with the languid assurance of a cat who had decided this particular box was now his kingdom, gaze wandering across the walls. "So," he said dryly, opening the can in his hand. "What brings you two to this Sauriel-blessed, top-tier educational institute?"
  6. 3 points
    Hotspot has returned so writing commences this week. Sorry for any inconvenience
  7. 2 points

    Lords of Shadow [Artifact]

    They should have known not to build so close to the dark forest. Near the rats, no less. Turning the doll over in his hands, the Outsider frowned sadly down at the children’s toy. It was old, with a missing eye and seams as new as they were obvious. Much loved, he thought as he slid his thumb over the buttons on the doll’s dress. He was in a bedroom adjacent to the master, in a house as empty as all the others he had searched in the hours since he and his companions had entered the quiet town. It was a small room, both gay and bright in color and furnishing. A girl’s room, he thought. Rising from bended knee with doll in hand, the Outsider looked at the evidence of a struggle, of a family’s effort in vain to deny the inevitable. A dresser had been pushed in front of the door. He looked at the rents in the floor where the wooden legs had dug into the floorboards, testifying to a bitter contest of strength between those within and those without. Roen had found the dresser on it’s side, the door ajar when he entered. A father’s strength overcome, perhaps. A mother’s desperate holdings against invaders. A sibling’s protectiveness. Roen cradled the doll in the crook of his arm, his gaze moving slowly. There was scuffing on the floorboards, the impression of footwear and bare feet in evidence, all in various sizes and sexes. Most were leading into the room. Three, four intruders, both male and female, Roen hazarded to guess. Two sets tapered off towards a far wall, others still went to the furthest corner, and it was there the Outsider’s attention settled, his thin lips compressing into an even thinner line. The walls at the intersection were battered, nicked and chipped. There were spatters of blood. He went to the corner and stood there, fingering the dents. Bladework, as ferocious as it was reckless, with it’s wild swings befouled by the walls. The dents ranged in height from just below his chest to his knees, a progression of aim that steadily descended as the victims fell. He grimaced. _____ Closing the household door behind him, the Outsider sighed and placed his face in the palm of his hand, taking several moments to compose himself. An entire village, gone. All signs indicated a pitched battle, but there was nothing to indicate just who or what assaulted the village, or where the bodies had gone. That disquieted him most of all. Raising a hand to his ear and padding the stud, the Outsider activated his communicator. A relatively tame element of technology, he had given one to each of his companions to keep in contact with them in case they were separated. He could have relied on other, more esoteric and intimate means of keeping track of the pair, but -- no, he wouldn’t, couldn’t. Better the mundane effort. “Anything?” He asked in his tired, mellifluous voice. They had split up an hour ago, looking for answers. A threadbare doll hung at his hip, cinched to his belt loops beside the sheathed Worldsplitter.
  8. 2 points
    I'll post the mechanics this weekend! Get ready, you'll need to make some simple choices to build your character skills! Any other players interested in GMing a nightmare realm?
  9. 2 points

    NARCollections OOC

    Oh i tbought it wa your turn! Ok ill post after school So in about 6 hours
  10. 2 points


    ardís valkyrja The dwarf isn’t going to make it. White whirlwind of chaos aside, the wind howls like ghouls in their death throes. Ardís clenches her teeth, notes how the wolves’ fangs gleam in the firelight like the glint of her sword: dangerous and deadly and bound on a collision that can no longer be derailed. There is a truth thundering in her bones, even as she watches the world crawl to a snail’s pace, the way the white blur pounces forward with the intent to kill, the way Aron raises his axe a beat to late, trying to block the enemy even as time slips past his fingers. The dwarf isn’t going to make it. Had she not been depowered to this pitiful, overwhelmingly mortal state, she could have called upon the power of the heavens, the ichor of the very gods, saints’ halos and sinners’ horns to smite all in her path. One of the strongest amongst the angels, a warrior goddess of her own right, brought down to the lowly dirt. Ardís summons whatever could have been left of that glorious power surging in her veins and hears nothing but silence. However: she would be damned before someone tries to die on her watch. Without thinking much of it, Ardís surges forward, sword piercing forward in an attempt to stab the wolf mid-pounce, or at the very least divert its attention away from the man it’s attacking.
  11. 2 points

    slithered here from eden

    “A wise choice.” Quinton nods to the knight, and then extends a hand toward the Seeker. The woman fixes her hands into a number of strange poses, drawing light and sound to her palms. With a long slither and great radiance, she summons a small syringe into her grasp, which she then deposits in Quinton’s expecting palm. The liquid inside is a dark red, nearly black, and seems to drink in all the light around it. “Liliana, where is the wound?” The seeker steps closer. “Her right side.” “Would you be so kind as to open the dress a bit, then?” Liliana nods to her employer, but as she moves closer, cuts a sympathetic—or perhaps pitying—gaze toward the knight. At the bedside, she adjusts the unconscious Varda onto her left, lifting her right into the air. The jewelry on her hand begins to glow, and as she runs a single finger along the fabric, it sizzles and splits, exposing a strip of the woman’s lovely pale flesh. The wound looks to be healing normally, but the seeker’s expression is foul. Her true sight allows her to see the real infection, coursing through the noble’s bloodstream like poison. “This is the source,” Liliana says. “I can see it.” Quinton nods, paying Iyalon a final look. “This will all be over soon.” He injects the serum side by side with the wound, and immediately, the seeker’s grim expression lightens. She can see the concoction spreading like wildfire, purging the curse on all of its metaphysical levels. But it doesn’t stop there and continues to burn, scorching away her arcane genetics, severing the incorporeal threads tethering her to the world’s ‘other side’. In a matter of moments, Varda is utterly normal, this reality reinforced by the serum welding itself to her being. They lay Varda back into the bed, covering the slit of her exposed side with cloth. “She will make a full recovery,” Liliana says. Then she excuses herself from the room. Quinton remains sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap as he gauges the knight. Another moth to the flame, hm? It must be painful for him, he wagers, forced to protect the woman he loves but can never possess. Strange how often these narratives are in these second-world countries. “What you did was very brave,” he says, looking at Varda. “There aren’t many men or women that would have the courage to make the decision you just did. It shows your absolute dedication to Lady Varda.” Eventually, he rises, and as he passes the armored clad man, he stops to place a heavy hand on his metal shoulder. “You will both stay here the night. Varda should awaken in a few hours, but she is in no condition to travel. Make sure she rests. I’ll see you both in the morning for breakfast.” Then he's gone, the door closed behind him, leaving Iyalon to ruminate over what he's done.
  12. 2 points

    I mean, really now

    lycoris romanova Lycoris follows the rest of the group through the tent flap—and stares. For just a moment, however, and entirely impassive all throughout, because she will cling to her self-preservation, damn it all. From beside her, the young girl avatar giggles, nudging their leader as she whispers lowly to him, and even the orc, with the hulking figure that he possesses, opts not to pose any questions or statements in the direction of the apparent Falcon, instead giving Eldwine the floor to do something, anything. She blinks once, then twice. Well, surely one of them should ask this man if he is in fact the actual Falcon, at the very least? Lycoris steps one step forward, affixes a pleasant smile upon her lips. "Good day, sir, you—wouldn't happen to be the Falcon, would you? My friends and I have been enjoying what the Hypnogeum has to offer so far, but the tour mentions we strive to meet you, specifically." The man peers down his nose at her for the briefest of moments, glasses near opaque, before he responds to her query with what is perhaps one of the smoothest voices she has ever heard in her life, dark satine and spilled wine, quite at odds with his formidable appearance. "Hmm? Hmm! Yes yes sure sure, I am he that is the Falcon. I don't know what tour you're talking about though. It feels like you maybe are being sly with your words, hmm? I'm not very good at parsing cumbersome verbal cues. What do you want?" Lycoris’ smile grows wider, fabricated delight curving along the edge of her cupid’s bow. "Just a little mingling." She shifts her stance to angle towards Eldwine, then, passing over the metaphorical microphone into his grasp.
  13. 2 points

    Singlance House Party

    The brothers paused to admire the trucks. "You think mom would-" "-let us ride one?" The first thought for a moment. "She wouldn't care, about us riding-" "-a motorized vehicle. But we have an image to uphold among the Ursa Madeans..." "... an image of sorts," the first repeated with a dry smile. They headed to the front door. "How do we introduce ourselves?" the first asked. "Maybe super-casual, like, hey, we're the Empress' sons. Oh, you didn't know we existed? That's 'cause we didn't until up until this year!" "Maybe we don't mention that last part," the second said, shooting his brother a look. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit, adopting a gentlemanly demeanor. "I'm Lenore Paralios, and this is my brother, Pallas. Pleasure to meet you. Just like that." "Hmm," Pallas said. "But shouldn't we be... more casual?" Lenore sighed. Pallas rolled his eyes. Both reached out to knock, rapping twice on the door.
  14. 2 points
    Better Than Gore

    Church On The Hill

    "Lovely." A heavy sigh complimented his sarcastic tone. One didn't have to necessarily have a memory to understand that a first impression was important, and here he was... ripe. That word didn't quite do his current aroma justice, the sheer fact that Ioreth and Mythandriel were in close proximity was surprising, at least they fortunate enough not to be downwind. He carried himself differently now that he was in the presence of others. Which was difficult, as there were so many new things he wished to interact with, especially the horse. It could have probably held a better conversation than the cow. Ioreth was kind enough to oblige his request, deviating from their path wouldn't have been the nicest thing to do, so he resisted the urge. But damn was it hard. Then there were little creatures surrounding Ioreth; of course, he knew they were children, but he could hardly recall ever seeing one previously. “She’s obsessed with the one about the talking horse.” He knew it. Cows suck, horses are where the good conversations are at. "He's smelly," That was a fact, but that didn't keep him from sticking his tongue out at the little girl in response. Children were brave, that's for sure. Or at least this particular one was. All this talk of horses intrigued him, it certainly made him regret not approaching the one they saw earlier. “Many blessings. God smiles upon you and all that.” "Thank you," And with that, he b-lined straight for the bathing quarters, clothes in hand, and he made sure not to get them anywhere near his current attire. It took some time but after a while, he emerged a new man. The clothing they provided him with must've been tailored to fit a human's frame, it fit, but it quite tight. The shirt barely confined the sheer mass that was the Orc, his gray skin exposed and rippled with muscle that was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. We won't even go into detail about the pants... they didn't leave anything to the imagination and we'll leave it at that. His raven black hair was loosely tied up into a topknot. "Now what?" He smiled. @Witches Brew @KittyvonCupcake
  15. 2 points
    I'd also like to type, as a former Gaia Online roleplayer, is that these tournaments foster power playing and power players, which is one thing I wanted to leave behind (as well as the stagnant RP community centered around an endless amount of tavern threads).
  16. 2 points
    Minuet of the Nightingale

    What tangled webs

    Ampelos certainly knew his business, she almost wasn't sure he even needed her presence... not that she was about to offer up that little bit of insight though - it would be like shooting herself in her foot. She wanted away from home and this opportunity had presented itself in her perfect manner to give her some freedoms and slap her name on achievement while she was at it. She didn't have many of those, but she was eager to start proving herself and earning a proper place at the adult table. Even if she wasn't entirely sure what was so special about this particular arrangement; from what she could tell, it was a good but the standard type of deal you could hope to make. So either she understood what was taking place far to well and this whole endeavor was really just that jarringly simple, or she had failed to grasp the larger plan... Given what she knew about the blonde haired man holding this little gathering, she had a hard time believing it was the former. Victra had never been the type who learned by having others speak at her - she was much more hands on and 'in the moment' type of learner so it was pretty easy to assume she simply had missed the genius of the plan. But that was fine, she was here to deal with people, not the logistics of trade agreements. If Ampelos needed her to brush shoulders and make friends somewhere along the line, she knew she could do that. The young woman swirled her glass, watching the ice chase each other in circles while pretending to think about the information she had just been given. There actually was something, a barely recollected mention of the company tickling at the back of her mind; a change in ownership, was it? That seemed right and yet not entirely at the same time. Hopefully the information Ampelos had for them would clear that up. "I'm good to leave within the hour in all honestly, I won't have much to bring," she slanted her gaze towards Icarus next; "And If you need help getting things together, just ask."
  17. 2 points
    Come on gents!
  18. 2 points
    Witches Brew

    Bubblegum Space Princess

    Amaranth MacGuffin Name: Amaranth MacGuffin Age: 21 years old Height: 5'5" Weight: 145lbs Hair colour: Bubblegum pink, with cotton candy blue tips Eyes: Bright blue Occupation: Smuggler Birthplace: Unknown Relationship Status: Married to a lovely Cat lady named Kitty Skills: - Sharp Aim: She can hit almost any target without trying very hard - Exceptional Pilot: Despite being so young, she is an excellent pilot, she knows how to maneuver around any space rock. Leadership Material: Despite being a party of two, she knows when she has to take the lead in any situation. Personality: She's an explosive personality. She's usually calm and levelheaded, but when it comes to certain things she's all emotion. She loves her wife dearly, and will destroy all who try to touch her. She also very much hates dumb ass pilots who can't figure out how to work their space crafts. Despite her short temper, she always makes sure she gives her wife all the love she deserves. (This is short and sweet and it kinda sucks but, this all came from a dream Kitty had.)
  19. 2 points

    Predator's Keep OOC

    When there is no leader or a not involved leader, the area tends to go the way of Tazarek or San Yara or Ursa Madeum (pre-Taen). It can look pretty but it will pretty much just sit there. If a place has no activity it isn't appealing and if it has activity but no change management that activity doesn't go anywhere or do anything tangible so people lose interest and we get back to the first When there is an involved leader, we tend to get Ursa Madeum (post-Taen) and Yh'mi, which changed hands at least twice (from creator to second leader to existing third leader, jaistlyn) and has flourished in activity and complexity since I want PK to sustain and succeed, that is I'd prefer option two to option one above, but I don't have a personal investment in PK and so have no intention of changing the lore or the direction of its plot. I just need to find someone to manage the area, if that person even exists, that makes sense either from IC perspective (because their character belongs to a council) or from an OOC perspective (because the IC justified people either don't have interest, time, or don't make sense in leadership positions) So that's where I'm at right now, just for clarity's sake @Twitterpated Is your character one of the people listed here by any chance?: https://www.valucre.com/topic/30546-predators-keep-informationquests/?do=findComment&comment=533276 If you're going to manage the quests I would suggest posting an updated quest thread that you, or someone else, can freely edit since right now that information is posted under Red's account It's great that you've got this interest and I definitely prefer keeping the property in the hands of someone already involved but given that you've got a couple of soups cooking I worry that it'll simply lead to burn out, bringing your quality down across your other projects for having yet another one to manage. So let's call it temporary triage? It might be a good idea to run it by council both IC and OOC, so that management and plot direction of PK is shared (maybe bewteen Twitterpated, Fierach and Akako?) so that you have that built in redundancy of when one person gets too busy there are two others, but would still need one person in charge of basic logistics - aka the actual updating of "this quest is free" or "taken" or "completed and here are the results"
  20. 2 points

    Predator's Keep OOC

    I've been around roughly since the beginning of PK. I have ironically recently made plans to try and bring activity back to the board as I'd hate to see any of it go to waste. Currently my plans were to complete the list of current available quests one by one while transitioning the canon into a workable plot to explain her absence IC, in a way that allows her an easy way back in if/when she returns. Otherwise the region keeps moving. Make new quests, I have a great plot in mind for some good old conflict around PK, though I have to see if my buddy is willing to participate as the antagonist in this case. If it makes the move from board to tag, that's fine, I understand. But I don't wish to see this go into the wrong hands of ownership and drastically change from what it's originally, currently meant to be. I'll throw my name in the hat. My pace is slow because of how many different things I'm doing at once, but I've been making good progress course correcting and setting limits to be able to better focus on projects I'm running. That being said, I'd love and be open to collaborating with others that are currently or have been involved in the Keep's history, and just as willing to concede to their technical ownership. Another returned face to us whom has been heavily involved in the past is @Akako Akari. Currently I have an active thread running plot relevant to this all, actually, it's Akako's thread but w/e. @Enk Razorwood idk how much help I'd be, but my two characters involved pertain of one Scarlet Council Member, and his son whom is the Prince sans his illegitimacy. The latter is still likely too young to call any real shots, though if plot spins right, the council member will be in PK, indefinitely.
  21. 1 point
    Ok, so got delayed for a minute, but the contest entry thread is now up. Announcement when you get a moment? Thanks, you're the best!
  22. 1 point

    Family Friendly

    " 'ppreciate't." He verbally expressed his gratitude. As directed he hit the secretary's desk on his way out and picked up the information. Before he ventured out to see this Issac character, he had some other things to check into. There were a few spots around Hyperion he had yet to experience. Before stepping out, he would be wise to take a peak at these few things, especially the Tiandi Wushu dojo. He had no intent of joining in on their lessons, he just wanted to experience the diverse cast of students he hoped it would hold. Perhaps he'd even fight one or two of them directly. Otherwise he'd spend some time reading up on places of interest, and marking his ma accordingly to note where he was most interested in traveling. Other than Ursa Madeum, he was bound to checkout Last Chance, as well as Palgard and Martial Town respectively. Perhaps he'd even go visit James for old times sake.
  23. 1 point

    Persistent Alternative settings

    An urban fantasy Earth mega-setting with a metaplot that spans across multiple time periods from BCE to modern. 🤨
  24. 1 point

    Tavern of Legend OOC

    It is followed but I read it when I was doing stuff with my family so I figured I'd reply at a later time. Normally I reply within the day I see it but family was of more importance.
  25. 1 point
    Por presumir a mis amigos les conté que en el amor ninguna pena me aniquila Que pa´ contarle de tus besos me olvide Y me bastaron unos tragos de tequila Les platique que me encontré con otro amor y que en sus brazos fui dejando de quererte que te aborrezco desde el dia de tu traición que hay momentos que he deseado hasta tu muerte. Acá entre nos quiero que sepas la verdad no te dejado de adorar allá en mi triste soledad me Andado ganas de gritar salir corriendo y preguntar ue es lo que ha sido de tu vida. Acá entre nos siempre te voy a recordar hoy que a mi lado ya no estas No queda mas que confesar que ya no puedo soportar que estoy odiando sin odiar Por que respiro por la herida
  26. 1 point

    Set in Stone

    Beautiful. Perhaps no one had ever looked upon this fearful child-woman and thought that before, but Constans' expressive eyes drank in her dangerous figure with wonderment. His lips parted into an unconscious smile and he bounced from her full lips and teeth, to her serpent hair, to her pleasing figure, to her sinister eyes and realized that despite her appearance and all the evil stories it elicited in his memory, he was still a flesh and blood man and not turned to stone. Perhaps Medusa were not all as vile as the bestiaries foretold. "You don't have to leave." he said. His voice was so soft and tender that it was barely loud enough for her to hear. That she feared him was no surprise. What common man could look at such a woman and be generous? But he was the Prophet of the serpent of fire, and anyone who feared as much as this poor creature feared was certainly one of God's children. He took her hand with all the care in the world and placed the apple in her palm. "You don't have to go anywhere." he said, and stood up. He stepped back from her and watched her watching him, and winked. He extended his arms out to his sides and pinched the tips of his pointer fingers and thumbs together, making an "O" between them on each hand. He began to weave them in their air around each other making a huge circle in the air until, all of a sudden, something miraculous began to appear. From the "O" in each hand, the serpentine body of a vividly green snake began to trail out. From one hand sprouted the cobra head, from the other the pointed tip of a tail. Constans spun his hands for a long time, for the snake was massive and thick. By the end of his conjuring, a serpent over ten feet long had appeared and crawled over his shoulders, wrapping itself around his neck like some elaborate and immense scarf. The snake beheld Xildara and flicked its tongue in her direction. "I am a friend to serpents of all sorts. As are you, I think." Constans said by way of a thesis to his summoning trick. He extended his hand toward her and the green snake wound its way down to Xiladra, poking its head curiously at her hair-serpents, flicking its tongue as it tried to get the measure of them. "Will you stand? Will you eat? Do you have a thirst? I can make us tea and we can know one another, if you wish it." @Inked_Fox
  27. 1 point

    In Gaia We Trust

    From where she was, she could watch Illanya finish her work. As a team they performed quite well, for a moment she vaguely wondered if the the lord had that in mind when he brought her there - likely not - but she wouldn’t underestimate the cunning old man, not for a second. She flinched and found herself gritting her teeth with Illanya’s exhaustion and effort, though she was not the one fighting the curse. The locket dropped to the floor and as the little girl awoke , if the girl spoke, Riha didn’t hear her. The locket clicked and whined and strained for several long moments, its connection to the girl clear as it continued to make the noise. If it was audible to anyone else she didn’t know. But deft hands scooped it up and placed it around the little girls neck, eye’s lighting up as they recognized a familiar face in a scary time. “Do not part with this.” She said firmly, “it and you are connected now. But it cannot hurt you anymore.” She turned her attention to Illanya and with a brow furrowed in concern she peered at her. She wouldn’t ask her in front of patients if she was alright, but she would certainly see to it that she could rest and check in with her later. Riha’s Keen eyes didn’t miss the blackness that tried to creep up the woman’s arm, the fight that occurred below conscious eyes. Riha’s attention turned to Illanya “She should be fine with some rest and some care - I hope..... I apologize but I am really exhausted, stepping across the veil like that does not go without its consequences.” She continued in a lower voice, “You do not look well yourself, I have some herbs and tea in the other tent should you want or need them.” Unsure how the woman would interpret her kindness she slipped out, not wanting to be around or garner any more attention than she’d already had. Flopping down into a chair she sighed and pulled out her little flask of cold tea. It was a treat to be sure, but it was needed, it was always needed after a jaunt like that into the other realm.
  28. 1 point

    Entwined Flames

    ’Charming’, didn’t the ladies call him that? Dawen resisted the urge to vault over to the witness stand and choke Gavin. First words out of his mouth were to insult the whole court and its gathered audience of being biased. He had basically just reduced her chance of speaking on his behalf to zero. The Speaker’s typically haughty reply did not make her any happier. The elves never looked beyond themselves to the accomplishments of other races - the humans with their technical marvels and the dwarves with their sturdy strongholds. It would be their downfall, eventually. ”Before I answer, I shall invoke the Oath of Impartiality. Or shall we say in your tongue: Gwest-o Gelthoniel." What? Dawen was as surprised as anyone else that Gavin would know the ancient Oath. She knew the incantation; all of the elves did, but no one had ever dared to invoke it before - for it was a declaration that the speaker of the Oath did not trust in their fellow elves to give fair trial, and that was an accusation not lightly taken. Spoken by a human, it was a shock, but the sides of Dawen’s mouth pulled upwards in a slight smile. Gavin’s unpredictability was both his boon and bane. The wayfarer reiterated their story, and Dawen looked into the audience to gauge their response. If he managed to pull this off, this was the perfect platform for her to appeal to the Lefellans about the incoming threat. Perhaps that would convince them to take action. But instead of being appeased, they seemed to be growing more agitated and restless, shifting in their seats. Someone jumped to their feet shouting something, and chaos broke out. The guard to her left hissed at Gavin and drew his sword. Before he could complete that motion however, Dawen swung her fist hard into his nose, knocking him backwards. The other guard lurched forward to grab her. She side-stepped, narrowly avoiding him. Heart pounding, she wrapped her hand around his arm, crouched down and used his momentum to send him sailing into the wall. The cambion’s voice reached her ears. So this was his doing. She fumed at his method, but there was nothing more that could be done about it right now except to get out of here. The half-elf spared no moment in leaping over the barrier of the stand, rushing over to where the crowd was converging on Gavin. Luckily, the general populace of Lefell weren’t highly skilled combatants, and the sheer amount of people moving slowed the actual guards down. Hands tried to grab at her, and she shoved and kicked. She tried not to hurt them too much, but it was a struggle to suppress the demon instinct in her that thrived on chaos. Finally reaching Gavin, she grabbed him and ran for the exit. They almost made it - but a man wearing a mask materialized out of nowhere between them and the way out. Dawen’s eyes followed the rapid slash of his sword. If she was carrying her own weapon, she could have parried it. Instead, she raised her arm in a futile effort to block the blow. The blade sliced through the flesh and muscle of her forearm, hitting bone. A burst of shock and pain paralyzed Dawen for a precious second, a second that took away her chance to dodge. The man drew his sword back and drove it into her chest, the tip emerging from her back red and dripping. She gasped, a choking, agonized intake of breath. Her body quaked, attempting to make sense of the massive damage. Strength drained rapidly with the blood that poured out of her body, and her legs buckled. She flailed for a support, any kind of support, and only caught the arm of her assailant, still gripping onto the sword with its blade buried in her. She looked into his grey eyes - expressionless, cold orbs that reflected her face of anguish. He pulled away his sword arm away without pity, the exiting blade grinding against bone, eliciting another cry from Dawen. You have to die, Dawen. Elevar’s voice came back to her. “No..” She was terrified of what would happen, scared of losing control. She was terrified to die.
  29. 1 point

    Party at the Singlances'!

    @vielle, did you miss the part where the entire manor is underground? The only part of the structure Varda could see are the entrances, and the "front porch" is just a landing for the stairs down.
  30. 1 point

    Singlance House Party

    It's a strange thing when people knock on an open door, but it's either a sense of manners, or the stop got dislodged and a difference in air pressure slammed it shut again. "I'll check the door, you get Viv and Nad," Aveline says as she ascends the stairs to the hallway that connects the foyer to the interior garage door. When she gets to the foyer, the wooden triangle that held the door openis in the middle and the door is indeed closed. So, of course, she opens it again to see two male angels that have a very strong reseblance to Rozharon Parálios, and Varda Hildebrand. "I had this thing held open, but apparently Bernoulli's Principle wants to be a little bitch today," Aveline says as she puts the door against the spring stop, then kicks the wooden wedge back under it, "Please, come in. We've got snacks and pop downstairs, and the barbecue should be done here shortly." Aveline then steps over to the interior garage door to open it and kick the other wedge under it.
  31. 1 point

    Heaven's Light

    There was only one survivor to be found amongst the wreckage, a cabin boy by the name of Alfred, bleeding from the head, but still alive at the very least. Gerald had a first aid kit inside the cabin of the ship, and used it to patch up his wounds and feed him a health potion. After a time, the boy became conscious, speaking to the both of them in his recount of the events that lead to this vicious attack. "It...it was awful, Sir. They came out of nowhere, they struck so fast, faster than I ever saw pirates attack. We tried to fight them off, but they had armor and weapons even greater than our own." His disbelief mixed with the shock of the attack, his mind hazy on some of the finer details. "I hid below deck, and I saw...I saw so much blood dripping down, we didn't even have time to put down sand...Gaia it was horrible..." "Who was leading these pirates? Did you notice?" Gerald asked, honestly dumbstruck with what he was saying. Pirates weren't known for having such anything more than the basics, relying on trickery to get the upper hand. "It was...it was Copperbeard sir...he lead the charge, he killed the captain, shot him dead sir." The news was more and more troubling, with Gerald feeling it imperative to report this as quickly as possible. "Rest now, boy, you'll need to retell this tale when we get to the Free Marches." Looking to Marina, he shared his concerns. "If Copperbeard somehow has the means and the equipment to attack with such savagery, then we need to alert the other houses. Let's head back, so we can speak with your brother and make sure this one gets proper medical care." Again he went to the controls of the ship, sailing back to the Free Marches while the larger ship broke up and sank to the bottom of the sea behind them. This day was taking a turn, he thought to himself, looking to Marina as worked the steering wheel. So much violence in the world, and still he held onto the hope that love could prevail, that it could save him from being another casualty on the field of battle, so that he could live a full life outside of it. Perhaps there is no escape to violence, but he would be damned if he wasn't going to try with all his heart to make it a possibility.
  32. 1 point

    The Light, Extinguished

    andraste líadáin "A 'special' group indeed. But I suppose Aligoria just has that aura about it that attracts... diversity such as ours." Andraste smirks, thoroughly amused; perhaps this little sojourn to Aligoria has been proven to be the right decision to make after all. After a brief moment of silence which she spends slyly scrutinizing the ragtag collection of peculiar puzzle-piece individuals that she can’t quite see perfectly fitting together, the hooded woman continues with her spiel, challenging the group to guess her identity for the prize of what she boasts to be the finest cup of tea in all Terrenus. Andraste’s interest is piqued, but really, what does she know about Aligoria and its inhabitants? In the corner of her eye, she notices the drow’s hand twitch towards her weaponry—jittery, tense: altogether suspicious, Andraste notes with considerable contempt—which then deviates in turn towards stripping a piece of cloth away from her cloak. Before she can deliberate what the action means, a sudden torrent of water pours over the group, and amidst shocked whispers and confused glances, the khenra rolls her eyes and gathers up the edges of her own cloak to twist them together in an attempt to dry them out. The drow has something to do with this, she is sure of it; no amount of starry, wide-eyed innocence is going to wave this all away. Despite the strange turn of prior events, the young girl begins the round of introductions by offering up her title as the Pretty Paragon, whatever on Gaia’s green earth that means. Pointedly ignoring any further ramblings from Pretty, she taps a paw on the table to signify her turn to introduce herself. “Andraste Líadáin is the name,” she inclines her head, her gaze passing to and fro between each and every one in the group before finally landing on the hooded woman, “and I believe you might be our employer and the dream provider, though I cannot quite say for certain who you are. I’m not exactly well-versed in the community this darkened city boasts. Perhaps a renowned sorceress or a highly placed official?”
  33. 1 point
    As the road stretches ever onward into the dusty horizon, Iomhar’s mind travels its own journey. He cannot help the paths his thoughts wander, not always, and despite the pain and ache it causes deep within his ribcage, the mind is an utterly fickle thing. He tries his best to distract himself with the sights and the scenery and the steady presence of his companions around him, but to little avail: images of his past still arise behind his eyelids every time he blinks, and really, if these are what his brain can conjure, the tabaxi finds himself terrified of sleep. Luckily, a pressing diversion presents itself in the form of a commotion further up the road, and Iomhar urges his pack mule to go faster in an attempt to catch up to the stallion raising ahead of them. They come closer to the scene of an apparent crime, Cerik explaining in low tones what he believes is unraveling before them, and a sharp jab of sympathy pierces Iomhar’s gut. "Abandoning their posts, their duties, their oaths, and trying to forcibly take what isn't theirs... For this bunch... No mercy." The tabaxi nods in agreement, the knight’s words fueling his righteous fury for this innocent woman fending off her attackers. As an arrow flies to hit its mark and Cerik’s sword burst into radiant blue flames, Iomhar follows close behind, electricity sparking up on the length of his arm as he draws a paw back over his head, a ball of energy forming in the cup of his palm. “Take this, you rapscallions,” he yells as he throws the orb in the direction of the closest bandit, and it connects with the gleaming armor, electrocuting him and two other men standing close enough for the lightning to spread. “You will cease and desist this horrible endeavor!”
  34. 1 point

    Laws Yet Inked

    “You say that as if any of us are given a choice in what we are,” Rafael replied, somehow managing to keep his bitter disappoint away from the warmth of his tone. It was there, of course, working its way through their bond sure as her pain, anger, and panic, but not so much that it would outweigh the pity or genuine sense of obligation the elder felt toward her. “The only thing that any of us can decide—to any degree—is who we are.” There would always be obstacles vying to help or force shape Gabriela into their idea of her, many of which took eerily similar shapes to the man that now sat across from her. Malice, Tenebre, Roen, Rafael, and even the High Lords themselves—a chorus of suggestions, demands, and repercussions should she not bend to their wills. It was her stubbornness and authenticity that allowed her to resist them, to remain true to her vision of Irene Gabriela DuGrace; and yet, so too was it these two unquestionable traits that consistently, and without fail, led to her glorious downfall. Rafael had learned, not too long ago, where the line fell between his prejudice of his wife’s inadequacies and their factual counterparts. By the blood in her veins was she meant to rule, yet she possessed none of the means to govern. Experience, wisdom, the grip to maintain control of that which she guided, these things were foreign to her. Her history of romance was a slew of numerous abuses, from physical to psychological—of which he too was a guilty party—all in the name of rabid obsession, or ‘love’ when it was convenient to be called such. Looking over her sad history, how could anyone expect anything but this mess? Overwhelming debt and a destabilized institution were to be the Black Queen’s dowry, Rafael realized when he’d poured over the findings days ago. Still he remained. “I wish that you wouldn’t say things like that,” the elder replied, making his way ‘round the desk once more. “And yet, still you do. You see now how life can be so unkind as to forsake us even the smallest things we desire.” He took his place between her and the edge of the desk she faced, his legs crossed into a narrow pike he set to the side of hers. Both his hands, he set on the dark wood at his side, drumming their idle song—click, click, click—as he often did when thinking. Rafael studied her appraisingly, as an artist would their medium when determining its limitations. “You’ve made mistakes,” Rafael said softly. “I have lived a great deal longer than you, Gabriela, and I can assure you that I have made far worse mistakes. It is a natural part of life and you are right to care about it.” No, it wasn’t the mistakes that the elder found troubling, but rather her seemingly insatiable desire to continue making the same mistakes, over and over again. “Believing that these pillars of the community would have a sense of loyalty to their country and fellow Orisians is a noble thing, but blindly believing that is wrong. Because of our people’s history with them, you victimize humans and place them—all of them—on this pedestal of virtue. And so, in the eyes of the Black Queen, they can do no wrong.” In quiet emphasis of his point, he pinched the top paper of the reports between his fingernail and the desk, sliding it closer to him. “These men and women have not only stolen directly from you, but from their impoverished neighbors. While they grow fat with greed, securing their family’s wealth and legacy, children go hungry in the night. This is a grievous crime and it cannot be overlooked.” The rhythm of his fingernails against the desk slowed as he toyed with the scenarios in his head, all of them a just and violent end for these traitorous dogs. It was one the underprivileged Orisians would rally to, with the wounds of the Ceyana Incident still bleeding on their souls. “But, as much as it pains me to say, we cannot execute them. That isn’t the Orisian way.” Rafael nodded to himself, satisfied with deduction, and began to comb his fingers through the density of his beard. “While the Empire may be known for its more draconian sense of justice, we must blend our cultures, my love, not overpower one with the other. Troubling as these revelations are, I cannot in good faith say that this has not presented us with the opportunity of a lifetime.” Reaching out with his dominant hand, Rafael posed a clawed finger beneath her chin, and with the lightest of pressure, stole it from the palm where she rested and tilted it back so that he might look upon her beauty uninhibited. Whether in pain, agony, happiness of pleasure, Gabriela was a vision, and though he craved her at all times, needed her, it satisfied him enough to admire from so close a distance. “It would be my suggestion that these people be jailed for a minimum of ten – no, twenty-five years – and that they are made to reimburse the crown for all funds stolen, but also a quarter of their original fortune, dated by the first acceptance of royal payment. In doing so, the dozen or so projects across the island will finally receive the necessary funds to continue operations, overseen by select members of the Umbral Ministry of Finance, and the crown will recoup some—but not all—of the losses brought on by this treachery.” Confident his queen would find the terms agreeable, Rafael gave in to his sensual ways, and rolled the finger from beneath her chin to properly cup the softness of her cheek in his massive palm. He lowered himself from the desk, crouching between her legs as he thumbed her cheek and, with his other hand, stroked the long curve of her thigh. “If you truly do not wish to rule and crave nothing more than a simple existence, I will give you that. I will forge your signature on that page, impose my laws, and govern all Orisia by myself. Your life will be to stand by my side when I require it, and mother our children. If that’s what you want.” For all his cruelty and heavy-handedness, Rafael was a simple man, enslaved to the simplistic code of his existence. He’d not been raised to possess his cousin, for she was his equal in every way. It was his age that gave him the distinct advantage he leveraged over her now, but as time passed, her strength would come in rapid increments while his slowed to a steady trickle. By her thousandth year, their differences in power would be nearly nonexistent. And as he searched her golden eyes, she would see this truth in his bluer pair; the future he desired more than anything in this world. “I would have your voice in our people’s ears, your touch in their lives, in equal measure to my own.”
  35. 1 point

    Naughty or Nice?

    Dan sped through the city so fast his feet were almost not even touching the ground. Or maybe they weren't, he COULD fly, after all. The closer he got, the stronger that power level seemed to get. It was to the point now that Dan was beginning to get a bit worried. This thing was encroaching on the stronger non-Olympian god level now. Havoc aside, he was not in the habit of challenging gods. He shook such insecurities from himself. This thing was undoubtedly evil, and would be destroyed. And, he wasn't fighting a god tier opponent alone this time. We're looking at YOU, Thotification. Kid was fighting a god and you just taunted and bailed, leaving some to just sit and watch. Gee thanks. What....the fuck....are you talking about? Nothing never mind. Dan heard an explosion, and finally they were in view. The Maiden of Black Pubic Hair was still fending off elves and a cocky looking deer, Schrodinger's Cat was..... oh. That's what was giving off that power. This close, Dan could both tell that this thing was incredibly powerful, and that it still hadn't even tapped into any of its power yet. The thought of him getting any stronger made his stomach drop slightly. Then finally, the grand dancer herself, Darre was.... still dancing. Great. But, she was also getting accosted by those little elven bastards. And an amount of them slightly higher than his own, but all seemed significantly more powerful. Rudolph Hitler over there seemed to be.... oh. Dan did some very quick calculations. The Cat furry girl could probably manage to hold on for just long enough. The Maiden with the funny name seemed to be doing fine. The Commandant of the Third Reindeer Reich was just about to fire. Dan figured there was maybe a 4 in 10 chance he would get there fast enough to kill the venison before he evaporated Darre. So- Dan held out three fingers, and aimed directly at Rudolph. "Finger Guns. Three Fingers." A triple barreled wind blast erupted from his fingers and flew toward the Reindeer Fuhrer. After which, Dan made a clawed hand and thrust it from his right side to his left, which made another wind blast, one strong enough to rend the first layer of the ground, plow through the elf ranks. Finally, he drew his sword, and slashed at the damned dancing reindeer. There was no way he could heal Darre like this. There needed to be a lull. But then..... maybe there was one way to.... The Flying Pussy landed her hit just as she wanted, and it was enough to throw off Ógurligr's attack just enough for it to miss. the mace slammed into the ground, destroying the ground at the impact site, and propelling chunks into the air from the force. Cracks spiderwebbed across the road for a good 7 feet from ground zero. Then on top of that, the original had the audacity to try and fight back, conjuring a flame pillar. It seemed to have an effect; his armor did not appear to be able to dissipate heat and fire. He, on the other hand, could. Spreading his index finger and thumb on his left gauntleted hand, the fire warped and bent around him, and he simply walked right out of it. Curiously, he was dragging his mace with him, and why became clear. He put force into it, and rending the earth beneath him, he brought it upward in a right to left arc, aiming to knock Alice Prime skyward. More light spears. The elves began to wonder if titty lights were all this female human was capable of. Though, the spears this time seemed to be following them. This was pretty smart of the titty human. However, she wasn't the only person who could play dirty. The elves ran to Vixen, and maneuvered themselves to where she was between all of the spears and them. It was a gamble, but if it payed off, it wouldn't end well for the boobies. And pay off it did. Two spears pierced one her hind left leg, the other her front right thigh, but Vixen gracefully dodged 6 of the spears. Which meant 6 spears of light were coming for the Maiden. And all were homing in on her. The spears Vixen dodged didn't just disappear, of course. They went right for the elves. However, one elf valiantly sprinted, eating all six of them himself, and saving his comrades. While they were moved by this, there were still boobs to kill. They would mourn later. They reloaded, and opened fire on the Maiden again, making sure to track her movements, and some even started firing in the directions she could flee, just so she couldn't. Darre's shot hit, but did superfluous damage, only grazing an elf's leg. The grenade however, was a threat. And a bad one. However, three of the weaponless elves saw that their comrades were in danger of it, and threw themselves on top of it, taking the full force of the attack, and protecting the rest. This, obviously, made the rest of the elves quite upset. The mages had their magic ready to go, and had their timing sorted out, and the gunslingers had successfully reloaded. Rudolph Hitler finished charging, and prepared to fire. But right when he was about to, a powerful wind blast crashed into him, causing the shot to go well over Darre's head, and drill a clean hole through an entire building. Rudolph was PISSED. He would see to it that the one responsible for that miss would be sent DIRECTLY to his gas chambers. He turned to see who it was, just in time to witness the elves being scattered, and Dancer being carved in half. It was that barefoot kid who ran off earlier. Rudolph looked around. The wind attack seemed to have hurt the elves, but did not actually incapacitate or kill them. Rudolph began opening fire on Dan, aiming to take him out quickly, and then deal with Darre. The elves, or at least the mages and the gunslingers, continued to focus on Darre. The mages decided to do something else, and conjured shadowy images of the 5 knight elves, and the now 2 weaponless elves, all charging at Darre through the gunfire. Status: Dan: Now helping Darre. Maiden Ravenpubes: Fighting Vixen and 6 gunslinger elves. Alice: Properly fucked. Darre: Now dealing with Rudolph, 5 mage elves, 5 gunslinger elves, 5 knight elves, 2 unarmed elves, 5 shadow knight elves, and 5 unarmed elves. Current active effects: None.
  36. 1 point

    How We Heal

    The ancestral home of the Hildebrands was as magnificent inside as it was outside. Silas made a point to silently map out every twist and turn leading to Jasper's office; just in case he needed to make a quick exit. Prior to his metaphorical death and rebirth in Alethea, he had never done such a thing; but now it was an everyday occurrence. Intellectually he knew that he was as safe as anywhere else in the manor, if not safer. But trauma changes people, and this was just part of who he was now. By the time they had arrived at the office, he had already mapped out several possible escape routes. Silas smiled back, and unslung the pack he carried from his shoulder, "I should be able to fix that for you presently." From his pack, he retrieved a polished hardwood box, which when opened revealed a sleek black hand. With Jasper's permission, he removed the crude replacement hand, and fitted his prosthetic to the Lords arm. "I'm going to connect the nerves now. You'll feel a sharp jolt of pain, but it should be brief. Ready?" The doctor didn't wait for the other man to respond before he pressed a button and sharp metal bit into the flesh of Jasper's stump. While the pain would be akin to a sudden electrical shock, it would fade quickly. Once it was done, Silas regarded his patient. "You should be able to move it as naturally as your own hand. If you require any adjustments, feel free to let me know."
  37. 1 point

    Predator's Keep OOC

    @supernal Second Seat: Xartia Pendragon is my oldest rpc. 😃 Fortunately, I'm less worried about my other projects suffering any more than they already are. Thank you for the opportunity and thank you friends for being in like minded with me. We'll talk more and see what's going on.
  38. 1 point

    Singlance House Party

    Before either Pallas or Lenore swooped low to the new manor, two certain creatures picked up the scent of each one. <"Do you smell it? That smell..."> Nadia sends to Vivian in their radio-frequency language, <"the kind of smelly smell... the smelly smell that smells... ...smelly."> Then her eyes go wide as Pallas and Lenore's feet land on the concrete drive. <"Angels..."> <"What?"> Vivian sends back. <"ANGELS!"> Then Vivian and Nadia bolt down the stairs. "Hey, think either Titus, Roz, or Teresa just got here," Aveline tells Thurgood in the pit. "What makes ya say that?" "Viv and Nad just bolted." "Fuck, and these cuts ain't quite done yet," Thurgood replies as he steps out of the pit room. Pallas and Lenore would see two Ford F-350 pickups parked on the drive, and two ways to enter: either down the very wide ramp and through the garage, or down the much narrower set of stairs and through the front door.
  39. 1 point

    NARCollections OOC

    @Hurttoto it's that time to post again, my friend! 😃
  40. 1 point

    GIF association

  41. 1 point
    Akako Akari

    Predator's Keep OOC

    @supernal I spoke to Red and she's going to chime in soon.
  42. 1 point
    I was just talking to @Spooky Mittens about why HoH failed on Gaia and he very accurately noted that these three-on-three team brawls are such a logistical nightmare that expecting even one 8 person fight to actually write to completion is almost impossible. HoH's biggest problem is always a petering out of participation. And it would be no different here. I agree with Supernal that if such a thing were done here (not that we particularly need it here, since its nothing revolutionary rules-wise, and more just one Gaian clique's past-its-prime social event) it should be really, really scaled back in scope. At that point, just go find a handful of fighters and organize them into a bracket for fun. Which, I think, people do here already occasionally.
  43. 1 point

  44. 1 point

    Darkest Dungeon Cameos

    All Vestals: Maiden Ravenbush Lady Blackbush Madame Silverbush 🤣🤣
  45. 1 point

    Spurs for the Burro

    Craxus stood in front of Yintor rather confused here a ten foot tall beast stood before a man half his height and still rather than pissing his pant all he did was offer a drink. From the looks of this one they probably had a strategy. An opponent that most likely fought using their intellect and deception rather than a more direct approach. There was a considerable probability that the drink was poisoned and he just happened to have built up an immunity, or an equally likely provability he'd use it to spit fire. Sadly neither would work, Craxus using his magic could simply develop an equal tolerance and with his armor on brief flames would do little good. There was a pause followed by a breeze of wind; with a click of a button his sword stopped spinning and the flames went; leaving the humming sound of the engine's dying rev's to drown out amiss the that chorus of conflict. Craxus despite his size was not a mindless oaf; using his body control magic he had forged a body that not only was physically strong but mentally competent as well. If his opponent nay even his prey was willing to act civil he'd do his best. "You're a strange one ill give you that. Most people would give one look at me and run screaming especially when I come charging at them." He took a swig from the wineskin, but with his size he drank the whole thing by accident. He tilted it upside down to check his beliefs. "Oh sorry about that." He clapped his hands and from a spark of light a 2 litter wine bottle whose container appeared to be made of crystals came into existence in his left hand. He handed the little man the bottle. "Here take that as my thanks, but I'm uncertain as to if you'll get to enjoy it. From your tone I can assume that you're still willing to fight. I am Craxus Farenhide, proud member of the Farenhide family. Normally it is customary for one to ask for their opponents name so the name of defeated lives on in the mind of the victor, however that won't be necessary. You will live on as part of me for I plan to hunt and devour you like prey." With that he lunged forwards like a savage beast pouncing on it's prey.
  46. 1 point
    Alright 😄
  47. 1 point
    @Minuet of the Nightingale Welcome to the thread! I looked up your charrie’s profile, and noticed you mentioned to Venus Sprite something about a hiding cloak? Does that mean that she’ll be invisible to everyone, but she can still be sensed in other ways? Such as heard by someone, for example? And for the whole group, since there’s been such slow posting on this thread, me included, I thought maybe we can leave out the posting order. A post when you want kind of thing. In doing this we’ll definitely need to keep each other informed about if we plan to have something big happen that will effect us all. I hope everyone is ok with that. This way we can post when inspiration strikes us.... or when we have time.
  48. 1 point
    I was going to detail some goals but then I'm like well I don't want to announce this stuff OOC until it gets revealed IC and I roleplay with too many characters for anyone to really know much of them so if there's one thing that all of them have to do right now that I can comfortably admit then it's that they all need to pee. Maybe I could pinpoint ones that are doing more public things: Captain Wallace Ambrose is currently in Ursa Madeum terrorizing pirates with his Iron Justice. The privateer captain and his Ironborn crew are working for House Karradeen to bring the pirates to justice. Paragon Khaedal is in the Nu Martyr province of Renovatio. In Lilith Reiter's war on Nu Martyr to obtain her crown, Khaedal has conquered Hungary for her and has now locked onto Landonia. In Martial Town, Inspector Parean Parean (that's two Parean's) is working a case for MTPD involving child murders. The Neon City is about to have its dark alleys lit up.
  49. 1 point
    Deus Ex Aizen

    Liberating The Slaver's Alcove

    Lurks from the shadows, petting her dragon...
  50. 1 point
    Pasion Pasiva

    Laws Yet Inked

    “Did you ever think to actually go out and see these repairs? OR to even send agents you trust, just to ensure they were completed? Or did you just assume that the men and women you placed in charge--your precious humans--were so loyal, so dedicated to their queen and country, that they would see your will done?” In her relatively short life, Gabriela had perfected the art of giving nothing away. By the blood that ran in her veins, and by virtue of her species, she had managed to learn and utilize the stoic disposition that almost never revealed the inclination of her thoughts or feelings. It was easy enough to hide her feelings from most humans, and marginally harder to do so from creatures of age and power. She had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t about hiding one's feelings, but rather recognizing that nearly no one actually cared what anyone was feeling beyond themselves. Her feelings could only ever be weaponized against her if the other party had anything to gain from her reaction, and while that was the case often enough in politics -- at the heart of it, no one cared what she felt. Of course it was all very different with Raphael, and it was simply silly to keep ignoring the fact. He was blood of her blood and flesh of her flesh, her feelings were an echo in his veins whether he wanted to hear and feel it. For that reason, and that reason alone, she did not feel the need to hide her true feelings at this most unfortunate revelation. Hurt flickered across her face, but it was quickly chased away by embarrassment and eventually anger. She settled there, fuming in bitter silence as she considered the weight of his comments and the implications. “No, I never assumed love or dedication for myself… I assumed,” she grew tense, she felt her muscles clench and her anger burn through her, consuming the fuel created by her sudden hate, “...I assumed they had some semblance of loyalty to their own country. I sought nothing to gain by lifting Orisia from the destitute state that I found it in. I simply thought I could do some good here.” Surely there was that, she thought to herself as the fire in her veins began to lessen, and her rage grew dim and pale. As always, the sadness was quick to come. Desperately, she clung to the idea that something good had to have come from her short time as queen of Orisia. She had found the islands in utter chaos, where anarchy ruled supreme. But then she thought of the horrors she had brought -- of Tenebre, of Malice, of the countless masaquars, of her wicked cousin who had chased her across the stars and ended up here, and finally, she thought of Roen. Her heart hurt badly. “You mentioned treason earlier. Stealing from the crown is a grave offense, is it not? All of that money you’ve given these people, they’ve used for their personal gains, Gabriela. There are places on this island that are falling apart at the seams, starving, all because you blindly trusted these people you know nothing about.” What was she supposed to say to that? She sat there, sinking under the weight of his chastising. Her eyes drifted across the room, she looked out the window at the city below. Nearly every window in this particular wing of the castle offered breathing views of capital city, a place she had come to love so very well. Philippe was beyond the castle walls, down below, living a wonderful little life with his father and an army of servants who adored him. He lived in a villa by the lake, he had beautiful gardens where he was taken to play and get sun, and he had magic and mystery to entice and enrapture him. The child was living a wonderful life, and it was because she was not a part of it. In much the same way, she realized with a knot of emotion growing thick in her throat, Orisia would probably do well and better if she simply stepped down. She had tried. She had abdicated her position as queen, she had sought to disappear… “I thought you’d simply neglected Veelos for all that time after the massacre. But it turns out the previous regent began siphoning large amounts of the funds you’d been sending after he realized there was no royal oversight. You just kept sending money.” “I haven’t been available,” she said sharply. “Between being held against my will in various locations across this globe -- I simply have not been allowed to be a presence in my own country.” There was an edge of accusation in her voice, as she wondered if Raphael had already forgotten the time she was made to spend in Umbra as a very unwilling guest of the Emperor. “I can do nothing right by anyone's account! Orisia is in a sad state and it’s my fault, for not being here to properly rule. Fine, I’ll readily admit my shortcomings as a leader. I even sought to step down, and even that was prevented -- the option robbed from me. What do you want? What does anyone want from me?” Flustered, and tired, she dropped her perfect posture and leaned forward with her elbows on either arm rest. She wasn’t showing very much, but she could feel the slight swell of her belly -- the promise of a new life to come, a new canvas for her to destroy with pathetic attempts of nurturing. How she wanted to weep, but the tears would not come. She was too tired, too frustrated, and simply too confused. In one breath, Raphael seemed all but thrilled to tell her what an awful leader she was, and yet he wanted to keep her besides him and elevate her to the role of empress. He seemed more a fool than she. “Say what you will of me, Gabriela, but I am trying to help you. I could have gone behind your back and handled this myself, kept you in the dark as I’ve done in the past. I’m doing my best to change, for you, for our child. Let me.” “I never asked for any of this…” Her eyes settled on his, and two pools molten pools of sun-set eyes clashed against the tropical sapphire hues of a man intently staring at her. He seemed thirsty for her words, for what she would say next, and this made her panic. Gabriela shook her head and dropped her face into an open hand. Slender fingers, cold as ice, combed through a portion of her hair as she closed her eyes as tightly as she could manage. “I didn’t ask to be born a vampyre, to be born a DuGrace -- I didn’t ask to be your child-bride, or the fertile grounds were so many plant their hopes and dreams. I don’t want to rule. I don’t want your help. I want my quiet life and my simple existence. I wish you’d all just leave me alone.”
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